Newfear

Frostnov – Early Morning in the Palace.

The atmosphere was as heavy as a nightmare, the air thick with an eerie silence. At a grand dining table, Duke Lucas ate his dinner in solitude, while Aqua sat across from him, staring at his food without appetite. The clinking of utensils against plates filled the room, breaking the silence in a tragic rhythm, yet no one seemed to care. Everything felt weighty, even the air itself.

After minutes of tense quiet, Aqua let out a slow sigh, as if trying to rid himself of a burden pressing against his chest. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, searching for the right words to express what was inside him.

Aqua: "I will participate in the battle of..."

Lucas, his face rigid and his eyes sharp, as if bracing for an explosion, suddenly cut him off with a firm voice and an unyielding gaze.

Lucas: "You will not participate in anything."

Before Aqua could finish, Lucas's words had already shut the path before him. He remained silent for a moment, trying to steady his breath amidst the turmoil boiling inside him.

Lucas, continuing: "You will stay here and come with me to Dreamcrown tomorrow."

Aqua stared at Lucas with piercing eyes, as if he wanted to drop a bomb from his heart. His teeth clenched tightly, but his restraint was on the verge of collapse.

Aqua, his voice sharp and resolute, as if rejecting an imposed reality: "I will not."

Lucas's hands trembled with anger. He slammed his fist onto the table with such force that the sound echoed through the hall, his eyes flashing with fury. Every word that left his mouth felt like a blade cutting into himself.

Lucas, his tone tense, conflicting emotions raging in his heart: "You will not step a foot outside this palace today, do you hear me?!"

A heavy silence followed. His gaze swallowed the room, as if words alone could not capture the void he felt within.

Lucas: "Not a day has gone since Duchess Sabrina's death… One day, and yet you do not care! Instead of staying by her son's side, or fulfilling the duties the king assigned to you, you choose to fight in wars that do not concern you!"

But he did not stop. Lucas's words quickened, colliding in his mouth, spilling out irrationally, as if every moment of pain and weakness he had ever endured was now overflowing.

Lucas: "You fight in battles that are not yours, kill and get killed without meaning, at a time when you should be here, holding on to the ground that was destroyed beneath our feet! Instead… you refuse to face the truth. The truth we are trapped in!"

His veins bulged, his face burned with rage, but at the same time, there was something deeper... something shattered inside him. It was as if his inner wounds had been ripped open, his words a desperate reflection of his obsession and disarray, as if he were speaking to himself more than anyone else.

Aqua, his voice filled with fury and pain, his words crashing against Lucas like a shout: "It is a war for someone I know… Do you understand? Someone close to me! Something beyond blind loyalty! As for the duty you speak of, what do you even mean by that? Do you expect me to stand around watching that king all the time? To endure the nonsense and conspiracies that unfold there constantly? Or should I go and care for those lands suffering in silence after you all abandoned them!?"

Aqua stood up, his voice trembling, his eyes burning with an untamed fire.

Aqua: "Do you think I was born just to be here? To stay, hopeless, while the world around us burns? No. I will not sit idly by, listening to the tales of those scum who do nothing but fight each other in childish knightly duels! Or attend parties and drink tea as if we were women in a pleasure house!"

Aqua exhaled harshly, a desperate attempt to break the invisible chains he felt closing around him in the palace.

Aqua: "I am a knight, and I will live as one!"

Lucas looked at Aqua, his eyes shrouded in exhaustion. He could no longer put into words the frustration he felt toward him, but still, he clenched his fist, unable to ignore him.

Lucas: "Do you think you are above death?! Do you think you can fight without thought, without logic? You throw yourself into battles, killing people you don't even know, all for your reckless thrill that leads nowhere! Meanwhile, the ones who started these wars, the ones who destroyed everything, sit comfortably in their high seats, watching as if it were an entertaining show! While we, at the bottom, drown in blood and suffering!"

Lucas took a deep breath before continuing, his voice now quieter but sharper.

Lucas: "A knight is not just a tool for battle. A knight protects his kingdom, cares for it... he does not abandon it for his selfish desires. If you truly wish to be a knight, then start by learning the meaning of true protection!"

But Aqua, his heart bursting from within, suddenly answered with words heavier than a sword strike.

Aqua: "I thought you understood me last time. But it seems I will remain imprisoned here like a captive… all because of your turmoil and obsession after you caused the death of our family."

