Chapter 16: The Nameless Sovereign’s Tomb [4]

The heavy stone doors groaned open.

Cold air, ancient and stale, rushed out like a sigh from a forgotten god. It carried with it the scent of dust, rot, and something else—something older than death itself.

Julies didn’t flinch.

He stepped inside.

The throne room was vast—far too vast to exist under a ruin this size. The walls curved out into darkness, and the ceiling disappeared into shadow. Time stood still here. Even his footsteps barely made a sound, as though the air refused to carry noise.

The skeleton sovereign on the throne stared down at him with hollow sockets, its posture unnervingly regal. Its crown, untouched by decay, gleamed with unnatural brilliance. One bony hand still rested on the hilt of a massive, rusted sword, the other stretched open—as if waiting for something to be placed in it.

The system alert popped into Julies vision again:

> [Boss Monster: Nameless Sovereign — Level ???]

Threat Level: Unknown

Recommended Action: Retreat or Accept Consequences.]

He ignored it.

This was what he came for.

Another notification pinged.

> [You are now within range of the Grave King’s Domain.]

[Escape temporarily locked.]

Julies’s jaw tightened.

No backing out now.

He stepped forward—once, twice—until he stood ten paces from the throne. Then he stopped.

Taking a deep breath, Julies lowered his head in a formal bow, the kind nobles were trained to offer royalty.

“I, Julies Evans of the Solhaven Empire, greet His Majesty the Nameless Sovereign.”

Outside the throne room, Doran raised an eyebrow, watching through the half-closed door with thinly veiled disbelief.

’Is he… trying to talk to it? That’s insane.’

Monsters didn’t respond to words. Everyone knew that.

And yet, a voice echoed through the death-soaked chamber. Deep. Hollow. Ancient.

> “Did you come to pay your respects to me?”

Doran’s breath caught.

The monster… answered.

The skeletal king’s voice had a weight to it, like wind rustling through forgotten graves. Cold. Regal. Heavy with sorrow.

“Yes,” Julies replied, his voice unwavering.

Even with the pressure of the Grave King’s aura bearing down on him like a mountain, he didn’t flinch.

“I came to honor you.”

There was a pause. The massive skeleton on the throne leaned forward slightly, eye sockets glowing with faint light.

> “An outsider who knows courtesy… You are the first to bow before me.”

> “Speak your desire. I shall grant it.”

Julies met the gaze of the cursed monarch without fear.

“I seek only one thing, Your Majesty—your rest.”

The Nameless Sovereign stared at him for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.

> “Impossible. Not with your feeble strength.”

Julies nodded.

“I know. I’m still weak.”

But then he placed a hand over his chest and straightened his back, eyes steady.

> “But if you’ll trust me… I’ll become strong enough to break your curse.”

The Grave King tilted his skull ever so slightly.

> “Explain yourself.”

Julies took a step closer. “Give me your blessing. Lend me your power—and I’ll use it to set you free.”

From his vantage point outside, Doran’s jaw dropped slightly.

’Unbelievable.’

He finally saw the boy for what he really was.

Not just bold—but cunning.

It wasn’t just a plea.

Julies was negotiating.

Making an offer.

’Help me now, and I’ll help you later.’

Not with flattery. Not with tears.

With logic.

The boy might’ve looked like a greenhorn, but his mind was sharp. Calculating. Like a seasoned dealmaker cloaked in youth.

“Please, Your Majesty,” Julies said, lowering his head once more. “Let me be your sword.”

’…And cut you down.’

The room fell into stillness.

The Grave King said nothing at first. But something in the way his bony fingers curled against the throne showed he was thinking.

Doran crossed his arms and gave a low whistle.

’Kid’s not a merchant. Merchants deal in gold. This one? He deals in promises.’

He couldn’t tell if Julies was fearless or just a lunatic with a silver tongue. But either way—

He was dangerous.

> “…It is difficult to trust you,” the Grave King said slowly.

Julies smiled faintly.

“But Your Majesty will choose me anyway.”

> “Why?”

