NOVEL NEXT Chapter 42: Threads of a Crown
The training hall transformed into a small hellish trench. The gravity runes lit up—60x for the core, 30x for the breaching squad. The air vibrated heavily every time I said, "Start."
Selena repeated the Halberd Form—Eternal Winter pattern under load, each rotation splitting the mist into ice crystals and then dissolving into black vapor.
Rena held [CHAOS DOMAIN] in tight mode, switching on and off every 20 seconds—a domain stamina exercise.
Nana locked down Cheondan—Shield Fortress ➜ Guard Break consecutively while enduring a simulated hail of holy arrows from Algor.
Malrik summoned a small-scale Gorewurm, getting used to opening and closing the rift without breaking formation.
Clarissa roamed around with a cold Blood Draught, maintaining the mental temperature of the troops testing a "drop" of Celes' elixir.
Nysha disappeared—reappeared at the shadow spike points I marked, memorizing the intervals of her mana breaths.
I circled the floor. "Calculate your soul reserves, not just your breath. In the Cathedral, the anchor usually dies first—not the flesh."
Noa Genesis in my hand pulsed slowly, measuring each soldier's rhythm.
"Rena 0.91 stable. Selena down to 0.86—lower intensity 5%. Nana up to 0.93—good," he reported.
In the corner, a lesser demon was nearly flat on the floor. His body was small, his horns cracked, but his eyes a fire that wouldn't go out. He forced himself to his feet, fell again, stood again. The name on the roster: Kirx.
I stopped. "Name?"
He swallowed, standing as straight as he could. "K—Kirx, My Lord."
His gaze was stubborn—a kind of fire that rarely lingers in the lower castes. There was something in his veins.
"Noa," I whispered, "let's see the thread."
"Warning: your soul integrity is just recovering. Using destiny vision consumes 2–3% of your anchor," Noa replied coldly.
I looked at Kirx again. "I'll pay."
Noa resigned himself. "Run."
I raised the gauntlet to eye level; the ancient runes of Amon glowed through the crystals.
[VEIL-SHEAR: THREADSIGHT]
The world was sliced thin. Behind the thin curtain of time, Kirx's threads stretched—thin, tangled and then suddenly thickened, branching like horns. Among tens of thousands of possibilities, one path blazed like the beak of dawn—Kirx standing on the edge of a precipice, clad in black armor that wasn't mine, a broken crown on his forehead, a Domain blooming on his back: a new throne.
"Demon King," I murmured. A distant future—either as a successor I forged or a usurper if I let it grow on its own.
Noa echoed, softly. "Confirmation: probability of 'Crown' path forming. Determining factors: mentor and initial anchor."
ThreadSight went out. A faint chill gnawed at my side—the price of magic. I endured.
Kirx was still staring at me, not yet understanding that he had just been weighed by time. I leaned in, touching Noa's knuckles to his forehead—not a force, just a signal.
"Listen, Kirx. Starting today, you're in the heart of the training. You'll carry twice the weight of the other troops and wake up an hour early. If you collapse, you crawl. If you faint, Clarissa will drag you back. Understand?"
He was trembling—not with fear, but with a strange relief. "Understood, My Lord!"
"Good. Don't die before I finish carving you."
I turned to the others. "Take a five-minute break. Continue with the second cycle."
After the session, I headed to the Abyss Library—a dense stone athenaeum beneath the castle, its shelves filled with books that hated light. The iron door opened an eye—a literal eye—and let me in.
The dust wasn't dust; it was the ashes of an old oath. I wandered down the hall until I found three volumes I knew Amon had used:
"The Nine Kitchens—Crucibles of Amon"
– Ancient demonic training: not strengthening muscles, but thickening the anchor.
– Training set I–III: Breath of Void (a hollow breath to mend cracks), Abyssal Stance (a stance that defies gravity), Ebon Pulse (a pulse of darkness synchronized with the Domain).
– Training set IV–VI: Blood-Forge Circuits (circulating aura through the "iron pathways" of the body), Soul Callus (a callus of the soul—immunity to sacred pain), Moon Rotations (rotating the lunar element without letting it enter the anchor).
– Training set VII–IX: King's Loom (resewing small "names"), War Chant Sunder (a spell that quells an opponent's prayers), and Crown Simmer—a method of cooking the Domain to perfection (warning: temporary insanity is possible).
"Hell-Forged Katas—Hell-Forged Katas (Reconstructed Edition)"
– A sequence of movements to discipline the Domain with each blow: Forefist ➜ Shear ➜ Collapse ➜ Seal.
– Amon's Note: "Don't enlarge the Domain—narrow it for beautiful weight."
"Reversal Litany—Counter-Choir Sutra"
– How to bend the church's litany: save their voices, rewind the timer, then fill it with silence.
– Requirements: three nails made with moon + lightning + knight blood—exactly what we already have.
I closed the volume, formulating a daily plan to maximize what we could bring to the Cathedral:
Morning (2 hours):
Training set I–III for all cores: Breath of Void (4 counts in, 8 still, 4 out), Abyssal Stance at 40× gravity, and Ebon Pulse while firing compressed [Dragon Shot]—all hits must channel Domain, not wild aura.
Afternoon (2 hours):
The breach squad (Selena, Nana, Malrik) practiced Blood-Forge Circuits under the sound of Algor's synthetic choir—a sacred simulation. Nana drilled Guard Break ➜ Radiant Slash using a drop of elixir to test resistance.
Afternoon (2 hours):
Rena focused on Soul Callus and Moon Rotations: Chaos envelops the sacred—not striking. Nysha memorized the Counter-Choir Sutra step by step, synchronizing her spikes with her breath.
Evening (1 hour):
Light King's Loom: suturing post-practice micro-cracks. Clarissa circulated soul coolant.
Noa confirmed, his voice like a distant gong. "A tough schedule, but doable. Note: You've lost 2% soul from ThreadSight. Crown Simmer recommendation—postponed until after the Cathedral."
"Approved," I said. "We're not crazy until we knock down the bells."
As I turned, a thin page had fallen out of the Crucibles of Amon—tucked away like a secret. The scrawl read:
"The Third Phase of the King's Domain is not opened by blood or flame.
It is opened by forced silence—victory in a place that should sing."
I smiled faintly. "The Cathedral," I whispered. "A place that should sing."
I cast one last glance at the shelves. Tomorrow morning, the Nine training set would be lit. I would take Kirx to the edge of the cliff—not to knock him down, but to teach him to stand.