How to Fake a Kingdom

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Crown of the End

The chamber pulsed with silence.

The fractured throne room stretched endlessly behind the Hollow King—shattered columns, faded banners, rivers of molten silver carving through black stone like veins in a corpse. Above, the ceiling bled into darkness, starless and infinite. At the chamber's center, the Hollow King stood—a creature more shadow than man, porcelain mask cracked, empty eyes burning with ancient hunger.

And across from him, Elliott Fen clutched the relic—its golden light fierce, unyielding, and ready.

The final battle had begun.

The Hollow King's Truth

"You still don't understand," the Hollow King said, voice low, laced with quiet certainty. "I never wanted this."

Elliott's jaw clenched. "You're trying to break the world."

"I'm trying to save it," the Hollow King corrected. He gestured to the broken crowns littering the floor. "Empires fall. Kings die. Civilizations crumble. Over and over. You've seen it—the relic's visions show you everything. The end is inevitable."

Dorian stepped forward, blade gleaming. "The only thing inevitable is you losing."

The Hollow King ignored him, eyes fixed on Elliott. "We can end the cycle. Together. Burn it all down… and build something better."

Elliott's grip on the relic tightened. It pulsed hotter now, responding to his emotions—the storm of doubt, fury, hope boiling in his chest.

"I'm not interested in burning the world," Elliott said coldly. "I'm here to stop you."

The Hollow King tilted his head, a faint crack spiderwebbing across his mask.

"Then you've already chosen destruction."

The Battle Begins

The room erupted in chaos.

Shadow-forged constructs lunged from the shadows—twisted things of bone and darkness, weapons fused to their malformed limbs. The ground cracked as molten silver flooded the floor. The air burned with ancient magic.

Dorian met the first wave, shield raised, blade flashing.

Marlow unleashed a kinetic blast that hurled enemies into the walls.

Seraphine disappeared into the shadows, reappearing behind the constructs with lethal precision.

Elric—wide-eyed but determined—hurled bursts of unstable arcane energy into the fray.

And Elliott… Elliott raised the relic.

Golden light flooded the chamber.

The constructs recoiled, shadows sizzling in the holy glow. But the Hollow King merely watched, mask splintering further, voice calm amid the storm.

"Your power burns bright," he mused. "But light without control? It consumes."

Power Unleashed

The relic's energy surged through Elliott—raw, overwhelming, ancient.

Memories not his own flooded his mind—Bearers of old, wielders of forgotten power, their lives burned away by the same choice now before him.

The Hollow King advanced, his own magic warping the air. Shadows twisted into spears. The ground buckled. Reality itself rippled around him.

Elliott threw up a barrier of radiant energy, the clash of light and dark shaking the chamber to its foundations.

"You can't win," the Hollow King called. "You can't even control it."

Elliott gritted his teeth. "Watch me."

The Breaking Point

The battle raged on.

Dorian was forced back, a gash along his shoulder bleeding freely.

Seraphine narrowly avoided a shadow spike, landing hard against the floor.

Elric's spells flickered, his reserves dangerously low.

Marlow fought beside Elliott, but even her strength waned.

And all the while, the Hollow King pressed closer—unstoppable, inevitable.

The relic burned in Elliott's hands.

It whispered of power beyond imagining. Of ending the Hollow King. Of rewriting reality itself.

But at what cost?

The Bearer's Choice

Elliott stood at the center of the storm—his friends battered, the fortress crumbling, the relic's energy on the verge of erupting uncontrollably.

The Hollow King loomed before him, mask cracked wide to reveal a flicker of the broken man beneath.

"It's too late," the Hollow King said, voice ragged now. "Choose me… or choose oblivion."

Elliott closed his eyes.

The relic hummed—waiting.

And with steady hands, steady heart, and every ounce of defiance he possessed… Elliott chose neither.

The Relic Shatters

The golden light blazed higher, hotter, brighter than ever before.

But instead of unleashing its full, destructive power… Elliott focused inward.

He poured the energy not into attack, but into fragmentation.

The relic cracked—lines of light splitting its perfect surface.

The Hollow King's eyes widened. "No—"

The relic exploded.

Collapse

The shockwave ripped through the chamber.

Shadow constructs disintegrated.

The molten rivers cooled to silver stone.

The Hollow King staggered, mask falling in shattered fragments to the floor.

And Elliott… Elliott collapsed to his knees, the relic nothing more than golden shards scattered around him.

The fortress groaned.

Cracks spiderwebbed through its walls.

Above, the sky splintered.

Reality unraveled.

And amid the chaos… came silence.

The Hollow King's End

Elliott forced himself upright.

The Hollow King knelt before him—broken, maskless.

For the first time, Elliott saw the man beneath the shadow—the sunken eyes, the lined face, the exhaustion of centuries etched into his skin.

"You destroyed it…" the Hollow King rasped.

"No," Elliott corrected, his voice raw but resolute. "I freed it. And I freed us."

The Hollow King sagged, defeated at last.

To Be Continued…

The fortress falls.

The relic lies shattered.

The Hollow King is undone.

But the world? Still teetering on the edge.

And the Bearer's story… not yet finished.

End of Chapter Twenty-Eight