A long silence followed, heavy like a storm looming over the sky before it collapses. The silence itself was louder than any words, tightening the nerves and pressing against the breath. Even the glass cup Lucas was holding seemed to mirror the tremors inside him, shaking in his grip in a deafening stillness, as if it, too, could feel what was cracking deep within him.

Then, in an unexpected moment, the silence shattered with a sharp whistle, followed by the horrifying sound of the glass breaking in his hand. The sound was like a muffled scream, as if the cup itself had cried out in agony.

His hands trembled violently as red wine spilled over his fingers, mixing with the blood dripping from his wound. The crimson liquid pooled between his palms, a fusion of wine and blood, embodying the wreckage inside him.

Lucas, his face darkened beyond human expression, spoke firmly as he locked eyes with Aqua.

Lucas: "Leave."

Aqua, feeling the sting of Lucas's words, blinked before abruptly standing up. His footsteps were loud, each one echoing his suffering, reverberating through the empty hall. Meanwhile, Lucas remained seated, his face drowned in shadow, staring into the void as if something far greater than words was consuming him. The shattered glass lay scattered around him like fragments of his broken self, while the wine mixed with blood seeped onto the floor, telling a story unfinished... a tale woven from betrayal, grief, and buried rage.

Aqua stormed out of the palace, mounted his horse swiftly, barely aware of his surroundings. His heart pounded faster than his senses, lost in the chaos within him. The palace shrank behind him, the sound of his horse's hooves rising and falling in sharp, rhythmic beats, as if carving a path toward something unknown... something that drove him forward with all his might, even as the very road itself seemed to be what he was running from.

As his horse galloped through the darkened path leading to Dreamcrown, Aqua's thoughts raced. Lucas's deep, furious voice still rang in his head, as if the man himself was chasing him. But at that moment, Aqua wasn't just fleeing from Lucas... he was escaping from himself, from the suffocating weight pressing against his chest.

When he reached the end of the road, Dreamcrown loomed before him... the royal capital, a city sprawling across the land, swallowed by the towering mountains that surrounded it like the walls of a massive prison. Its buildings stood tightly packed, sculpted from the same stone, and its golden domes reflected the sunlight, appearing like an untouchable dream. Its royal palace was like a blade thrust into the heart of the world, watching over all beneath it with an unblinking eye.

But Aqua wasn't concerned with Dreamcrown at that moment. His focus was on another road... the path leading not to glory or grandeur, but to something far closer to the raw, unvarnished truth.

Turn onto the opposite slope, where rugged land stretched over the hills, far from the luxury of the capital, separated by kilometers from Dreamcrown, yet seemingly in an entirely different world. He mounted his horse and galloped down the road, dust swirling around him like hungry phantoms. With each step, he drew closer to a truth that everyone else averted their eyes from.

Land of Arkith – In the heart of the town.

There were no golden domes here, no streets paved with carved stones... only dilapidated buildings, their walls cracked as if they bore the same pain that resided in the bodies of those who lived within them. The air was heavier, saturated with the scent of mildew, sweat, and poverty.

On either side of the road, elderly men sat on the sidewalks, their faces etched with wrinkles not just from the passage of time but from hunger, oppression, and the long wait for a hope that never arrived. Women with empty eyes spread out tattered cloths displaying goods barely fit for sale, while children, dressed in rags, darted through the crowds... some selling hardened bread, others stretching out their hands to ask for what would never be given to them.

Rickety wooden carts lined every corner, piled with rotting fruit, meat beginning to decay, and bread that the rats had nibbled before the humans could. An old man stood before a rusted cart, attempting to sell bottles filled with a mysterious liquid, speaking fervently to a hesitant customer, promising that "just one drop will make you forget your pain!."

Aqua continued forward, gripping his horse's reins, his eyes scanning the scene... not surprised, yet feeling something heavier than the putrid stench in the air. It wasn't visible, but it seeped into every corner, into every breath the people here took.

Aqua, In his mind : "[Not everyone is born on the same side of the river… Some are born where light flows, where tales of justice and opportunity are told, where life seems to follow logical rules. But others are born in the shadows, where justice is merely an idea sold in markets, and opportunities only come to those born on the other side.]"

Aqua loosened his grip slightly on the reins, slowing his pace. His gaze moved between faces, between bodies bent under the weight of life, between eyes that held no sparkle except the reflection of hunger and fear.

