Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne-Chapter 68: Time to visit my little bunny

After Sylphia’s words, a long, heavy silence fell. The echo of her plea seemed to hang in the air, bouncing off the marble walls of the empty arena. She felt the tension squeeze her throat, her heart pounding unnaturally loud. Kaen didn’t move a single inch. Only his eyes stared at her without expression.

Seconds passed—maybe longer. Kaen lifted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly... and then he burst into laughter. First quietly, as if in disbelief, but soon his laugh turned into a harsh, violent cackle that echoed between the pillars. He tilted his head back, laughing as if at the entire world, his shoulders shaking from the spasms of amusement. But there was no joy in that laughter—only sarcasm, weariness, and something unsettling, as if for a brief moment he had opened the door to his own madness.

Sylphia furrowed her brow, her lashes trembling, the corners of her mouth tightening subtly. She raised her chin, though something inside her shrank. Her left hand curled into a trembling fist. There was a sharp glint in her eyes—anger dimmed by shame, fury restrained by a sense of being dismissed. She wanted to scream, to throw something at his feet, but she simply stood there, eyes locked on the man who laughed at her like a child reaching for the sky.

Kaen abruptly stopped. His laughter died as quickly as it had begun, and his face turned completely serious.

"You are not worthy of my teaching," he said coldly, almost indifferently. "Not even of my time."

Sylphia opened her mouth to respond, but Kaen simply waved his hand, as if swatting away an annoying fly. In that instant, the air around her trembled. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

Before she could say anything, she felt a jolt. An invisible force yanked her backward, pulling her toward the portal that suddenly ignited behind her.

Her body vanished in the light, and a moment later, she hit the ground hard on the other side. The stone floor slammed against her cheek, and tears welled in her eyes—not from pain, but from sheer frustration.

She pushed herself up slowly, struggling to keep her hands from shaking. Her heart still pounded, and her breath came in ragged bursts. When she looked up, she saw the royal family’s faces—some surprised, others indifferent, but all unfamiliar. Her gaze slipped over them without purpose until she finally lowered her head, trying not to show her tears.

She walked mechanically, step by step, as if each movement was forced. Her shoulders were tense, fists clenched. With every step, searing emotions battered her chest: shame, anger, helplessness. She struggled for air, as if there wasn’t enough around her.

The door slammed shut with a dull thud, and Sylphia stood frozen, the sound seemingly stretching through her entire body. She leaned her back against the cold wall. Her arms dropped, and her knees buckled under the weight of her emotions. She collapsed to the floor, limp, as if all strength had been drained from her. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. After a few seconds, she shakily climbed into the bed. She buried her face in the pillow, her body trembling—not from cold, but from the overwhelming storm inside her. Her hands gripped the bedsheet tightly, as if trying to wring solace from it. A quiet sob was the only sound filling the room.

She couldn’t stop the tears.

Her shoulders shook, and tears kept falling onto the pillow, soaking the fabric with disappointment. She sobbed silently, biting her lip until she tasted blood. Her thoughts spun like crazed birds in her head.

"Why..." she whispered, burying her face deeper. "Why is this so wrong? Is it really so much... to want to be strong?"

She clenched her teeth. "Is it... really that funny?"

The image of Kaen laughing at her, his eyes, his scorn—it all burned her from the inside.

"I want it too..." she murmured desperately. "I want to start cultivating too. Why can’t I...?"

There was no determination left in her. Only tears. And a silent accusation thrown at everything and everyone.

***

At the same time, Kaen sat in silence, his elbow resting on the throne’s armrest. His gaze was still, but beneath the surface, something stirred.

In his mind, he still heard those words. "Become my teacher."

Sylphia’s voice blended in his head with another one—a voice he knew all too well. Another boy. But the same words. The same eyes—determined, nearly desperate.

The memory was hazy, like through fog. The boy stood in the rain atop a ruined tower, hands bloodied from blades, knees shaking under his weight. "Become my teacher," he said then, despite the blood on his lips and lightning ripping through the sky. "I want to become strong. I want to avenge my sect."

