The grand city square was bustling, alive with anticipation and the scent of roasted meat stalls competing with the chatter of hopefuls eager for a chance to claim the legendary dagger. It was lodged deep in a towering stone pillar, glinting menacingly under the scorching sun.
A line of eager competitors snaked around the plaza, all taking turns trying to pull the dagger free. Royal guards stood at the ready, their faces unreadable beneath polished helmets.
A large banner fluttered overhead with an official proclamation:
"Successfully free the dagger, and gain the king's favor!
Choose to serve as the royal guard or claim one wish—except for marriage to the king's daughters, because even royalty has boundaries."
Zane approached casually, hands in his coat pockets, eyes cold and calculating.
He stepped up to the stone and eyed the dagger—a weapon that once belonged to him, or so Link had said.
"Why won't you move?" Zane muttered under his breath, tapping the cold metal lightly with his finger.
"Maybe it's just tired of you," Link quipped, perched on his shoulder, his usual smug grin in place.
Zane ignored him, his gaze sharpening.
He'd been relying on his shadow powers to sneak, distract, and hide, but the dagger required more. It demanded the Void—something deeper, something more raw.
Taking a deep breath, Zane called upon that hidden power.
His eyes flared bright crimson, then deepened into a swirling purple vortex—the unmistakable mark of someone who had claimed the Heir of the End title.
The air thickened, shadows crawling like living things across the plaza's stone tiles.
A ghostly black crown shimmered into existence just above Zane's head, pulsating with dark energy. The crowd around him fell eerily silent, whispers spreading like wildfire.
Then, the dagger shuddered violently in the stone. A metallic clang echoed through the square as the blade suddenly wrenched free on its own, soaring gracefully through the air to land in Zane's outstretched palm.
The royal guards stiffened, eyes wide with shock.
Competitors stared, jaws slack.
Zane's lips curled into a smirk.
"Well, that's one way to avoid the line," he said, voice low but dripping with amusement.
Link whispered from his shoulder, "I knew you had it in you... or at least in your purple eye."
Nyx, cloaked in shadow nearby, chuckled softly, "Heir of the End looks good on you, but try not to scare the peasants."
The king's herald, a bright-eyed man with an awkward bow, hurried over, stammering. "Your... uh... Majesty, the blade has been claimed! Shall we proceed with the ceremony?"
Zane gave the crowd a lazy bow and glanced at the guards. "Hold your horses. I'm still deciding what to do with this 'wish' thing."
A voice from the crowd called out, "Can you wish for unlimited roasted meat?"
Zane grinned wider. "Now that's a wish worth thinking about."
The crowd laughed, tension breaking like a wave.
But deep inside, Zane's mind raced. The dagger's power was calling to him, promising strength—and danger
---Would you like me to continue from here—maybe the king's reaction, or Zane's decision on the wiwish