Chapter 197: Crown
They ran.
The chamber collapsed behind them with a deafening roar.
Denzel barely had time to look over his shoulder before a section of the ceiling crashed down where they had been standing.
The older man grabbed his arm.
"Faster."
"I’m trying."
"You have to move."
"I noticed."
Another explosion shook the corridor.
Denzel stumbled as the floor tilted beneath his feet.
The older man caught him before he fell.
"Keep going."
Denzel pushed himself upright.
Something was wrong.
The corridor hadn’t been this long before.
He remembered the path they had taken to reach the chamber.
There had been three turns.
Two staircases.
A sealed gate.
Now there was none of that.
The corridor stretched endlessly ahead.
Denzel glanced back.
The chamber entrance was already gone.
A wall of black stone had sealed it completely.
"Is this supposed to happen?"
The older man didn’t answer.
Denzel looked at him.
"That’s usually a bad sign."
"It’s the trial."
Denzel stopped.
The older man kept walking for another step before realizing he was no longer beside him.
He turned.
"What?"
Denzel pointed toward the corridor.
"You said this was a trial."
"Yes."
"When did it start?"
The older man stared at him.
"The moment you rejected the system."
Denzel’s expression tightened.
"So this is part of it?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
The older man looked around.
"The Crown is testing you."
Denzel frowned.
"I don’t have a Crown."
"You do."
Denzel looked at the silver mark on his palm.
It was still there.
A thin circle surrounded by seven tiny points.
He hadn’t noticed it changing.
Now the points were slowly rotating.
"That’s the Crown?"
"No."
The older man shook his head.
"That’s the invitation."
Denzel stared at him.
"And the actual Crown?"
"You’ll have to earn it."
A sound echoed from somewhere ahead.
Metal scraping against stone.
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"How?"
The older man looked toward the darkness.
"Survive."
Something stepped into the corridor.
Denzel’s body tensed.
It looked human.
Almost.
Its limbs were too long.
Its skin was pale.
Seven silver marks covered its chest.
Its head slowly turned toward Denzel.
Then it smiled.
Denzel recognized the face.
His own.
But younger.
Sixteen.
The age he’d been when everything changed.
Denzel’s expression hardened.
"You’re kidding."
The younger version of himself tilted his head.
"You remember."
Denzel didn’t answer.
The figure took a step closer.
The older man raised his hand.
"Don’t look into its eyes."
Denzel immediately looked away.
"Why?"
"It doesn’t show you what you remember."
Denzel glanced at him.
"Then what does it show?"
"What you regret."
The younger Denzel laughed.
The sound was quiet.
Almost familiar.
"You’re afraid of me."
Denzel’s jaw tightened.
"I’m not."
The figure smiled.
"You always say that."
Denzel felt something tighten in his chest.
The voice was wrong.
Not because it sounded unfamiliar.
Because it sounded exactly like him.
The system appeared.
[Royal Crown Trial.]
[First Trial: Confrontation.]
[Requirement: Face what the Host refuses to acknowledge.]
Denzel stared at the message.
Then it disappeared.
He looked at the older man.
"Does the trial always explain itself this badly?"
"No."
"Great."
The younger figure stepped closer.
"You left me."
Denzel froze.
The words struck harder than they should have.
The older man immediately spoke.
"Don’t listen."
"You abandoned me."
Denzel looked at the figure.
His younger self stood there with blood running down one side of his face.
The laboratory.
The machines.
The screaming.
Denzel remembered pieces.
But not this.
"You were there," the younger version said.
Denzel’s breathing slowed.
"Where?"
"When they opened the seventh gate."
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"I was there."
"No."
The figure shook his head.
"You were already gone."
Denzel stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
The younger version smiled.
"It means you left me behind."
A pulse went through Denzel’s palm.
The silver mark burned.
He clenched his fist.
"You’re not real."
The figure’s smile widened.
"That’s what you told yourself."
The corridor changed.
The walls disappeared.
Denzel stood inside the old laboratory.
He knew it immediately.
The seven circles were beneath his feet.
The machine stood in front of him.
And there he was.
Sixteen years old.
Bound to the chair.
Denzel stared at the scene.
He remembered this.
Or thought he did.
The younger version screamed as the machine activated.
Energy flooded into his body.
Doctors shouted.
Alarms blared.
Someone pulled a lever.
The machine began overheating.
Then the woman appeared.
The same woman from the other memories.
She ran toward the chamber.
"Denzel!"
The younger version looked at her.
"Run!"
She stopped.
The machine exploded.
Denzel flinched.
When he opened his eyes, the laboratory was gone.
He was back in the corridor.
The younger figure stood directly in front of him.
Denzel stared.
"That wasn’t what happened."
The figure said nothing.
"You showed me the memory."
"No."
The figure stepped closer.
"I showed you what you remember."
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"What’s the difference?"
"Everything."
The older man moved beside him.
"Don’t let it manipulate you."
Denzel looked at him.
"How do you know?"
"Because I’ve seen this trial before."
Denzel’s expression changed.
"You’ve gone through it?"
The older man nodded.
"Long ago."
"What did you see?"
The older man looked at the younger figure.
"Myself."
Denzel stared at him.
"And?"
"I killed him."
Silence.