He stared into the eyes of that child he knew all too well... and then nodded slightly.

"If you truly desire strength," he said softly, a whisper not even the rain could drown, "then I will give it to you. But remember... this path will be your worst nightmare."

The boy said nothing. He only nodded, as if he already knew what awaited him. And accepted it without hesitation.

Kaen clenched his fist, trying to crush the returning image. The veins on his hand bulged, and his nails dug into his skin. That memory... he didn’t want it back.

"I won’t make that mistake again," he whispered to himself.

The aura around him trembled, but this time it wasn’t just a subtle shift in the air. The floor beneath his feet cracked in a fine web, the air thickened, and a low, pulsing sound echoed from the far corners of the arena. A shadow peeled away from his feet, writhing like a living thing, and the light dimmed, as if frightened.

Kaen drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Everything returned to normal—as if it had never happened. He opened his eyes and sighed.

Space tore with a hiss, and he rose from the throne without a word, stepping into the fractured dimension.

In a blink, he appeared beside the Elders and Calista.

Yllara, Fenthar, Maerion, Theron, and Calista turned to him almost simultaneously.

"Where... are we?" Yllara asked, looking around uncertainly.

Before them, like the pulsing heart of a nightmare, stood a black core. It radiated an aura so dense and oppressive the air itself seemed to tremble.

Kaen approached slowly, as if his presence soothed the space itself. He raised his hand and pointed to the patterns swirling around the core—liquid sigils, resembling intricate formations.

"This is the Abyss King’s Core," he said softly. "You should know that name from legends. Every great sect safeguards a fragment of his core to prevent this being from ever regaining full power, to ensure he cannot be reborn."

He gestured at the swirling sigils.

"It was only after studying this fragment that I understood... this being did not command one law. Not two but Dozens. Each one pulses through this structure like a living echo. What you see around it is a formation I created to let you approach that level of comprehension."

The Elders exchanged glances, a mix of fascination and unease in their eyes.

"Within this structure, you can literally make contact with his remnants," Kaen continued. "You can feel how they resonate with your body and spirit. If you handle it properly, you may gain deeper insight into the laws he once studied. But..."

He paused, his gaze sharpening.

"Too much exposure to his influence can lead to corruption. This is not a place for the faint-hearted. Each of you decides how much time you spend here."

He pulled a small object from his pocket—a dark crystal with pulsing light inside—and handed it to Calista and the others.

"This is a key to this dimension. Each of you gets one. With it, you may enter at will."

Without another word, he vanished, dissolving into the air like a shadow stolen by the wind.

For a moment, no one spoke. The Elders stared at where Kaen had just stood. What he had shown them... defied understanding.

"What kind of monster has he become..." Maerion muttered, eyes fixed on the pulsing core. "Not only did he grasp something from a being so ancient, he also created a formation that lets others resonate with it..."

The Elders looked at one another. Yllara was the first to step forward. Though her body was tired and her breath still uneven from earlier, a spark lit in her eyes. Such victory... felt like defeat. But that was exactly why she couldn’t back down.

She clenched her fists, drew a breath, and moved forward.

"Let’s not waste time," she said firmly. "Let’s see what we can draw from this."

The others looked at each other—for a moment, hesitating. Fenthar exchanged a glance with Theron, Maerion studied the patterns surrounding the core. Finally, as if by shared instinct, they began. Their bodies straightened, hands lifted toward the sigils, and their breathing synchronized with the rhythm of the formation. Step by step, they approached its edge, immersing themselves in the pulsing light as if its density could penetrate them.

Only Calista remained still, turning the pulsing crystal in her hand. She looked at the Elders already hunched over the formation and gave a crooked smile.

"I’m not at the eighth stage yet," she muttered to herself. "Until I discover my primary law, all of this might just be noise."

She turned and looked at the crystal again. "I’ll leave for now," she called to the Elders. For a moment, they looked at her in surprise, not understanding. But after a few seconds, as they looked at her more closely, understanding dawned. They nodded, saying nothing more.

Without waiting, she activated the key and vanished from the dimension.

"Time to visit my little bunny," she murmured to herself.

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