Chapter 193: Beat
The heartbeat echoed again.
Once.
Then silence.
Denzel remained where he was.
His eyes were still fixed on his mother.
"Your grandfather?"
She didn’t answer immediately.
That was enough.
Denzel glanced toward his father.
He was still staring at the ground.
’Right.’
That was definitely not the reaction of two people who had just been asked about a harmless relative.
Denzel looked back at his mother.
"The first King?"
She nodded slowly.
"The first King of what?"
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Denzel waited.
His patience lasted approximately three seconds.
"Mom."
She finally looked at him.
"The Crown."
Denzel frowned.
"That doesn’t answer the question."
"It does."
"No, it really doesn’t."
His father finally raised his head.
"Denzel."
The tone stopped him.
Not because it was commanding.
Because his father sounded afraid.
Denzel had heard anger from him.
Disappointment.
Frustration.
Even pride.
But fear was different.
Especially when it came from someone who had spent years pretending he had none.
"What aren’t you telling me?"
His father looked toward the seven fragments floating above the chamber.
"The first King wasn’t simply the first person to wear the Crown."
Denzel followed his gaze.
Six black fragments rotated slowly around the lone silver one.
"The Crown was made for him."
"By my grandfather?"
"No."
His father shook his head.
"He made it."
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"That sounds like the same thing."
"It isn’t."
His mother finally spoke.
"Your grandfather didn’t discover the Crown, Denzel."
She swallowed.
"He created it."
The chamber seemed colder.
Denzel looked at the fragments again.
"So the thing I’ve been fighting..."
His mother nodded.
"A part of him."
The other Denzel laughed.
Denzel turned.
He was still standing several meters away.
The blood had stopped flowing from his mouth.
"You finally understand."
Denzel stared at him.
"You knew."
"Of course."
"You knew who created it."
"I knew who created everything."
Denzel’s eyes hardened.
"Then why didn’t you tell me?"
The older Denzel smiled.
"Would you have believed me?"
"No."
"Exactly."
Denzel hated that answer.
Mostly because it was probably true.
The system appeared between them.
[Royal Trial Environment Stabilizing.]
[Phase One has concluded.]
[Temporary Authority Restrictions Removed.]
[Current Royal Authority: 81%.]
Denzel looked at the number.
Then at the older version of himself.
"Your Authority."
The other Denzel’s expression changed slightly.
Denzel noticed.
"It’s lower now."
"Don’t concern yourself with numbers."
"You’re at eighteen percent."
Silence.
Denzel’s eyebrows lifted.
"That’s a pretty significant drop."
The older Denzel’s jaw tightened.
"Temporary."
"Sure."
Denzel glanced at the Crown fragments.
"So what happens when it reaches zero?"
The older Denzel didn’t answer.
Denzel smiled faintly.
"That means I was right."
"You’ve always been too quick to assume."
"And you’ve always been too slow to answer."
The other Denzel stared at him.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then the chamber trembled.
A deep vibration passed beneath their feet.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Denzel immediately looked toward the floor.
Another heartbeat.
This one was louder.
BOOM.
The stone beneath them shifted.
His mother stepped backward.
"It’s waking up."
Denzel looked at her.
"What is?"
She didn’t answer.
His father did.
"The facility."
Denzel stared at him.
"The entire facility?"
"The part beneath it."
"That doesn’t make me feel better."
"It shouldn’t."
A crack appeared across the center of the chamber.
It spread slowly.
Then rapidly.
Denzel stepped back.
The crack widened until a faint silver light became visible beneath the stone.
The seven Crown fragments suddenly stopped moving.
Every piece turned toward the floor.
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"That’s new."
The silver fragment moved first.
It shot downward.
The six black fragments followed.
His mother shouted.
"Denzel!"
He instinctively raised his dagger.
The fragments passed him.
They didn’t attack.
Instead, they descended into the crack.
The chamber shook violently.
Something enormous moved beneath them.
Denzel felt it through the soles of his feet.
Not footsteps.
Something heavier.
Something that felt less like a person moving and more like an entire structure shifting in its sleep.