The younger figure smiled.
Denzel looked back at the older man.
"You killed your own younger self?"
"I killed the version of me that wanted to go back."
"Back where?"
The older man didn’t answer.
The corridor trembled.
The younger figure slowly raised his hand.
Seven silver fragments appeared behind him.
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
The same fragments.
The same Crown.
Except his were black.
The older man’s expression changed.
"That’s not supposed to happen."
Denzel looked at him.
"What?"
"The trial is adapting."
The younger version smiled.
"Of course it is."
The seven black fragments rotated around him.
Denzel felt the Royal Authority in his body respond.
His palm burned again.
The silver mark spread across his wrist.
The system appeared.
[Trial Environment Altered.]
[Opponent has gained access to Host memories.]
[Warning.]
[Opponent classification: Unknown.]
Denzel stared at the message.
"Unknown?"
The system had identified creatures, bloodlines, abilities, and even the Royal Origin.
Now it didn’t know what stood in front of him.
That bothered him more than the opponent itself.
The younger version lunged.
Denzel barely moved in time.
A black blade formed where the figure’s hand had been.
It cut through the space where Denzel’s throat had been.
Denzel stepped backward.
The blade struck the wall.
The entire corridor split open.
Denzel’s eyes widened.
’So much for not being real.’
The younger figure attacked again.
Denzel raised his arm.
Royal Authority surged through him.
Silver light collided with the black blade.
The impact threw both of them backward.
Denzel landed on his feet.
The younger version landed several meters away.
Neither moved.
Then the figure smiled.
"That’s better."
Denzel flexed his fingers.
The silver light remained around his arm.
He looked at it.
He had used Royal Authority before.
But this was different.
It didn’t feel like energy anymore.
It felt like something was listening.
Waiting.
He looked at the seven black fragments.
Then at the seven points on his palm.
"You said Royal Authority is permission."
The older man nodded.
"What am I supposed to command?"
"Anything that recognizes your authority."
Denzel looked at the figure.
"Does he?"
The older man’s expression darkened.
"No."
Denzel smiled faintly.
"Then I’ll make him."
He stepped forward.
The younger figure’s expression changed.
Denzel raised his hand.
The silver mark on his palm flared.
"Stop."
The younger figure froze.
For one second, nothing happened.
Then one of the black fragments shattered.
The figure’s expression twisted.
Denzel stared.
He hadn’t forced it.
He had simply commanded.
The younger version roared and attacked.
Denzel raised his hand again.
"Down."
The figure slammed into the floor.
The corridor shook.
Denzel stared at his own hand.
The older man looked at him in disbelief.
"You’ve already awakened it."
Denzel didn’t take his eyes off the figure.
"What?"
"The authority."
Denzel slowly lowered his hand.
The younger figure pushed himself up.
Blood ran from his mouth.
But he was smiling.
"Now you’re finally using it."
Denzel frowned.
"Why are you happy?"
"Because this isn’t my trial."
Denzel’s expression changed.
The figure looked toward the older man.
"It’s his."
The older man’s face went pale.
Denzel turned.
"What does that mean?"
The older man didn’t answer.
The younger figure laughed.
"He brought you here."
Denzel looked at the older man.
"You said I opened the chamber."
"I did."
"You said the system guided me."
"It did."
"But you never told me why you were here."
The older man remained silent.
Denzel’s eyes hardened.
"You weren’t protecting me."
The man’s expression tightened.
"You were waiting."
The corridor went silent.
The older man slowly lowered his hand.
"I needed to know if you were ready."
"For what?"
The older man looked at the seven black fragments.
"For the Crown."
Denzel frowned.
"I thought you said I had to earn it."
"You do."
"Then why does everyone keep acting like I already have it?"
The older man looked directly at him.
"Because you were born wearing it."
Denzel froze.
The younger figure disappeared.
The laboratory vanished.
The corridor returned.
And above Denzel’s head—
Something appeared.
A Crown.
Not silver.
Not black.
It was transparent.
Almost invisible.
Seven empty spaces surrounded it.
Denzel stared upward.
The older man immediately dropped to one knee.
"Denzel."
Denzel looked at him.
"What?"
The man’s head remained lowered.
"Don’t move."
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
The man looked up.
His face had gone completely pale.
"Because the Crown is choosing its shape."
Denzel felt pressure building above his head.
The seven empty spaces began filling.
One.
Two.
Three.
A fourth light appeared.
Then a fifth.
The sixth began forming.
Denzel stared.
"What happens when all seven appear?"
The older man didn’t answer.
Denzel’s expression hardened.
"Tell me."
The man finally looked at him.
"The Crown becomes permanent."
Denzel glanced upward.
"And that’s bad?"
"No."
The older man’s voice was quiet.
"What’s bad is what happens afterward."
The seventh light began forming.
The entire facility trembled.
Far below them, something answered.
Boom.
Denzel’s heart skipped.
Boom.
The silver mark on his palm cracked.
Boom.
A voice entered his mind.
Not the system.
Not the younger version.
Not the Royal Origin.
Something older.
Something that had been waiting beneath everything.
’Found you.’
Denzel’s eyes widened.
The seventh light completed.
The Crown descended.
And the moment it touched his head—
Every Royal Bloodline across the world awakened at once.