The air shifted.
It wasn't just tension. It was heavier than that—like reality itself had grown brittle, strained by the collision of two forces that were never meant to meet. Ezra stood at the apex of a rooftop-turned-battlement, surrounded by the crumbling shell of a tenement building. Below him, the Hollowbound approached—an army of undead with no leash, no summoner, and no allegiance.
They had risen willingly.
And they had chosen him.
Kael steadied her breathing, the weight of her shotgun resting against her shoulder as she eyed the oncoming tide.
Vesper dropped to one knee in prayer, not for victory—but for balance, for the laws of life and death not to be torn apart by what was coming.
Galen fed fresh power cells into the defensive turrets they'd salvaged. His hands trembled, but his jaw was locked tight. "This… this wasn't supposed to happen until a Rift Lord showed up."
Ezra stepped forward.
The first Hollowbound reached the base of the building. Seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, armored in jagged bone and corroded iron. Its mask—if it could even be called that—resembled the warped scream of a soul mid-torment, locked forever in place. Empty eye sockets stared up at him.
And then it knelt.
Kael made a sound halfway between a gasp and a curse. "No. No, no—Ezra, that thing just—"
Ezra didn't move. His pulse thundered in his ears.
Another followed suit. Then another.
Ten. Twenty.
Fifty.
One by one, the Hollowbound knelt before him. Not like slaves. Not like mindless zombies. Like warriors before a sovereign.
Galen stepped beside him, voice hushed. "This… This is a coronation."
"No," Vesper said from behind, her voice shaking. "This is a test."
[System Alert]⟢ Trial of the Hollow Sovereign Initiated⟢ You are being judged by the Bound Ones—undead who rejected servitude to forge their own will.⟢ Only one may stand at the top of the Hollow Path.⟢ Prove yourself… or be devoured.
⟢ Conditions:
Survive the Rite.
Assert Dominion.
Break no Commandment of the Hollow.
Time Limit: 10 minutes.
From the back of the procession, one Hollowbound broke ranks.
It didn't walk—it glided. Limbs dragging like chains made of rot. Black tendrils of corrupted mana pulsed in and out of its ribcage where a heart once beat. Its skull bore a golden brand—one Ezra didn't recognize but felt deep in his marrow.
This one wasn't just risen.
It was ascended.
[System Notice]⟢ Hollow Knight: Varuun, Herald of the Broken Oath⟢ Rank: B⟢ Threat Level: Critical⟢ Authority: Greater Than Yours
Kael's shotgun cocked. "So… that thing's gonna try to kill you, right?"
Ezra nodded slowly. "Not just try. It's going to show the others what happens when a pretender wears a crown."
"And what if you lose?"
Ezra exhaled.
"Then this city gets a new death king."
Varuun didn't speak.
It roared.
A soul-deep, scraping-throat kind of sound, like rage clawing its way up from a forgotten grave.
The Hollowbound around them scattered, forming a ring of ash and silence. A dueling ground.
Ezra stepped into the circle, his summoned undead lingering at the edge, unsure if they were permitted to join.
"No interference," Vesper warned. "This is ritual combat. To aid him would dishonor the trial. They'll all turn on us."
Kael clenched her fists. "He's not ready."
"He has to be," Galen murmured. "Or this is the end."
Varuun charged first—blazing fast, a blur of jagged limbs and rusted blades. Ezra barely raised his arms before the first blow landed, sending him skidding back across the rooftop.
[Warning: Fractured Rib -20 HP][Passive Regeneration Activated]
Ezra's vision blurred. His necrotic energy surged to stabilize the wound, but the Hollow Knight didn't give him time. The next strike came from above—an axe cleaving through the air, heavier than steel, hungrier than fire.
Ezra dodged, barely.
The axe carved a crater into the roof, splintering the floor beneath.
"Can't outpower it," he growled.
Then he remembered something Echo had once said:
"Strength is more than muscle. It's control."
Ezra slammed his palm to the ground.
"Gravebind!"
Chains of bone burst from the rooftop, wrapping around Varuun's legs. The knight snarled, tearing through two, but the moment of pause was enough.
Ezra surged forward—fist wreathed in pulsing black flame—and struck.
[Skill: Necrofist] – Critical Impact![Varuun's Health: -12%]
Not enough.
Varuun countered.
The axe came up in a backhand sweep, catching Ezra's shoulder and tearing flesh.
[Warning: Deep Tissue Damage -35 HP]
Blood hit the air.
Ezra dropped, rolled, came up coughing.
"You're still too alive," Varuun's voice rasped for the first time—cracked and dry, like rust on bone. "You haven't bled enough to wear the crown."
Ezra's reply was silence.
And then—
He ripped off his own shirt.
Revealing the Hollowborn Mark pulsing across his chest, now jagged with cracks like a molten fracture. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Only that his body knew.
He dipped into it.
Let the darkness flood him—not like poison, but like promise.
Not control.
Bond.
He raised both hands and whispered:
"Come, all ye forgotten."
From the streets below, shadows surged.
Dozens.
No… hundreds.
Every undead he had ever touched—raised, buried, or even grazed with his aura—rose.
They didn't cross the ring. They didn't interfere.
They knelt.
Watching.
Waiting.
Ezra rose, eyes glowing pale silver, streaked with voidfire.
He charged again—this time not alone, not backed by force—but by will. His blow met Varuun's with equal weight. Sparks flew.
Ezra roared, "I am not your king."
He pivoted, ducked a blade, and slammed his knee into Varuun's core. Bones cracked. Dark ichor splattered.
"I'm your heir."
Another blow—this one with both fists.
"And your executioner."
He spun, channeled everything, and roared—
"END!"
His hand plunged into Varuun's chest.
And pulled out the Hollow Knight's soul core—a dense, flickering mass of memories, hate, and old grief.
Varuun collapsed, armor rattling.
The rooftop fell silent.
Ezra held the core aloft.
And every Hollowbound in the ring slammed their fists to the ground in unison.
A sign of fealty.
[System Alert]⟢ Trial Complete.⟢ You are now the recognized leader of the Free Hollowbound.⟢ Title Earned: "Grave Sovereign"⟢ Passive Unlocked: Dead Do Not Disobey⟢ Authority Upgrade: Rank D → Rank C
[Warning: Unknown Watchers Have Taken Notice.]
Ezra stood, chest heaving, body torn.
But he had won.
Not by dominance.
Not by fear.
By resonance.
Kael ran to his side, catching him as his knees buckled. "Jesus, Ez. You okay?"
Ezra grinned faintly. "Never better."
Vesper approached, her voice cautious. "You realize what you've done, don't you?"
He nodded.
"I'm not a summoner anymore."
He looked out over the ruined skyline, where the Hollowbound now stood silently at attention.
"I'm a general."
Far above, in a place unseen by mortal eyes, a council convened.
Ethereal beings, cloaked in veils of starlight and smoke, whispered.
"The Hollowborn has claimed Dominion."
"Too soon. The balance is not ready."
"Then tip it. Unleash the next Gate."
"And what of the child?"
A pause.
Then a cruel whisper.
"Let him believe he's free… before we show him what it costs."