The King furrowed his brow, his expression stern. "What do you know of them, Sora? Are they friends or foes?"
The King continued speaking, and his next sentence chilled me to the bone. "The successor to the throne will be your brother Ryker." I felt a punch to my gut, but I wasn't surprised. I knew I wasn't accepted by the people, that my birth had been a disappointment to many.
"As you command, Your Majesty," I replied indifferently, trying to hide the pain flooding through me. "But why summon me? If you only meant to announce your successor, you could have done so in court, before everyone."
A heavy silence lingered for several seconds, oppressive and suffocating. The King stared at me with a severe expression, as if studying my reaction.
"Sora," he finally said, his voice dripping with disdain, "you claim to sense two threats, yet you remain silent. Still, I misjudged you. I thought you capable of leading this kingdom, but now I see you're nothing but a weak, indecisive boy."
His voice rose, filled with contempt. "I believed you might be fit for the crown, but it is your brother Ryker who will wear it. He possesses the strength and resolve you will never have."
My heart burned with fury and pain, but I maintained my composure, knowing any impulsive reaction would only make things worse.
"As you command, Your Majesty," I said flatly, my voice devoid of emotion. "But why summon me? If you only meant to announce your successor, you could have done so in court, before everyone?"
My mind seethed with rage and frustration, desperate to escape this place. I wanted to stop wasting my time in a kingdom that had denied me everything. But there was more—something consuming me from within. A desire for vengeance, to seize the throne by force.
Verónica, the King's personal guardian, was an insurmountable obstacle. Her power was legendary, her loyalty to the King unshakable. But I wouldn't surrender. Not without a fight.
"Are you wasting my time standing before me?!" roared the King, his face flushed with rage. His voice echoed through the hall, putting the guards on alert.
I answered truthfully, unafraid of the consequences. "Since the moment you summoned me, it's been a total waste of time. Don't assume I respect a king like you," I said, my voice firm and defiant.
The King rose from his throne, his voice trembling with fury. "Do you wish to die?" he demanded, his gaze murderous.
My reply was direct and unwavering. "Truthfully, Your Majesty, even as your son, I will cease to act as one. I renounce my right to the throne and any title binding me to you."
The hall plunged into tomb-like silence. The King fell silent, his face pale with rage. I knew I'd crossed a line—there was no turning back.
At that moment, the empire trembled to its core. Sofia had warned of this, and now the reality was even more terrifying than I'd imagined. Two powerful beings descended into the throne room, their presence accompanied by devastating energy that shook the ground. After mercilessly killing the King, they shouted in unison: "Let the purge begin."
Their voices thundered through the hall, and the air filled with destructive energy that seemed to consume everything. "*The purge*?" I thought, confused and terrified. "What are these lunatics saying? What do they want?"
But before I could react, the sky split open, and twelve apostles and several angels descended, bathed in blinding light that illuminated the hall. Their arrival was like a hurricane, brimming with power and authority.
One of the two beings glared at me impatiently, his gaze piercing. "Boy, leave if you don't wish to die," he said arrogantly.
I realized this was no game. The situation was real and dangerous, and my survival instincts kicked in. "Who are you?" I asked, trying to stay calm as I slowly retreated, my eyes locked on the beings who seemed to have emerged from nowhere.
The answer was obvious: they weren't human, nor angels. But why were they bowing to my brother? What connection did they share? What dark secret lay behind their submission?
"It is time for the new Demon King to rise," said the other being, his voice reverent, his eyes blazing with fanaticism.
"*Demon King*?" I thought, horrified. "What's happening?" My mind whirled with questions and fears, but I knew there was no time to dwell. I had to act.
I decided to flee, using my speed and agility to escape as quickly as possible. My heart pounded as I soared over rooftops, the city sprawled below.
"Sofia, how many dead?" I asked once I was safe.
"Dead: 700,000," Sofia replied, her voice cold and objective. "In under a minute. The situation is critical, my lord. We must find safe refuge and plan our next move."
Her words froze my blood. The scale of the massacre was inconceivable. What had my brother unleashed?
I screamed, my voice choked with rage and anguish. My chest burned with fury, my mind a storm of confusion. But then I remembered Sofia's words: "Survival comes first." I forced myself to calm down, to focus on my goal.
"But my life comes first," I reminded myself, repeating it like a mantra. I had to stay calm and think clearly if I wanted to survive this night.
As I fled, the darkness seemed to close in. But I wasn't alone. Someone intercepted me, emerging from the shadows like a specter.
"You are a valuable sacrifice," he shouted, his voice fanatical. "You must not leave."
My response was instant. "Then we fight to the death."
As I spoke, a macabre smile spread across my face. My cruel reality was that, in my past life, I'd been obsessed with combat. Adrenaline and violence had consumed me, and now, in this moment, I felt myself returning to that dark place.
The smile widened, revealing my true nature. "Let's see who the real sacrifice is," I hissed.
Then I drew my sword and attacked the specter with full force. The situation was critical—my body plunged into a euphoric battle trance. As my sword clashed with his scythe, it became an abysmal display of skill.
"You're good," the specter laughed. "No mortal has ever rivaled my scythe. If we weren't enemies, we'd make fine friends."
Our weapons clashed in a flurry of strikes resonating through the air. *Enough tricks*, I told myself. I shouted at the specter: "Why not fight using your full power already? This isn't a game!"
The specter grinned and accelerated. Our blows grew faster, each more intense than the last. But I wouldn't yield. I focused my energy and prepared my strongest attack.
"Newtonian!" I roared, channeling dark, devastating energy into my sword.
The specter halted, stunned by the attack's power. The energy began absorbing him, slowing his speed and strength. The Newtonian expanded, creating a gravitational pull that dragged him toward its center.
He couldn't escape. The specter struggled, but it was too late. The Newtonian consumed him entirely, sealing him in a dimensional prison.
I stood exhausted, my clothes nearly shredded. The energy I'd expended left me drained. I leaned on my sword, gasping for air.
"This ends here," I said, staring into the void left by the specter.
As I stood there, battered from the battle, unaware of the new threat looming, I heard a voice cry: "Spiritual Slash!" The words thundered in my mind, and before I could react, the attack struck me with devastating force.
The impact felt like a lightning bolt tearing through my soul, leaving me breathless and powerless. My body felt split in two, my spirit shredded by the attack's intensity. Darkness engulfed me, and I felt myself sinking into an endless abyss—no surface, no hope.
It was like falling into water without resistance, without the sound of waves. Only the endless plunge, directionless, consciousness fading. My mind dissolved, and my body collapsed, lifeless.
At that moment, everything stopped. Time froze, and my existence narrowed to a single point, a single thought: *nothingness*.
"Is this... a survivor?" asked an unfamiliar voice, slightly surprised.
"Take him to our lord," suggested another, more authoritative voice.
"But our lord won't accept him," interjected a third, skeptical. "He's human. Unworthy of his attention."
Just as the debate seemed to escalate, a soft, melodic female voice spoke.
"Our lord is merciful," she said. "Besides, I sense a great aura emanating from him. Though he appears dead, he still lives."
Her words soothed the tension. The female voice continued:
"Bring him before our lord. He will decide his fate."
The room fell into expectant silence as I lay motionless.