AK : RISING MYTHIC

The edge of the Twin-Face Sword hovered against Arslan's throat—still, cold, humming with an otherworldly pulse. A single tilt could have ended him.

But it didn't move.

Kar'Thæl's crimson eyes stayed fixed on him—not with rage, not even mockery anymore, but with reflection. After a long silence, he lowered the blade.

> "Let's talk," he said, stepping back, "since you're still so full of questions."

The sword dissolved into dark mist at his side.

Arslan didn't relax. He stayed standing firm, fists clenched, ready for anything.

Kar'Thæl exhaled through his nose, pacing slightly in a half-circle around the room.

> "Let me answer you... about the stones."

His voice lost its theatrical edge. It was deeper now. Tired.

> "You were right. You were the only one right in that room… Those stones should never be handed to the devils. And they should never be placed on the Vault of Sundusk the way they suggested."

He turned toward Arslan again, tone sharpening.

> "Because those stones… are keys."

> "If the devils get all six, they can open gates—not just to this world, but to all the realms: the human world, the elf territories, even the dying lands of Sundusk. And through those gates, they'll bring in monsters, Mid-Level Demon Lords, and worse."

A cold weight dropped into Arslan's stomach.

> So the book… was incomplete. The devils… deceptive.

Arslan narrowed his eyes. "Then why did the devils help us? Warn us about you?"

Kar'Thæl chuckled bitterly.

> "Because they want the stones. They fear me only because I block their plans. They want me destroyed so no one stops them from crossing over freely."

> "They called me the monster, while plotting invasion through lies."

> "But you… You asked the only question that mattered."

Arslan's breath was calm, but his mind was spiraling.

Everything was shifting.

He took a step forward.

"Then why are you always in the Bound Threshold?" he asked. "Why not leave? Why hide?"

Kar'Thæl's expression changed. For the first time—it softened. Something fragile flickered beneath the fire in his eyes.

> "Because this is my home," he said quietly. "Not by choice."

He stepped toward the throne and looked down at the skeleton, this time without amusement.

> "The Threshold was created by my father—a pocket universe to escape into when our home world, Arcana, was attacked."

> "The demons invaded. They came not for war… but for the Stones."

> "My family… my mother… my brothers… were taken."

His jaw clenched.

> "My father had six stones. He gave 3 to me.Remaining 3 devils took from my fayher...Then he used his remaining energy to throw me into the Threshold."

> "He stayed behind… and the devils captured him."

Kar'Thæl's voice was low now—cracking slightly.

> "The Threshold is a world between worlds. Neither here… nor there. But to survive in it, you need something more than power."

> "You need a Vessel."

> "Without a Vessel… we fade. Dissolve into raw energy."

Arslan's eyes widened. "So that's why you seek a prototype?"

Kar'Thæl nodded.

> "Not for conquest. For survival."

> "To live in this unnatural space, I need to bind with a mortal body. One strong enough to handle my essence."

He looked directly at Arslan now.

> "And you… are the most perfect one I've seen. Because you are the one who uses my dark energy perfectly"

Arslan didn't flinch. "But your last Vessel… he died."

Kar'Thæl nodded again. "He broke. His soul fractured. That's his body you see on the floor."

He sighed, then smiled sadly.

> "Now you look at me like I'm your enemy."

> "But let me tell you something else. Three stones are enough to open a single Vault of Sundusk… and from it, only Mid-level demons come through."

> "If all six stones are used, the Vault opens fully… and the High Demons follow."

He tilted his head.

> "I was never your world's destroyer, Arslan. I've been its wall."

The chamber fell silent.

Arslan looked at him, the storm behind his calm eyes churning harder than ever.

> This being… Kar'Thæl… was never the monster they said he was.

> But he's not a savior either. He's something in between. Dangerous. Desperate. Dying.

Kar'Thæl stepped forward again.

The quiet vanished.

His aura surged like a rising wave.

> "I'm tired of talking."

> "I'm tired of waiting."

> "I'm going to take your body now."

Before Arslan could speak, the air cracked—Kar'Thæl raised his hand, and a black ring of chain-like sigils formed around them both.

> "Let the binding begin," he whispered.

A rush of dark energy surged into Arslan's chest.

He gasped as pressure stabbed through his ribs like invisible daggers.

But then—

Nothing happened.

Kar'Thæl's brow furrowed.

He tried again.

More force. More energy.

Still nothing.

> "What…?" Kar'Thæl blinked. "Why is this not working?"

He reached forward again, focusing entirely on Arslan's body and soul.

> "You're resisting."

Arslan stood tall, fists clenched, shoulders heaving.

His voice, though strained, came out clear.

> "You can never bind with me… without my permission."

Kar'Thæl's eyes widened.

He stumbled back one step—genuinely stunned.

> "You're using… soul power," he muttered. "You're not just resisting with body or energy…"

> "You're guarding your soul."

Arslan nodded once. "And I'll guard it until the end."

Kar'Thæl stood still. Silent. Studying.

Then, almost whispering:

> "You're… different from the others."

> "Your soul… it's not cracked. Not worn. Not afraid. It's…"

> "Perfect."

Arslan's dark aura flared once more.

> "Maybe it's perfect enough… to see you die."

For the first time since Arslan entered the Threshold, Kar'Thæl said nothing.

He stood there, astonished.

Not enraged. Not mocking.

Just…

Sad.

Because now he knew.

Without a vessel.

Without Arslan.

He had only days left before he would fade away, never to see Arcana again… never to save his family… never to fulfill what he once believed was his only destiny.