The Shadow Queen Is Too Alluring—I Can't Handle This Anymore!
Chapter 43: The Trial Beneath the Crown

Chapter 43: Chapter 43: The Trial Beneath the Crown

My breath hitched as the world slowed.

The battlefield blurred. The shadowed sky melted into obsidian mist, and the fallen Queen, the enemy heir, the fractured land — all of it disappeared.

I looked down. My hands were no longer holding a blade.

They were glowing. Dripping with shadowlight, trembling like they were caught between blessing and curse.

"Where... am I?" I murmured.

Then I heard it.

A thousand voices. Whispering. Chanting.

And before me, from the endless void, emerged three titanic figures cloaked in flowing shadowfire, each one wearing a different mask—Grief, Wrath, and Silence.

The Primordial Shadows.

This wasn’t a battlefield.

It was a throne room.

A courtroom.

A crucible.

They weren’t here to give me power.

They were here to judge me.

For every time I hesitated.For every time I chose to protect, rather than destroy.For every moment I allowed mercy.

They were the oldest rulers of the Realm, before names, before crowns. And they had no room for weakness.

I felt my resolve crack.

Was I really worthy of the Blood Crown?

Or was I just a scared boy holding a throne too big for his hands?

The space around me shifted like liquid obsidian, swallowing all light.

Each word the Shadows spoke echoed like war drums in my bones.

The figure of Wrath extended a hand, and my memories were pulled from me—like threads unraveling a tapestry.

They floated around me:The Queen shielding me in our first battle.My mother’s smile before the darkness took her.My own reflection... breaking.

Then the mask of Grief turned toward me.

It didn’t speak.

It wept.

And suddenly, every guilt I had ever buried felt like it weighed a thousand suns on my shoulders.

The final figure—Silence—raised its hand.

A blade of pure void formed in the air.

It hovered between us.

"Prove your worth," a thousand voices echoed in unison, "by choosing what all kings must: whom to sacrifice."

Suddenly, two forms appeared beside me.

On one side: The Queen, barely alive, shadowstrings binding her heart.On the other: My own reflection, the Shadow Heir, chained, defiant.

"Only one leaves with you," they whispered. "The other... must perish forever."

And the void blade lowered, waiting for my hand.

To Be Continued...