In the midst of the chaos between the Templar forces and the shadow entities, the atmosphere suddenly froze. It wasn't caused by ice magic, but by the emergence of a frequency so heavy that the heartbeat of Caine's steam engines slowed. From behind the black mist at the palace gates, a figure stepped out with the grace of royalty, yet with an aura that radiated death.
Harold froze. His hand gripping the hilt of his sword trembled violently. "It can't be... William?"
The Return of the Crown Prince
It was William de Croul, Harold's younger brother and the Crown Prince of Oureum. He was the man who had once exchanged vows of loyalty with Anne before the tragedy in Isfellan occurred. Officially, William was declared dead, crushed under the ruins of a mine during Isfellan's expansion years ago. But the figure standing there was not the man they once knew.
Half of his face remained as handsome as ever, but the other half consisted of a deep, pitch-black void pulsing with violet light—a mark that he had merged with one of the entities of The Lesser Key.
"You look surprised, Brother," William's voice sounded like the smooth grinding of metal. "Did you enjoy playing the role of the dead hero's brother so much that you forgot a de Croul never truly surrenders to death?"
Transformation Toward Immortality
William glanced up toward the balcony where Anne stood. His gaze was filled with a toxic longing. "Anne, look at me. Isfellan tried to kill me with their collapsing stones and steel. But in that underground darkness, I found the truth. Magic and machines are merely mortal tools. Immortality... can only be achieved by surrendering to the higher frequency."
"You sold your soul to them, William," Anne replied, her voice remaining steady despite the turmoil in her heart. "You are no longer our prince. You are nothing but a parasite to the entities you call immortality."
William chuckled softly, and as he did, the three shadow entities around him bowed in respect. "I am the bridge, Anne. The Church wants Rainnes, but I want you. Join me, and we will lead this symphony forever. Forget Harold; he is nothing but a soldier bound to a futile duty."
Dilemma on the Front Lines
Cardinal Malachi and his Templar forces were thrown into confusion. On one hand, they saw their former crown prince returned. On the other, William's aura was far more heretical than Anne's machines.
"Prince William?" Malachi asked hesitantly. "Have you returned to purge this witch?"
William turned, his pitch-black eyes staring at the Cardinal. "I have returned to purge the world of all of you who are too weak to hear the true voice."
With a single wave of his hand, William released a wave of dark energy that sent the front lines of both the Templars and The Catalyst flying simultaneously. He was no longer just a demon; he was a commander with a birthright to the throne and unimaginable demonological power.
Harold stepped forward, the steam from his steel armor roaring hot. "William, I was the one who placed you under those ruins to protect you. And today, I will place you back underground to stop this madness."