Chronicles of the Hidden Crown: The System's Gentle Tyrant-Chapter 80: The Tower’s Legacy: Gathering the Clues

The journey back to the surface was a somber one.

The heavy tome, now wrapped carefully in layers of sealing cloth and reinforced with protective spells, weighed far more than its size suggested. It hung at Kieran's side like a silent reminder of the knowledge—and danger—they now carried.

The Hidden Crown scouts maintained strict vigilance, but nothing emerged from the dark tunnels to follow them. Even the presence of the godslayer seemed to have receded, as if the being itself dared not step too close to the ancient structure hidden below.

When they finally emerged from the hidden passage, the first light of a pale dawn was breaking over the forest canopy, casting long, misty shadows. The air felt... thinner somehow, as if the world above was untouched by the oppressive weight that hung over the hidden tower.

The group paused, breathing in the cool, fresh air, each of them silently grappling with what they had seen.

Kieran stood quietly for a long moment, feeling the subtle thrum of the tome through his protective barriers.He could sense it—faintly—calling out across invisible threads.

Calling to others.

They relocated swiftly to a secure outpost established nearby, one of the many hidden bases of the Crown's expanding network. It was nothing more than a collection of shadowed structures half-buried into the landscape—designed to be unseen unless one already knew exactly where to look.

Inside the stone hall that served as their temporary headquarters, Kieran gathered the fifteen Crowns and the thirty Shadow Commanders. A muted fire crackled in the hearth, casting the room in a low amber glow.

The tome rested atop a heavy obsidian table, placed at the center like a king's crown on a sacrificial altar.

Riven, the First Crown and head of Intelligence, was the first to speak.Her voice was low, carefully controlled. "It feels like it's breathing."

A handful of nods answered her. Even among the elite, the aura of the tome was undeniable—ancient, heavy, and somehow still alive.

"We can't keep it here," said Sylveria, the Ninth Crown, head of Subterfuge. "Not without drawing attention. Its... signature is too loud."

Kieran tapped a finger thoughtfully against the obsidian surface."We won't. This is only temporary."

He shifted his gaze across the assembled elite.Their faces were calm, composed—but beneath the surface, he could see the tension, the raw anticipation.

This was different from their previous operations.This was something primal.

"Prepare three vaults," Kieran instructed. "One for study. One for containment. One... as a trap."

At that, several of the Crowns smiled grimly.They understood immediately.

If the tome called to dark forces, then they would use that lure strategically.Let the cults come sniffing.Let them think they had a chance.

And then strike them down.

Kieran moved closer to the book. The glyphs he had glimpsed earlier still burned behind his closed eyelids, as though branded onto his mind.

The Silent Watchers.The Remnants.The Cursed Ones.

Terms from an age long buried.Terms that the modern world had conveniently forgotten—or perhaps had been made to forget.

He touched the sealing cloth lightly.

"We will uncover what they buried," Kieran murmured. His voice was soft, but it carried to every ear in the room. "We will drag the hidden truths into the light."

The room seemed to pulse with a silent oath, unspoken but felt by all.

Later That Night

When the base had quieted and the shifting of patrols faded into the background, Kieran retired to a private chamber.

The tome sat before him, now layered with eight different wards.Each ward was etched with sigils learned from forgotten sources—meant to contain, distort, and obscure.

And yet, even behind those layers, Kieran could feel it watching.

He flipped the book open carefully, using a gloved hand wrapped in runic inscriptions.

This time, the pages turned without resistance.

More lines, more hidden histories unfurled themselves:

"In the twilight of the Old World, the Betrayers sang the Song of Unmaking. Towers fell. Oceans boiled. Those who remained wept blood and built prisons for the broken gods."

"The Silent Watchers were born to guard the locks. But they too were cursed—tainted by proximity to that which should not be."

"Seek the Towers of Dusk, where the Threads converge."

"Only there can the Second Seal be found."

The Towers of Dusk.

Kieran sat back, eyes narrowing slightly.

More towers. More remnants of the ancient war.And seals—multiple.

He could feel it: a massive, interwoven system of bindings.The gods—or entities—of the previous world had not merely been slain.They had been sealed.

Piece by piece.Layer upon layer.

And now, something—or someone—was working to undo those seals.

Perhaps without fully understanding what would be unleashed.

Kieran closed the book with a decisive snap.

The Hidden Crown had expanded quietly across the kingdom, gathering strength.They had infiltrated noble houses, academies, merchant guilds, and even underground syndicates.

But if what the tome suggested was true...

They would need more.

More scouts.More scholars.More weapons that could contend with forces that were never meant to exist.

He would have to prepare operations far beyond what the Crown had ever undertaken.

An entire sub-network dedicated solely to unearthing ancient knowledge—and sealing it again.

And he would need to find the next tower—the Tower of Dusk.

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Somewhere, hidden in the folds of the world, it waited.

And the race to reach it had already begun.