He passed by a woman sitting on the ground, cradling her sleeping child against her chest, her arms wrapped around him like a fragile shield against a merciless world.

On the other side, a teenage boy was watching him with keen, alert eyes, as if searching for an opportunity... a moment of carelessness to snatch something, anything. Aqua didn't need to think long to understand that the boy wasn't a thief by nature, but by hunger, by despair, by the need to be a predator in a world that devours those who aren't.

He looked ahead again, exhaling softly, as if the air, thick with decay and disappointment, had left a mark in his lungs.

Aqua: "[People are not born good or evil. The place they are born into is the first mold that shapes their fate. Some are given the choice to be good or bad, while others… are given only one option: survival, at any cost.]"

Aqua fell silent for a moment, observing children fighting over a moldy piece of bread, and men staring into the void as if waiting for something that would never come. Then, barely audible, he murmured.

Aqua: "In this world, power does not come from being right, but from the ability to enforce it… And those without power aren't even allowed to ask why."

Amid the town's crumbling shadows, where souls were heavier than bodies and the air carried the scent of hunger and broken spirits, Aqua continued forward in silence.

Suddenly, he felt a body collapse against him. He turned swiftly to find an elderly woman staggering toward him, her eyes sunken into dark circles, as if life had drained her to the last drop. She clung to his left arm, her grip weak but desperate... like a drowning person who had found a piece of driftwood.

In her other arm, she held an infant, its frail body resting against her trembling chest, wrapped in a ragged cloth barely enough to protect it from the biting cold. Around her neck, a clear tattoo bore the number "57."

In a trembling voice, she whispered: "Help me… anything, anything, my lord."

Aqua looked at her in silence, then at the infant in her arms. For a moment, he wasn't sure which of them was closer to death... the woman or the child.

He frowned slightly, then reached into his pocket, pulling out two gold coins. He extended them toward her. The moment the coins touched her skeletal palm, she snatched them quickly, as if fearing he might change his mind, then began muttering words of gratitude.

Aqua watched her for a moment before speaking, his tone quiet but sharp: "Next time, keep your child at home… This cold will kill him before you gather enough to feed him."

The woman froze for a second, then slowly turned to him. Her lost eyes filled with something akin to confusion… or perhaps a flicker of acknowledgment she hadn't meant to reveal. Her face paled, as if his words had awakened something that should have remained unseen.

In a hushed, barely audible voice, she whispered: "He's not my child."

She said it… then turned away, disappearing into a side alley, her steps heavier than before.

Aqua's expression remained still for a moment, as if time had frozen at her words. One of his eyebrows twitched slightly, and his gaze dropped back to the infant wrapped in its tattered cloth. There was no clear emotion on his face, but the subtle tension at the corner of his mouth and the slight tightening of his eyelids betrayed something deeper…

He remained silent, watching as she vanished into the darkness.

Then, from the same darkness, a figure emerged... a man wrapped in a black cloak, his face hidden behind a dark scarf. But he didn't need to reveal his features for Aqua to know what he was. The aura alone was enough.

He stopped before the old woman and, without hesitation, shoved her hard against the wall. Her frail body struck the cold stone, but she didn't scream... just let out a faint gasp, as if pain was no longer something worth reacting to.

In a voice as sharp as a blade, the man spoke: "What did you get, Fifty-Seven? You haven't completed the task yet."

The woman frowned slightly, then, with trembling hands, reached into her ragged clothing and pulled out the two gold coins. She held them out silently, as if she had known this was how it would end all along.

The man took the money slowly, a stiff smile forming on his face. Then he suddenly turned.

His gaze locked onto Aqua... who was still standing there, watching the scene, his eyes as cold as midwinter frost.

The man stared at him for a moment, then, in a sharp tone, barked: "Hah!? What are you looking at, stranger?!"

Aqua didn't respond. He only stared for a few seconds longer before exhaling softly. Then, without a word, he tightened his grip on his horse's reins, turned away, and continued on his path... leaving yet another alley to swallow another soul… just as it had thousands of times before.

As he made his way through the city, misery clung to him like a heavy shadow that refused to part. Drunken men lay sprawled on the ground... one flat on his back, his vacant eyes fixed on the dark sky as if awaiting an answer that had never been given, or perhaps uncertain whether he had even asked the question. Another sat trembling with broken laughter, staring at an old wall, whispering to it as if recounting his life story to something incapable of listening.

