Chapter 2507: Story 2508: The Fortress of Shadows

The morning sun disappeared behind a blanket of dark clouds as Victoria Kane and her companions left Raven’s Crossing behind.

The battle with the Hollow Guard had changed everything.

The black steel badge no longer felt like an ordinary relic. Fastened to Victoria’s belt, it pulsed with a steady warmth, almost as though it possessed a heartbeat of its own.

No one spoke for several miles.

Each rider remained lost in thought.

Cole Mercer finally broke the silence.

"If those were only four members of the Hollow Guard..."

He looked toward the distant mountains.

"...how many are waiting inside Blackstone Ridge?"

No one answered.

The question itself was terrifying.

By late afternoon, the mountains towered above them.

Blackstone Ridge rose from the desert like an enormous fortress carved by giants. Jagged cliffs surrounded walls of black granite, while ancient watchtowers overlooked every narrow path leading upward.

The place looked abandoned.

Yet Victoria couldn’t shake the feeling that thousands of unseen eyes were watching them.

Lucas Reed dismounted and examined the ground.

"Fresh tracks."

He brushed away loose dust.

"Several horses."

He paused.

"And wagon wheels."

Cole frowned.

"Someone reached the fortress before us."

Father Gabriel looked toward the towering gates.

"Or something."

As they climbed the winding mountain trail, strange statues appeared along both sides of the road.

Each depicted a heavily armored marshal standing beside a horse with one hand resting upon a sword.

Time had weathered the stone, but every statue carried the same black steel badge that now belonged to Victoria.

Dr. Evelyn Brooks carefully examined one of the monuments.

"These aren’t decorations."

Victoria looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

Evelyn pointed toward several deep scratches across the statue’s armor.

"They were built to honor real people."

"Every one of these marshals fought here."

Father Gabriel nodded solemnly.

"The Order of the Black Star."

"The defenders of humanity."

Lucas counted silently.

"There are twelve statues."

The old priest’s expression darkened.

"There were thirteen."

Everyone stopped.

"What happened to the last one?" Victoria asked.

Before Father Gabriel could answer, a cold wind swept across the mountain.

The badge at Victoria’s belt suddenly burned with intense heat.

A deep metallic grinding sound echoed through the valley.

Slowly...

One of the enormous fortress gates began opening by itself.

Darkness filled the passage beyond.

No guards appeared.

No voices called out.

Only silence welcomed them.

Cole raised his rifle.

"This feels like a trap."

Victoria nodded.

"But if we turn back now..."

"The Hollow King wins."

Midnight stepped forward without hesitation.

Almost as though the horse already knew the way.

The others followed.

Inside the fortress walls, they discovered a massive courtyard lined with abandoned barracks, broken cannons, and rusted wagons.

Ancient battle flags still fluttered from cracked towers despite the absence of wind.

Then Lucas noticed something strange.

"There are footprints."

Everyone looked down.

Fresh human footprints crossed the dusty courtyard.

Only one person.

The trail led toward the fortress chapel.

Victoria slowly pushed open its heavy wooden doors.

Inside, hundreds of candles burned brightly.

Someone had lit them only recently.

At the center of the chapel stood a lone figure wearing a weathered marshal’s coat.

His back faced the group.

Gray hair rested upon his shoulders.

One gloved hand gripped the hilt of an old sword planted firmly into the stone floor.

Without turning around, the stranger spoke in a calm, weary voice.

"I’ve been waiting for the next bearer of the badge."

Victoria instinctively reached for her revolver.

"Who are you?"

The old man slowly turned.

A long scar crossed his weathered face, but his piercing blue eyes remained sharp and alive.

He smiled faintly.

"My name..."

"...is Gideon Black."

Every heartbeat in the chapel seemed to stop.

The First Marshal—the legendary hero believed dead for more than a century—was standing before them.