"The room is entirely empty," Bayu announced, his boots clicking sharply against the polished marble as he advanced further into the vast expanse of the throne room. "There is no Sultan. There are no guards waiting in the shadows. We fought our way through half a burning city for a ghost ship.""Don't speak too soon," Alaric muttered, limping in from the heavy iron doorway with a crude bandage wrapped tightly around his thigh, his hand resting heavily on the pommel of his notched broadsword. "The air tastes like sulfur and old copper. Someone was sitting on that monstrosity of a seat not ten minutes ago."At the far end of the cavernous hall sat the throne—a colossal, jagged monstrosity welded together from scavenged tank plating, industrial rivets, and the petrified remnants of the region’s original energy conduits. It loomed over the room like an idol of a forgotten, brutalist god, its jagged edges catching the faint, flickering moonlight that poured through the shattered stained-gl

"Get back!" Bayu roared, his hand shooting out to shove Alaric’s shoulder hard enough to send the limping man stumbling backward across the marble floor."What are you—?" Alaric started, his face contorting in sudden anger as his boot slipped on the slick stone, but the rest of his words were instantly swallowed by a deafening, metallic shriek that echoed off the high vaulted ceiling.The massive, jagged throne—welded together from industrial rivets and the petrified remnants of the region’s original energy conduits—did not merely vibrate; it fractured down its central spine with a sound like a mountain splitting in half."The foundation is shearing!" Draven yelled over the deafening roar, planting his boots wide on the shifting floorboards as a cascade of mortar dust and pulverized stone rained down from the ceiling above. "The whole palace is coming down on our heads!""It’s not just the palace," Galang screamed, his voice cracking with panic as he scrambled backward on his hands an