Every corner told a story, and every story was the same... an endless cycle of hunger, collapse, and desperate attempts to escape reality by any means, even if it meant drowning in a bottle of cheap liquor or inhaling a deadly powder.

At last, Aqua stopped at an open square where a crowd had gathered around a ragged-looking man standing atop a wooden crate, his voice raw with fervor. "They deceived us! They lied when they said we were part of the kingdom! We are part of nothing! We live here only because they need someone at the bottom so they can stay at the top!"

Amid the murmurs of the crowd, another man stepped forward... one who seemed to be in much better condition. He was dressed in ornate fabric, exuding the scent of a more privileged life. His appearance carried an air of elegance reminiscent of Dreamcrown's citizens... he seemed to belong entirely to the upper class. Perhaps he was a merchant, or a traveler who had found himself in the midst of this simmering outrage. His voice was sharp as he spoke. "Ungrateful wretch! A hybrid Miravine speaking of his masters in their own tongue! Do you have no pride?"

The crowd tightened around them, faces shifting between anger, apprehension, and curiosity. Some watched in silence, while others exchanged knowing glances, as if they had seen this scene before... again and again, in different forms, but with the same core.

The first man took a step forward, his body taut, his words dripping with scorn. "Their tongue? This is the language of the former empire, Miravin! What right do you have to claim it as your own? … And I am no hybrid, you fool! My Miravine blood runs pure through the veins of my ancestors who lived here long before you!"

The second man did not retreat. Instead, he stepped closer, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, his tone thick with contempt. "Your blood is anything but pure. The truth remains... you only claim Miravine heritage because you resent us. Because we surpass you. We Arcadians were the first to inhabit Miravin! We built it! Our lands birthed this language, this culture. Without us, your countries wouldn't even exist! You're nothing more than parasites clinging to a legacy that isn't yours!"

Silence fell, but it was not a peaceful silence... it was a smoldering ember beneath the ashes. Eyes watched, breaths grew heavy, heartbeats quickened. In the corners, some nodded in agreement, while others crossed their arms in quiet defiance.

Then, in a voice low yet sharp as a blade, the first man answered. "How pitiful… to think that glory can be hoarded like an inheritance, as if simply being born on a land makes one its master. If Paladius truly belonged to you, why did it fall? Why didn't you protect it? Or were you nothing more than illusions believing themselves to be pillars, only to crumble when the roof collapsed!?"

The tension in the air grew unbearable, time itself seeming to freeze. The second man stood rigid, his eyes blazing with fury, his words spilling like venom. "You ungrateful bastard! … Our ancestors gave this nation its worth! They suffered under the likes of you! No wonder the empire collapsed once it was tainted by your kind!"

His voice dripped with disdain, each word a dagger stabbing into the heart of past generations. But beneath the rage, something deeper stirred... a spark, like a fuse lit in the dark.

The first man met his gaze with a piercing stare, unmoving. The last words hung in the air like an echo, their meaning muddled by the clamor in his mind. His reply came, quiet yet carrying the weight of a storm. "If your greatness drives you to denial and the hoarding of what is right, then know this... empires are not built on arrogance alone. There is something else, something your towering walls cannot block from view."

The second man took another step forward, his movements heavy, wavering between determination and doubt. Their words clashed like swords, carving into the depths of convictions once held as sacred.

Then, sudden laughter rang out... loud, mocking. A group of men nearby burst into fits of ridicule, their jeering voices carried by the wind like a cruel jest. One of them, seemingly the leader, gestured toward the second man with a smirk. "Oh! Now I remember! Aren't these the very same people known for their honor, their virtue, their chivalry? Look at him now, belittling you, spitting on you... even though you're supposed to be one people!"

The words were oil to fire. The first man erupted in fury, as if scalded by the flames of hell itself. His eyes blazed, his lips moved in muttered words too quiet to hear, but their weight pressed upon all who listened. "That's right!!" He fell silent for a heartbeat, then his voice rose, sharper than before. "Is this what our nation has become? A legend of honor and virtue trampled beneath our feet?"

His voice was a storm brewing, his expression as though he bore the weight of a mountain on his chest.

And then... everything vanished. Only tension remained, thick in the air. The second man stood frozen, eyes locked onto the first, hand brushing the hilt of his sword as he measured the moment with caution. But the fury had reached its peak, and in an instant, both men drew their blades in a single fluid motion.