“Because I’m the only one who can talk to you like this. The only one who knows how.”

His tone didn’t change, but Doran caught the subtle implication buried beneath those words.

’Pick me… or be alone forever.’

There it was.

A quiet threat wrapped in diplomacy.

Even the Grave King went silent for a beat longer.

Doran leaned against the wall, letting out a slow breath.

’I’ve seen my fair share of cons, but this… this is on a different level.’

And yet—he couldn’t help but admire it.

Julies wasn’t gambling with money or luck.

He was wagering himself.

And against all odds… he might just win.

The Grave King’s gaze lingered on Julies, as if trying to see beyond his flesh—into the truth of his soul.

A long silence stretched between them, thick with the scent of dust and decay.

Then, finally—

“You speak with conviction… but your soul is still mortal. Fragile. Unworthy.”

His voice echoed through the chamber like the toll of a distant funeral bell.

“And yet… it has been so long since anyone stood before me and offered anything other than screams.”

“Still you are nothing but fragile mortal. Unworthy.”

Julies didn’t respond. He simply stood still, back straight, chin lifted.

The Grave King’s eye sockets narrowed ever so slightly.

“What makes you think you are worthy of my blessing?”

Julies finally spoke.

“Because I came knowing I’d be refused.”

He took a step forward. The floor cracked slightly beneath his boot, weighed down not by pressure, but by the courage it took to stand his ground.

“I knew you would question me. Doubt me. Maybe even kill me.”

Another step.

“But I still came.”

The air grew colder with each word.

Julies’s breath fogged in front of him, yet he kept walking—three more steps until he stood just five paces from the throne.

“Not because I’m strong now—but because I will be.”

“You speak of inevitability.”

“I speak of choice.”

The Grave King’s head tilted again, the blue light in his eyes flickering.

Julies bowed his head once more.

“Im the only who can free you, Your Majesty.”

For a long moment, silence.

And then—

“…Very well.”

A pulse surged through the chamber.

The torches along the walls flared with eerie blue fire. The very air trembled.

Doran instinctively stepped back as a circle of necrotic runes ignited beneath Julies’s feet.

> “I shall mark you, Julies Evans of Solhaven.”

The Grave King’s voice echoed like a curse and a coronation all at once.

Power surged from the runes, coiling around Julies like a serpent of smoke and shadow. The chamber shook with ancient energy—and when it settled, the boy stood marked, but not broken.

Then, with a flick of the king’s skeletal finger, a sound echoed through the throne room. A chest materialized beside the throne—no fanfare, no warning. Just the thud of something long buried finally being unearthed.

Inside it were relics. Ones Doran instantly recognized.

Not ordinary treasures.

Boss drops.

And he got them… without even lifting a sword.

Doran’s jaw clenched as he watched Julies step forward, kneel once more before the Grave King, and respectfully take only what was offered.

Doran’s heart skipped a beat.

The boy didn’t just survive a monster’s domain—he made a deal with it. Convinced a tyrant king of death to bless him. No swords. No spells. Just words, and a presence that made even the undead pause.

’This kid… he’s not just special. He’s dangerous.’

Doran watched as Julies turned and walked calmly out of the boss room, a faint pulse of necrotic energy still lingering in his steps.

And in that moment, Doran made a decision.

’I’m not letting this kid go.’

No way.

Not after what he’d just witnessed.

He caught up to Julies just outside the door, unable to stop the grin stretching across his face.

“Ever thought about becoming a thief?”

Julies blinked, half-turning to glance at him.

Julies didn’t respond.

Just stared at Doran with unreadable eyes.

But Doran’s other hand, the one behind his back, tightened around the hilt of a hidden dagger.

He had no intention of letting the boy walk away.

Not if he said no.

Not when he could be worth more than any artifact in this damn dungeon.

If the boy refused…

Well, Doran had taken things by force before.

His fingers adjusted on the blade, ever so slightly.

Doran knew one thing for certain.

The boy had just stolen something far greater than gold.

And Doran would be damned if he let a treasure like that walk away unguarded.

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