A ripple of shocked murmurs passed through the coalition ranks.

"What should we do?"

"Do we charge?" one commander asked, a hand tightened around a weapon.

The air felt colder now, the distant monolith casting long, trembling shadows across the barren plain.

"Wait," another commander said. "It could be a trap."

All eyes turned to Lina. She had closed her eyes, extending her senses across the plain. A few tense seconds passed before she opened them again, calm but measured, her brow slightly furrowed.

"No," she said softly. "I-it doesn't feel like a trap. But there's something very unsettling about that structure."

Her words drew cautious glances among the commanders, but unease lingered like a shadow over their faces.

Still they got a silent approval to march ahead. .

The coalition forces of Yan and Jul began their march. Step by step, they advanced, their silhouettes flickering under the twin starlight like ghostly flames.

Across the plain, the Durn soldiers still remained in their kneeling positions, as if they didn't even hear the two army approaching.

The air itself seemed to grow heavier as the two army drew closer.

A low hum radiated from the monolith, slow and rhythmic, like a heartbeat that grew louder with every step closer they got.

Finally, they stopped, separated by barely a few hundred meters. Yet, the durns were still kneeling.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Shields rose. Blades glinted. Muscles coiled like springs.

"Advance!"

The two armies surged forward. Battle cries echoed across the flat, barren plain, sharp against the low hum of the monolith.

But before they could reach the Durn's side, the air itself convulsed.

A silent pulse rippled outward, distorting the flatland like water rippling from a stone. The twin stars flickered violently, and then vanished.

In an instant, the endless stone plain dissolved beneath them.

The soldiers found themselves standing on polished marble floors that shimmered faintly like molten gold.

Massive pillars etched with unfamiliar runes rose to a vaulted ceiling far above. Golden chandeliers hovered, their flames casting a divine, almost suffocating light across the hall.

They were no longer on a empty flatland. They stood inside a royal hall, vast and impossibly ornate. Every surface glimmered with wealth and power, yet the grandeur felt eerie.

And then the pressure came.

It descended like a mountain of invisible weight, pressing against their chests, their skulls, their hearts. The air itself seemed to constrict, suffocating and electric. Every soldier froze, gripping their weapons tighter as if the act alone could anchor them against the crushing force.

The hall, golden and majestic, hummed with a power that was ancient, and merciless.

Some weaker men collapsed completely, pale faces frozen in terror, eyes wide with disbelief. Even the experienced generals gritted their teeth, trembling as they fought to stay upright.

"Activate the barrier!" a commander shouted, his voice cracking under strain.

Instantly, runes etched into the floor blazed to life. Silver light spread, wrapping the coalition soldiers in a shimmering dome of protection.

The oppressive weight eased just enough for them to draw a shaky breath, bodies trembling as relief washed over them.

But some needed no such aid.

At the front, Reynold, Lina, Princess Elize, and Ling Yan, stood perfectly still, unaffected by the crushing force. Their eyes were fixed on the far end of the golden hall.

There, beyond the countless gilded pillars, rose a grand staircase carved from pure crystal.

At its summit sat a throne forged from gold, black miasma intertwining through the runes that pulsed faintly.

And on that throne sat a figure.

A swirl of living darkness cloaked the being, twisting and writhing like smoke. From its form radiated the same crushing pressure that had pinned everyone to the ground.

Beside the throne stood another figure, tall, slender, almost ethereal. His hair fell like strands of violet silk, and his expression remained serene, elegant. Yet, beneath that calm, there was something unsettling.

Reynold's eyes widened.

"That man…" he whispered.

The face was familiar, he had seen it before, in the forest illusion, standing beside Silica. His heart quickened, a tremor running through him.

Slowly, he shifted his gaze to the throne.

The figure remained motionless, shrouded in black miasma, yet from the darkness came a fragile, almost imperceptible pull, a thread of recognition.

"Silica…" he breathed, barely audible.

A storm of emotions surged within him, hope, dread, disbelief, all colliding in a single, choking moment.

The hall, golden and suffocating, felt impossibly vast, yet all that mattered was the figure on the throne.

Before Reynold could take a step forward, a voice shattered the thick silence.

"My lord," came a trembling cry from the Durn ranks. "It is an honor to be gazed upon by your presence!"

The words rang through the vast golden hall, echoing like a hymn. A close commander of the prince had rose from his kneeling position, his arms wide in reverence to the figure above.

Seeing this, the coalition forces froze.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Did he just say lord?"

"They were indeed the traitors."

The kneeling army spoke again, voices rising in unison, full of feverish devotion.

"Glory to the Lord Azeroth!"

The miasma around the throne stirred faintly, like smoke roused by a breath. It rolled outward in slow waves, responding to their worship.

A suffocating stillness followed. The soldiers stood unmoving, their gazes locked on the golden throne.

They all understood this was no illusion. No lingering curse or phantom left behind by ruin. The being on the throne was real, alive, and the true master of this ruin.

The Durn soldiers had already sworn their souls to it.

A shiver passed through the coalition ranks. Faces hardened, yet fear lingered behind every pair of eyes. The realization struck deep, whatever stood before them was far beyond what any ruin expedition had ever faced.

"What should we do, Princess?" a Yan commander asked, his voice strained. "We can't stay here. This place… it feels like death itself."

Ling Yan's expression tightened. Calm by nature, her composure now wavered. Her gaze lifted toward the throne, where the black haze swirled like a storm, heavy and ancient. Even from afar, the oppressive aura pressed against her chest, forcing her breath shallow.

Behind her, soldiers shifted uneasily. They had fought powerful foes before, corrupted beasts, ancient guardians, even minor Ruin Lords. They had conquered ruins that would have broken lesser armies. But this was different.

The Ruin Lord's presence alone warped the air, made their hearts race and their minds sluggish. Every instinct screamed run.