They clashed with unbridled wrath, steel meeting steel in a silence more deafening than any scream.

Sparks erupted as metal clashed, the ringing of swords cutting through the night. Blood sprayed the ground like withering petals, like rain falling in quiet sorrow. But this was more than mere wounds... this was a message, written in the blood of the past upon the face of the present. A message that words alone could never inscribe, a message etched in the battle that never ends.

To Aqua, the sight before him was a nightmare given form... a blood-soaked struggle without end. Laughter still rang from the sidelines, crude and careless, as the two men fought for their lives. The air was thick with rage, and yet, the laughter only grew louder, as if something in them delighted in the ruin. They laughed at the depth of betrayal, at the absurdity of it all, mocking everything sacred and true.

One of the men, leaning against the wall, watched the scene with evident amusement. His eyes followed the blood splattering and the tears sinking into the ground, meaningless in his gaze. Then, he let out a mocking laugh and turned to the man in the center.

"Look at what you've done, 'Antef'. They're going to kill each other because of you."

The response came swiftly from Antef, who held his drink, his laughter spilling into the air with every sip he took.

"Damn, I was looking forward to seeing how this show ends. But we should leave before the royal guards arrive. Come on, men, let's rest and get some sleep. We have a long journey ahead tomorrow before we return home to Atheria."

The men rose slowly. One of them gently picked up his glass, then raised it in the air as a signal for his companions to follow suit. They walked away while blood continued to seep into the ground, bleeding in silence.

They left behind the place where souls clashed in their deadly struggle.

At that moment, Aqua stood there, his eyes filled with bitterness and rage. He watched what was happening before him as if something heavy was pressing against his chest, trapping him in a dark corner. His heart could barely endure witnessing such brutal conflict, yet he observed it in silence, as though he were contemplating this indifferent behavior in the face of such horror.

He had come here carrying a burden in his heart, the weight of the world on his shoulders. But now, in the midst of this nightmare, he felt as if he had swallowed that burden, keeping it within himself like a heavy stone.

Everything around him was shrouded in darkness, as if the entire city was ensnared in the grip of cruelty. These men, laughing at the blood of others, mocking their suffering, saw nothing of the world but their own towering shadows. They were oblivious to the division that fed them and unaware that they themselves were part of the endless, vicious cycle.

As the men walked away from the scene, Aqua remained where he stood, unable to move forward or turn back. Something in his heart screamed, something refused to believe that this was reality. But deep within his soul, he knew that this was the world he lived in... one he was a part of.

The voices of the two men grew louder, but they were not the only ones speaking. All around, there were whispers, shouts, cries. Someone selling the last thing they owned, another stealing just to survive another day.

That was when Aqua realized the truth...

Arcadia did not have one capital, but two.

One wore a golden crown, and the other had a noose wrapped around its neck.

Moments from now, inside a dueling arena run by House Blackmirth.

He arrived at the dueling arena in Arkith within minutes, where the ground pulsed with the sound of metal clashing against iron, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood. The place was packed, though it seemed devoid of anything other than the tense energy of the warriors filling the air.

Aqua walked directly toward the organizer, who stood beside the arena, watching the matches with eager anticipation. As he approached, Aqua pulled a gold coin from his pocket and handed it over.

Aqua: "I want to participate in the duels."

He spoke in a serious tone, his eyes burning with a desire even he did not fully understand. The organizer studied him for a moment, focusing on his features. Despite the hood covering his head, there was something strange about him... something in his gaze, in the way he breathed.

Then, Aqua turned quickly, as if to avoid recognition.

But suddenly, a voice cut through the air.

"You're Ice death?!" the organizer blurted out in shock.

Aqua froze for a moment, biting his lip in barely contained fury, before swiftly placing a hand over the man's mouth, stifling the cry that threatened to escape.

Aqua: "Don't say that to anyone!"

His voice was dangerously low. Then, he pulled out another gold coin and handed it to the man.

The organizer nodded silently, his eyes filled with astonishment.

"Yes, yes, of course. We wouldn't want one of our fighters backing out… hahaha, right?!" he whispered before quickly diverting attention away.

Aqua hurried away without looking back.

Now, he was at the heart of the dueling pit, where human beasts clashed. His eyes widened... not in fear, but in anticipation and hunger.

