Thousands of people remained on their knees. Not a single person dared raise their head.

The entire Last City, bustling with life mere moments ago, had transformed into a silent ocean of prostrate bodies. Surya stood rigid, his heart hammering against his ribs at an escalating tempo.

"What is happening here?"

No answer came.

The elderly woman who had been first to drop to her knees slowly lifted her face. Tears still traced paths down her cheeks, yet a faint, fragile smile curved across her lips.

"For thousands of years, we have waited."

"Waited for whom?" Surya asked.

"The King."

Surya shook his head sharply. "If you mean the Ash King, I am no king."

"I am just an ordinary person."

The old woman offered a sorrowful smile. "That is what every heir has always said."

Surya narrowed his eyes. "Every heir?"

"Yes."

Her tone softened into a whisper. "Yet... not a single one ever managed to reach this place."

The declaration left Surya instantly speechless.

"So..."

"I'm not the first?"

The old woman nodded slowly. "There have been many."

"Yet every single one failed."

"They failed to conquer the Shadow World."

The Relic, silent until now, finally chimed in with a warning whisper. "Do not believe everything they say."

Surya replied in his thoughts. "Why?"

"Because even they themselves have forgotten what reality is."

The reminder made Surya lock down his guard once more. These people had lived for thousands of years. Who could say how much of their memories had rotted away into fantasy?

The old woman slowly pushed herself up. Her frame looked fragile, yet her steps carried absolute conviction.

"Come."

"Where?"

"To the place that has waited for you all this time."

Surya glanced back at Dimas and the others. Dimas gave a small nod. "We'll come with."

However, the old woman shook her head. "Only him."

"The others cannot enter."

Mr. Yusuf stepped forward immediately. "What if this is a trap?"

The old woman smiled. "If we wanted you dead... you would never have succeeded in crossing into the Last City."

The airtight logic silenced everyone once more. Surya weighed his options for a brief beat before nodding. "I'll go."

The old woman led Surya through the winding city streets. The farther they walked, the more the houses faded away, replaced by sweeping gardens choked with jet-black flowers. In the center of the gardens stood ancient statues.

Just like the ones in the Tomb of a Thousand Kings... every single face had been battered away.

"Why are their faces always destroyed?" Surya asked.

The old woman paused. "Because a name... is power."

"And a face... is memory."

Surya caught only fragments of meaning from the cryptic answer. Yet he was beginning to grasp one fundamental truth: here in the Shadow World, memory held a value infinitely greater than mere nostalgia.

Moments later, they arrived at a modest hill. At its peak stood a small black temple. There were no doors. No windows. Only a single open corridor leading into the interior.

The moment Surya stepped inside—

The Soul Sigil on his palm violently thundered.

Thud... thud...

Growing louder by the second.

The Relic began to vibrate. For the first time since it had chosen Surya... its voice sounded shaken.

"It has been so long..."

"...since I last returned to this place."

Surya halted his stride. "You've been here before?"

The Relic offered no reply.

The temple corridor stretched on endlessly, flanked by black torches burning without a flame. The deeper they advanced, the heavier the air grew, until every step felt like carrying a burden of hundreds of kilograms. Yet the Soul Sigil blazed with a fierce, blinding light.

Finally, they stepped into a vast, circular hall. Surya froze dead in his tracks.

In the center of the room... stood a throne.

Carved entirely from gleaming black stone, its towering backrest rose upward like a broken wing. Carved along its frame was an emblem identical to the black crown stamped across Surya's Soul Sigil.

The seat looked deceptively simple. Yet the aura radiating from it made Surya's chest seize.

"That..." The old woman lowered her head in reverence. "The Ash Throne."

"Where the final kings forged their decrees."

Surya stepped forward slowly. The closer he drew, the wilder the Soul Sigil pulsed. The Relic shook violently.

Suddenly—

The Ancient Ash Sword strapped across Surya's back detached itself, floating up into mid-air. It was joined by the Ring of the Silent King, which flared with brilliant radiance. The two relics orbited the Ash Throne in a tight circle.

Surya's eyes widened. "What's happening?"

The Relic answered flatly, "Your legacy is evolving."

An explosion of black light swallowed the chamber whole. The Ancient Ash Sword began to fracture, cracks spiderwebbing from the hilt down to the tip. Yet rather than shattering into dust, the blade transformed.

It elongated, its hue shifting to a pitch-black as deep as a starless sky. Ancient runes materialized along the length of the steel. Meanwhile, the Ring of the Silent King melted into a pool of liquid light, flowing upward to blanket the sword's hilt, fusing into a distinct, small crown emblem near the grip.

Seconds later, the transformation ceased.

The newly forged sword drifted downward. Surya reached out on instinct, his fingers wrapping around the hilt.

The moment his skin made contact, the mysterious voice echoed through the hall:

《Legacy Evolved.》

《Relic Evolved.》

《The Ash King's Sword is Born.》

A tidal wave of black aura erupted from Surya's body. The entire hall shuddered. The stone floor cracked, and the black torches flared blindingly bright.

The old woman dropped to her knees once more, tears spilling over her lashes. "At last..."

"The Throne acknowledges him."

Surya stared down at the blade in his hands. He could feel a surge of raw, terrifying power rushing through his veins.

Yet... alongside it—another fragment of his memory was violently erased.

He tried to recall the face of his schoolteacher. Blank.

He tried to remember the name of the street leading to his home. Blank.

The curse... was still claiming its toll.

The Relic whispered quietly, "Every evolution demands a price."

Surya gave a bitter smile. "Figured as much."

Suddenly, the entire chamber plunged into absolute darkness. The torches extinguished in unison. The old woman vanished. Even the stone floor beneath Surya's boots dissolved into nothingness.

All that remained was him... and the Ash Throne.

Silence.

And then... a voice materialized. Not the Relic's. Not the Ancient Wardens'. This voice was infinitely older. Infinitely more majestic. As though it had existed since the dawn of the Shadow World itself.

"Surya..."

He spun around. No one was there.

The voice returned.

"You have accepted the legacy."

"You have passed the trial."

"You have found the throne."

Silence reclaimed the space. Surya gripped the Ash King's Sword tighter. "Who are you?"

No answer. Only a low, soft chuckle echoing from every direction.

And then, the mysterious voice whispered once more—its tone dripping with an irresistible, terrifying temptation:

"Sit..."

"...and the Shadow World shall be yours."