Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne-Chapter 34: All this effort… and this is the pathetic end?

Pharos stretched lazily in the hammock strung between two trees. No one knew where he got it from—and that was the best part. The breeze swayed him gently, and the sound of waves in the distance was almost hypnotic. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"I'll stay here for a week... maybe longer," he murmured with a smile, folding his hands behind his head. "The longer I delay going back to the castle, the better."

He paused, then lazily opened one eye to glance up at the sky.

"Veynessa’s lucky to have that girl with her," he mumbled. "She has no idea just how lucky."

His eyes drifted closed again. His breathing slowed as his body melted into the warm embrace of the hammock. Leaves rustled overhead, and waves lapped steadily at the shore. The world seemed to slow down, and at last, sleep took him.

***

Veynessa’s heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts a whirl of panic. Calista... No. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t be over. She clenched her fists, ignoring her own pain. She had to stand. She had to fight. But her body refused to move, as if every muscle had been shackled by invisible chains.

"What a pathetic sight," Rhaegar's voice sneered, dripping with contempt and triumph. "This is how the proud fall—those who think they’re strong but are really just weaklings hiding behind their Qi."

Veynessa glared at him, fury in her eyes, but there wasn’t a trace of fear in his. He looked at her like prey with no escape.

Rhaegar stood above them, relishing his dominance.

"So this is how your pride ends, Veynessa," he said, taking a step forward. "Now you can’t even lift your hand. What a fall from grace."

Then his gaze turned to Calista.

"You and Calista were close, weren’t you?" he asked mockingly, his voice saturated with cruelty. "I wonder how you’ll react when I end your dear friend’s life right before your eyes."

He walked slowly toward Calista’s unmoving body, each step echoing in the suffocating silence of the Labyrinth. He knelt beside her, watching her limp form.

"It’s over, little girl," he whispered, raising his hand for the finishing blow.

"NO!" Veynessa's scream echoed through the Labyrinth. Her entire body tensed in a desperate attempt to rise, but pain and exhaustion held her down. Her chest heaved, and her throat burned.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, hands clawing at the cold ground in helpless rage. Her voice caught, choked by raw emotion. This couldn’t be the end. Not like this. Not her.

Tears blurred her vision—not of sorrow, but of fury and despair. Please... someone... anything... Her thoughts spiraled into a chaotic prayer, a plea thrown into the void. She’s my only friend—the one who stood by me in my darkest moments. Don’t let her die. Even if it costs me my soul.

Her body refused to move, her limbs screamed in agony, yet she still reached out—toward Calista. To shield her. To protect her. Even if only for a second.

But she knew she wouldn't make it in time.

And just as Rhaegar's blow was about to fall—

Something changed.

There was no warning.

Just a crack.

Not the snap of bone. Not the roar of an explosion.

The barrier around them shattered, as if it had never existed. The air thickened. Time seemed to slow.

Rhaegar’s muscles tensed instinctively, but none of his commands reached his limbs. It was as though his will had been stripped away, leaving him a puppet suspended in nothingness.

His heart pounded, though he didn’t know why. Alarm bells rang in his mind, but he couldn’t sense the threat’s source.

And then he felt it.

A presence.

Not a touch, not a sound, not a shadow—yet something heavy, paralyzing, descended upon him, like someone standing directly behind.

A shadow shifted along the ground, taking form into something Rhaegar didn’t want to see. The air thickened, as though the world had gained mass, and one question boomed inside his skull: Who...?

He didn’t need to turn around to know.

Someone stood behind him.

This wasn’t a normal enemy. Every instinct in Rhaegar’s body screamed. Every part of his being wanted to flee.

But he couldn’t.

His body betrayed him.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

"What the…?" Rhaegar whispered, unable to summon the courage to turn.

No sound. No signal. No warning of arrival.

He was simply there.

"That’s it?" The voice was calm, almost bored. "All this effort... and this is the pathetic end?"

Rhaegar finally managed to move. His body trembled, but he forced himself to slowly raise his head. He didn’t know what exactly was behind him, but every cell in his body screamed not to turn around.

And yet, he did.

Slowly. Reluctantly. As if the air itself had thickened, pressing him down. He didn’t want to look—but he had to. Terror and instinct wrestled for control.

Then he saw him.

Those glowing blue eyes beneath the shadow of the hood. The tattoos on his face pulsed like living things. He didn’t emanate Qi, didn’t release an aura.

And yet…

The world bent to him.

Rhaegar felt something he never had before.

Numbness. Not from cold. Not from fatigue.

From fear.

"D-Do you even know who I am?" he croaked.

The man raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"No." He tilted his head. "But it doesn't matter"

And then Rhaegar dropped to his knees.

No warning.

As if the world itself had decided that his place was on his knees before this man.

"No… What are you doing to me?!"

"You’re asking the wrong question," the man replied with a sigh. "You should be asking whether you even still exist."

Suddenly, Rhaegar felt something he couldn’t comprehend.

His Qi… vanished.

Not drained. Not stolen. It simply ceased to be.

His skin paled. His body weakened.

Fear was etched into his face

"Oh, you’re starting to understand?" the man’s smile widened. "Good. That’s always the most entertaining part."

Rhaegar tried to speak, but his throat closed up in silent terror. Air caught in his lungs. Reality itself seemed to deny him the right to make a sound.

His mouth opened and closed in convulsions, trying to say something. To beg. To curse. Anything.

But he no longer had even that.