All he wanted now was to prove something to himself. Something that could only be understood in the midst of battle.

He drew his sword from its sheath with a steady hand and exhaled deeply, his gaze locking onto the arena before him... where the only thing that mattered awaited.

Dreamcrown – One day Later, in the Throne Hall.

The royal hall was crowded with nobles and lords, all gathered to witness a pivotal moment... the coronation of the new king.

The air was heavy. The room was filled with scattered whispers and the distant clinking of cups being lifted. The palace was alive with movement, yet beneath its grand decorations, an unseen tension lingered.

In a private dressing chamber, Lucas stood before the mirror, adorned in royal attire. His garments were exquisite, yet they felt like chains weighing him down. He took a deep breath... this was his grand day. And yet, something unspoken pressed against his chest, an eerie weight he couldn't shake.

On the upper floor of the royal palace, a long corridor stretched toward the throne hall, like the gaping maw of a beast ready to devour its king. The slow, deliberate steps of King Irvin echoed through the silent hallway, each tap of his cane resounding like the dying heartbeat of a fading monarch.

He did not walk with the confidence of a young king ruling his realm, but with the weariness of an old man dragging himself to his grave. The air around him felt heavier, the walls seemed to pull the breath from his lungs.

And then… the voice came.

"You know, Your Majesty? Some kingdoms fall with screams… others crumble in silence. But for you… I have chosen the gentlest end."

Irvin stopped. He did not turn. He did not breathe for a moment. Then, in a hushed voice, burdened with years of fatigue, he spoke.

Irvin: "I knew you would come… but you took longer than I expected, Blatir."

From behind him, a shadow detached itself from reality, as if the hallway had swallowed the light to craft this moment. Blatir Vanheim emerged, his face devoid of emotion, his eyes empty... void of anything human.

Blatir: "If you knew… why didn't you run? Or at least prepare a worthy guard?"

The king smiled, but his lips trembled, as if his laughter had betrayed him before his body ever could.

Irvin: "Why should I?... Death is not the worst fate a man can suffer.

But in the end, There is no human who can protect you, when your hunter is Blatir Vanheim."

Blatir raised an eyebrow slightly, then slowly drew his sword. The sound was not merely the ringing of steel... it was as if the entire corridor gasped in terror.

Blatir: "Don't worry, Your Majesty… No one dies in the moment of the stab… True death comes when your name is forgotten. And that… I will ensure for you."

Then, without hesitation, the blade sank into his back.

The king's body convulsed. The air fled his lungs before he could even scream. His eyes widened in a silent shock, and warm, treacherous blood spread beneath his royal robes.

He tried to turn, and barely... just barely... he saw Blatir.

But… the face he saw was not the one he knew.

Blatir's eyes were no longer hollow. They were wide... wild... glowing with an eerie light. As if something inside him had shattered beyond repair. The corners of his lips curled upward, forming a smile that was not entirely human... a terrifying blend of mockery, ecstasy, and pure, unfiltered malice.

Then… he began to laugh.

At first, it was soft, fragmented, as if it wasn't meant to escape. But he couldn't stop. It grew, rising higher and higher, turning into a hysterical, unhinged laughter that echoed through the empty hallway... as if the very walls had joined in his madness.

He raised his bloodstained hand, staring at it for a moment. Then, he ran his fingers across his face, smearing a crimson streak upon his skin.

Blatir: "Do you see this, Your Majesty?"

He lifted his hands before his eyes, his fingers trembling with exhilaration.

Blatir: "I feel it… I feel everything! This… this is the true pulse of life!"

He knelt beside the lifeless body, grasping the king's tilted head, staring into his vacant, glassy eyes. And in a hushed whisper, as if sharing a sacred secret, he spoke:

Blatir: "I did not kill you because I hated you… nor did I kill you because I desired the throne. After all, you are no longer a king now…

No, no, no…"

He leaned closer, his smile stretching into something monstrous, as if his very skin could no longer contain his exhilaration.

Blatir: "I killed you… because I could."

Then, as if nothing had happened, he rose, wiped the blood from his lips with his thumb, turned, and strode down the hallway... leaving behind a lifeless body… and a world that had yet to realize… that the devil had been set free.

Below, the royal hall was filled with life. Laughter echoed, cups were raised in toasts to the bright future of a new kingdom.

No one knew that the crown Lucas was about to wear… had already been drenched in blood.