The other Denzel stared at the ground.
For the first time since the trial began, he looked genuinely concerned.
Denzel noticed.
"That’s not supposed to happen either?"
"No."
"Great."
The crack suddenly exploded.
Denzel jumped backward.
A column of silver light erupted from beneath the floor.
It reached the ceiling.
The chamber disappeared inside it.
Denzel covered his eyes.
For several seconds, there was nothing but pressure.
Then—
Silence.
He slowly lowered his arm.
The chamber had changed.
The cracks were gone.
The broken pillars had restored themselves.
The dust had disappeared.
Even the air felt different.
Cleaner.
Colder.
At the center of the chamber stood a staircase.
It hadn’t been there before.
Denzel stared at it.
The staircase descended into darkness.
At the top stood a single stone arch.
Seven symbols had been carved into it.
His father walked toward the stairs.
Denzel caught his arm.
"Where are you going?"
His father stopped.
"I need to see what’s down there."
"No."
His father looked at him.
Denzel released his arm.
"You’re not going alone."
"I wasn’t asking you to come."
"Good."
His father frowned.
Denzel stepped past him.
"I wasn’t asking permission either."
His mother sighed quietly.
"You really are becoming like him."
Denzel stopped.
He looked over his shoulder.
"Who?"
She hesitated.
Then she smiled sadly.
"Your grandfather."
Denzel stared at her for a moment.
"That wasn’t supposed to be reassuring."
"It wasn’t."
He turned back toward the stairs.
The other Denzel hadn’t moved.
Denzel looked at him.
"You coming?"
The older version smiled.
"I don’t belong down there."
"That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said."
"But you do."
Denzel frowned.
"What does that mean?"
The other Denzel looked toward the staircase.
"It means the trial wasn’t testing whether you could defeat me."
Denzel’s expression tightened.
"What was it testing?"
"Whether you could inherit what I couldn’t."
The system appeared.
[Warning.]
[Trial interference detected.]
[Royal Authority exceeds designated Phase One threshold.]
[Additional information unavailable.]
Denzel stared at the message.
’Of course.’
Nothing was ever simple.
He turned toward the stairs.
His mother and father followed.
The moment Denzel placed his foot on the first step, the seven symbols above the arch lit up.
A voice echoed from somewhere below.
"Blood recognizes blood."
Denzel stopped.
His father froze.
His mother closed her eyes.
Denzel slowly turned.
"You’ve heard that before."
His father didn’t deny it.
"Yes."
"When?"
"Years ago."
"From him?"
His father looked toward the darkness.
"Yes."
Denzel stared at him.
"And you never thought to mention that?"
"We thought you were better off not knowing."
Denzel’s expression hardened.
"That excuse is getting old."
His father accepted the criticism without argument.
They continued downward.
The staircase seemed impossible.
They had already descended several dozen steps, yet the chamber above remained visible.
Then they passed beneath the arch.
The moment they did, the world changed.
The chamber vanished.
Denzel found himself standing in a massive underground hall.
He stopped.
His mother nearly walked into him.
"What is it?"
Denzel didn’t answer.
He was looking at the walls.
Thousands of names had been carved into them.
Some were crossed out.
Others were marked with symbols.
At the very center was a massive mural.
A man stood before seven circles.
A Crown floated above his head.
The figure was young.
Too young.
Denzel stared.
"That’s him?"
His mother nodded.
"Your grandfather."
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"He looks..."
"Younger?"
"Yeah."
His father walked closer.
"He was thirty-two when he created the Crown."
Denzel looked at him.
"Thirty-two?"
His father nodded.
"And how old was he when he became King?"
"Twenty-six."
Denzel stared at the mural.
"That’s young."
"He wasn’t normal."
Denzel almost laughed.
"That seems to be a family tradition."
His mother smiled faintly.
But it disappeared quickly.
Denzel walked toward the mural.
Something about it bothered him.
The seven circles.
The Crown.
The figure standing beneath it.
And beneath everything—
a sentence.
Denzel wiped away a layer of dust.
The writing became visible.
He read it silently.
