The skull's jaw splits wide — a voice rises from nowhere, older than stone: 'You have come far, ember-carrier. But the ember was never yours to hold.' The floor fractures beneath your feet. From the shattered throne-pit, THE BLACK KING ascends — bone fused with cinder, three times the height of any man, crowned in ash. **Combat.** The The Black King is on you — 4766 HP. Take your stance.