His eyes widened in sheer panic, his body shuddered in spasms. His mind screamed, his heart raced, every fiber of his being cried out for survival.

But he was utterly powerless.

The man sighed, as if disappointed. He raised two fingers and flicked his hand in a careless gesture.

Rhaegar didn’t even have time to register it. One moment, his body was whole.

The next—his head hit the ground with a dull thud.

No pain. No chance to react. Just... death.

Blood pooled rapidly, evaporating slightly in the cold Labyrinth air. There was no ceremony. No final words.

Just death.

The man let out a tired sigh, as if the entire affair hadn’t been worth his time.

He looked at Veynessa.

Her body no longer hurt. The pain that had pierced her muscles and lungs moments ago was gone—vanished as though it had never existed. Her once shallow, ragged breathing was now calm and steady. Warmth spread through her limbs, as if every wound, every bruise, had been nothing but a bad dream. It wasn’t healing.

It was total restoration.

"Pathetic," he said with bored disdain. "The so-called queen of this generation, barely holding her own against that trash?"

She didn’t respond. Her fingers curled around the cold stone beneath her, her eyes glued to the ground, unable to meet his gaze. Shame burned inside her—not just for the state she was in, but for needing to be saved. After a moment, in a voice barely above a whisper, she muttered:

"Thank you for the rescue… ancestor."

The man tilted his head, as if debating whether he heard her correctly. Then he scoffed.

"Pitiful," he snapped. "Don’t ask for mercy if you don’t intend to get better. Maybe next time you won’t look like some helpless creature praying for a miracle."

He shook his head and glanced at Calista, clearly losing interest in Veynessa.

"Get up."

It wasn’t a request.

It was a reality the world itself obeyed.

Calista flinched. Her breath deepened as a sudden surge of energy flooded her lungs. Her fingers twitched—first slightly, then more purposefully, as if her body had just remembered how to move. Warmth coursed through her muscles, evaporating exhaustion and pain. Her eyes snapped open, and her mind finally began to catch up to reality.

She was alive. Fully and undeniably alive.

Confused, Calista tried to understand what was happening—until a male voice cut through the haze.

“You still look like you don’t know what just happened,” he sighed. “Are you really that stupid, or just shaken?”

Calista stared at him with wide eyes.

“Grandfather…?”

The man stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes glowing with cold blue light. He looked down at Calista with sheer disappointment. Not rage—something far worse. A calm, smothering silence that chilled the soul.

“This is it?” he asked suddenly, tilting his head. “Seriously?”

Calista swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” she murmured.

He sighed, as if even his disappointment was too much effort to express.

“You’re seriously asking what I mean?” he repeated, like the question itself was laughable. “Look at yourself. Look at her.” He gestured at Veynessa, who was still struggling to comprehend that her pain had vanished.

“Two warriors who came here to… what exactly?”

Veynessa coughed and tried to rise, but when she met his eyes, she froze. The air grew heavier, crushing. His presence felt like an unseen weight anchoring the world.

“The Labyrinth's guardian disappeared,” Calista finally said, trying to sound steady, though her voice trembled. “Something changed. The chaos got worse. We had to intervene.”

“Intervene,” he repeated, dragging the word out like it was some kind of joke. “So that’s what this is?” He swept a hand toward the blood-soaked battlefield. “You stormed the Labyrinth, stumbled right into the first half-assed trap you saw, got flattened by some loser who wasn’t even the real threat… and ended up nearly dead on the ground? What a brilliant 'intervention.'”

His gaze landed on Veynessa, longer now. He studied her like someone trying to decide if an object was worth keeping—or discarding.

Then he sighed, mockingly dramatic.

“And you’re the queen of this generation?” he muttered. “Wow. Standards really have fallen.”

Veynessa’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t look away.

“We couldn’t let those beasts reach the surface. It would’ve been a massacre.”

He stared at her. And then he laughed. Quietly, almost silently—but it was the kind of laughter that made your skin crawl.

“Ah, I get it. You’re heroes.”

His smirk returned. “Saving the helpless, preserving order. And in all your infinite wisdom, you figured the best plan was to charge in and slaughter everything before it could leave? Fascinating.”

Calista narrowed her eyes.

“You got a problem with that?” she growled.

“Problem? Not at all. It’s adorable.” He raised his hand and clapped twice, slow and sarcastic. “In fact, I’ll even do you a favor.”

Veynessa tensed. The air around her began to hum—subtle at first, then stronger. She instinctively clenched her fists. Something was happening.

The man raised a hand.

And snapped his fingers.

Silence.

The Labyrinth—once filled with the roars and footfalls of thousands of beasts—went dead. The air no longer vibrated with snarls or the pounding of monstrous limbs.

Veynessa’s heart shot into her throat. Calista’s eyes widened.

This wasn’t an illusion.

This wasn’t time reversal.

Every single beast in the Labyrinth... was dead.

The man looked at them with a faint smile.

“There. All done.” He dusted off his hands. “The monsters are gone. Good job, ladies.”

Then his eyes flicked to Calista, his tone dropping a few degrees colder.

“I hope you reflect on this. Next time… try not to disappoint me so completely.”

Before either of them could speak, he bent down and casually picked up Rhaegar’s severed head, turning it in his hands like he was judging its weight.

And then—

He vanished.

No sound. No flash of light. Just… gone.

All that remained was silence.

And the two of them, standing in a world that, moments ago, had been hell.