Then again.
His expression changed.
"What?"
His father stepped closer.
Denzel moved aside.
The inscription read:
The Crown does not grant authority.
It reveals the authority already possessed.
His mother whispered the words.
Denzel looked toward the seven circles carved beneath the Crown.
There were seven.
Just like the marks beneath his own collarbone.
His breathing slowed.
"So the Crown didn’t give him power."
"No."
"It awakened it."
His father nodded.
Denzel looked down at himself.
Then toward the darkness beyond the hall.
"What was he trying to awaken?"
His mother didn’t answer.
Denzel turned.
"Mom."
She looked at him.
"What was he trying to awaken?"
Her eyes filled with something Denzel couldn’t identify.
Fear.
Maybe regret.
"He believed humanity had reached its limit."
Denzel waited.
"He believed the human body couldn’t evolve any further on its own."
His father continued.
"So he created the Crown to force that evolution."
Denzel stared at him.
"And it worked?"
His father was silent.
That was answer enough.
The system appeared.
[Royal Lineage Detected.]
[Bloodline compatibility: Confirmed.]
[Royal Authority: 82%.]
Denzel’s eyes widened.
"Eighty-two?"
His father looked at the notification.
"You’re still gaining."
"Apparently."
The number changed.
[Royal Authority: 83%.]
Then 84%.
Denzel frowned.
He wasn’t doing anything.
He hadn’t touched the Crown.
He hadn’t fought anyone.
He hadn’t even moved.
The number continued rising.
85%.
86%.
His mother stepped backward.
"No."
Denzel looked at her.
"What?"
She stared at the system.
"That’s not supposed to happen."
"What isn’t?"
"The Crown is responding to the bloodline."
Denzel looked toward the mural.
The Crown depicted above his grandfather suddenly began glowing.
A faint silver line spread across the stone.
Then another.
Then another.
The mural changed.
Denzel stepped closer.
The image of his grandfather faded.
A second figure appeared behind him.
Then a third.
Then dozens.
Kings.
All wearing different Crowns.
Denzel stared.
"How many were there?"
His father shook his head.
"We don’t know."
The final image appeared.
A child.
Standing alone.
Seven circles beneath his collarbone.
Denzel’s expression froze.
The child looked exactly like him.
Not similar.
Exactly.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same mark.
Denzel stepped backward.
"That isn’t possible."
His mother covered her mouth.
His father stared at the mural.
"We thought so too."
Denzel turned toward them.
"What is that?"
Neither answered.
"What is that?"
His voice was sharper this time.
His father finally spoke.
"That’s you."
Denzel stared at him.
"I know what I look like."
"No."
His father’s face had gone pale.
"We saw that image twenty years ago."
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"I wasn’t even born."
"Exactly."
Silence.
Denzel looked back at the mural.
The child slowly raised his head.
The stone image shifted.
His eyes turned silver.
Then the entire mural spoke.
Not the voice from before.
A different one.
Older.
Calmer.
Almost amused.
"Blood has returned."
Denzel’s fingers tightened around his dagger.
His father stepped in front of his mother.
The voice continued.
"The Crown has chosen again."
Denzel stared at the mural.
"Grandfather?"
The stone figure smiled.
"No."
The seven circles beneath the child’s collarbone began glowing.
"I am the one who came before him."
Denzel’s eyes widened.
The system appeared.
[Unknown Royal Presence Identified.]
[Identity: First King.]
[Authority Level: Unmeasurable.]
[Warning.]
[Host has entered restricted Royal Territory.]
Denzel slowly exhaled.
’You have got to be kidding me.’
The voice laughed softly.
Then the floor beneath them opened.
Denzel dropped.
His mother screamed his name.
His father reached for him.
Denzel grabbed the edge for half a second.
Then something seized his wrist from below.
Cold fingers.
Strong fingers.
Denzel looked down.
A pale hand was holding him.
Then another hand appeared.
And another.
Hundreds of hands reached out from the darkness.
The first King spoke one final time.
"Come home, Denzel."
The grip tightened.
And Denzel was pulled into the dark.