Illegitimate Blood

The atmosphere in (the) room felt electric; as if Roy's words carried the weight of countless years steeped in blood and treachery. He spoke again, his tone incisive and unwavering: each sentence crafted with precision, slicing through heavy silence like a finely honed blade. "At that time, I wasn't the only one ascending," Roy began, his gaze unfocused (as if) navigating the tumult of his own history. "There were others—numerous others—brilliant, resourceful and far more skilled than I. However, the distinction between them and me was stark: they allowed emotions to steer their actions. I? I extinguished mine." He leaned in slightly, his voice growing more resolute. "While they faltered, deliberated over decisions, or clung to ethical principles, I did whatever was necessary to endure. I shattered every obstacle placed in my path. There was no boundary I wouldn't transgress, no deed I wouldn't undertake. This is what rendered me invincible."

Roy hesitated, allowing his words to hang in the atmosphere before continuing: "When I was sixteen, war erupted (between Narzan and Firhan)—a bloody, brutal conflict. Back then, our commanding general wasn't just competent; he was a nightmare. Cunning, ruthless and paranoid (he suspected me from the very beginning), he clung to me like a shadow, denying me any opportunity to act. No chance to leak the information I required. However, I wasn't one to sit idly by and wait. So, I killed him." Erika's eyes widened, her sharp gaze locking onto his. She didn't interrupt, but the tension in her posture conveyed volumes. "I poisoned his drink," Roy stated coldly, his expression lacking any trace of remorse. "Simple, efficient and untraceable. But killing him wasn't sufficient; I needed to make sure his death served a purpose. So, I created chaos. I spread misinformation, planted false orders and twisted the battlefield into a storm of confusion. The outcome? Narzan nearly lost the battle. Nearly. That's when I made my move. I stepped up, took command and transformed that chaos into victory. I led our army to triumph in the face of certain defeat."

Although, instead of rewards or recognition, I received nothing. Roy's smirk reemerged; however, it bore a bitter edge. The Supreme Commander and the rest of leadership were no fools (they recognized that something was amiss). Someone within the ranks—specifically, a second-grade officer—was leaking intelligence and sabotaging their efforts. Consequently, they froze all promotions. No one ascended in rank. Instead, they began to question us (interrogating every officer they could find). The walls were closing in (the odds were stacked against me). Roy reclined, his expression calm, yet his voice echoed with the gravity of his actions. But they never apprehended me—not once—because I obliterated every single piece of evidence that could implicate me. I covered my tracks so meticulously that even their paranoia couldn't reach me. While others panicked, made mistakes and exposed their vulnerabilities, I remained cold and calculated. This is how I survived. But now the odds turned against Miral. Erika shattered the silence; her voice sharp and demanding. However, the odds then turned against my father. Why? He had never lost a war before.

Roy's smirk vanished, yielding to a grim seriousness. "(Because) Narzan is not simply an empire; it acts as a breeding ground for treachery. The deeper we delved, the more resistance we faced. Narzan wasn't just clashing with us; they were embroiled in daily skirmishes against other rebel forces. They had wealth, resources and manpower in abundance. Miral, however, was bleeding. "Men were dying faster than we could replace them. Supplies dwindled. Each day, we lost ground, while Narzan barely flinched. And yet, Miral stayed steadfast. He didn't just endure—he adapted. He rose from pressures that could have shattered even the strongest of men." Erika's eyes narrowed, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "How did he recover?" Roy's lips curled into a small, terrifying smile, his gaze locked on her like a predator eyeing its prey. "How, you ask?" he murmured, his words laced with a sinister edge. "He didn't merely recover. He became the storm. He sacrificed everything—(alliances), honor, even his own people—to make sure Narzan bled as much as we did. He turned every loss into fuel, every setback into strategy."

"And the thing about Miral? He didn't merely fight to win; he fought to *obliterate*. To eradicate Narzan so completely that no one would ever dare to rise against him again." Erika's breath hitched (however), she steadied herself; her voice barely above a whisper. "And what about you? What did you do?" Roy's smile broadened (but) it failed to reach his eyes. "What I always do, Erika. I ensured the odds were in my favor. Always."

**To Be Continued...**