[Nicholas Anstalionah.]
I sighed at the mention of my name.
Such a thing was useless to attack. Words, titles, legacies, none of them held meaning unless one allowed them to.
I sat down beside Mirabel as she shifted upright in her seat. Malachi, waiting patiently across from us, offered her a cup of wine.
She declined with a simple shake of her head.
I finally managed to lower myself into the seat beside her.
Nicole.
That was her name, the one that had returned to me in a blur, faint, like an echo long forgotten.
My elder sister had always been remarkable. Cunning, cruel when necessary, and brilliant beyond reason.
Now that I was sure she stood on my side again, I could focus on more pressing matters. Fertical would fall soon. Then, after that, the Golden Authority.
"So, my king," Malachi said with a voice light as wind, though his eyes were sharp. "I've heard rumors that you plan to declare war on Fertical. Is that true?"
I nodded and reached for the cup of wine Mirabel had refused. "Quite sure they already want my head. Would war not be... appropriate?"
He chuckled softly. "Well, yes. They do want your head. But war? You're still young, Nicholas. Perhaps you should reconsider."
I raised an eyebrow and took a sip of the wine. It was terrible just as I expected.
"You're not that much older than me," I replied, voice flat. "Even Nicole passes you."
He sighed and ran a hand through his dark curls. "Still... war would mean this is your first true conflict since..."
Mirabel suddenly slammed her fist down on the table. The entire room seemed to jolt with the weight of it.
"He will participate," she said sharply. "As you can see, he has passed the ritual."
Malachi's gaze shifted slowly to the blade wrapped in white cloth resting at my side.
His expression changed. The worry dimmed slightly, but behind his smile, I still saw hesitation lingering.
"With your illness and all," he muttered, "perhaps you should delay. Sit this one out until the ceremony. Or move it forward."
Mirabel turned to me quickly, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What ceremony?"
Ah. So he was referring to that.
The heir.
I glanced away, casually swirling the wine in my cup.
It wasn't as if my sister were absent. She was very present. And the wedding was already two months away.
Eight weeks. Sixty days. Practically nothing.
[Nicholas had seemingly forgotten that time does pass in this world of his.]
"Trust me, Mirabel," I said with a small smile. "We'll marry on the right day."
She exhaled, uncertain but unwilling to press further.
Malachi leaned back and let out a quiet groan. "I know my reputation. But Fertical is not short of warriors who could rival even our finest."
I stood, without a word, and extended my hand outward. Open. Reaching.
"Malachi," I said quietly, "I can touch it now. You know that, right?"
[Nicholas was going to abuse his newfound power in any way he could.]
Malachi's expression barely had time to shift.
He coughed once, sharply, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
My fingers slowly curled inward.
Mirabel's eyes widened. She leaned forward in alarm, her voice caught in her throat as she watched him begin to choke.
Blood welled at his mouth, sputtering as he clutched his chest.
Still, I remained calm.
"I am no pushover," I said softly. "My weakness does not define my strength. It only builds the foundation for manipulation."
Malachi gagged. A red bubble rose from his lips, then burst into dust. No trace of it remained.
And yet... he looked up at me with something I did not expect.
Pride.
He smiled faintly. "Then I will take my leave and gather my men."
He stood, staggering slightly, then steadied himself.
To Mirabel's visible confusion, he crossed the room and leaned in close.
"You're terrifying," he whispered.
And then he left.
I looked down at Mirabel. She stared at me, unsure whether to speak or scream.
I tilted my head slightly and smiled. "Trust me. He's now fully on board."
Power overrides all things. As such, the only way to prove oneself in the face of power is through power.
I have all the hope in the world that I am the most powerful. That alone is enough to prove myself.
Mirabel took my face in her hands and shook her head. "You worry me sometimes."
I pulled her to her feet and opened the doors. "Really? Couldn't possibly tell you why."
As we walked down the hall, I began to visualize something. Carefully. Precisely.
A win.
There was something deep within me, something that caused me to hear a heartbeat even as I died.
My heart was broken. Filled with something terrible and hateful.
It was ambition. In a world of nothing, something like that should not exist.
That is why I must make something from the nothingness in my heart. A creation born of void. It clings to me like a shadow.
Malachi understood that war was not something anyone wanted. But it was a need. A need I alone carried.
My sister Nicole understood what it meant to give birth to something from nothing.
Gabriel, that cursed doctor, would make certain my story was told, even if only to grant the world a sliver of salvation.
And Mirabel... she would be an anchor. An anchor to a ship that, if moved, would become unstoppable.
[Nicholas felt happy. It was looking like he could pull this off. Everything he did was calculated. Planned.]
I stepped out of the castle doors and saw Malachi's carriage rolling away. The sky above, painted an azure red, seemed to welcome me.
"Mirabel, it's time. I wish to go out. Would you allow that?"
She looked at me with eyes filled with something strange, something terrible. "Is this the new you?"
Mana began to weave around my lips, sealing the corners and stopping the blood from leaking. "This kingdom is the strongest, the largest, and the most merciful. That is why."
She smiled softly, leaned in, and kissed my cheek. "You should really be more careful. Malachi might retaliate."
I let go of her hand.
And for the first time in years, at least for her, I was outside alone.
Stepping past the gates and the guards, I saw people.
Houses. Shops. Lives stirring beneath the light of stars.
Children laughing. Moments of happiness.
[Nicholas was lazy. In that regard, he did not want to continue. He wished to stay stagnant.]
I took a step forward and instantly felt a wave of relief wash over me.
As a golden light shone down from above, I smiled. "This conclusion of mine... it starts with a fall."
[Nicholas was like an angel, crafted for a purpose, a pride, a goal.]
I moved steadily through the central plaza. The stone beneath my feet was worn smooth, and the air carried the mingled scents of roasting meat, fresh bread, and the faint tang of smoke.
At the far end, I reached the massive gate.
Towering walls loomed overhead, guarded by rows of sentinels marching in precise formation along the battlements.
As I approached, one of them descended and sent down a man clad in gleaming white armor.
His steps were measured, and his gaze was sharp as he blocked my path.
"My king? May I ask what business you have with the world outside?"
I placed a finger lightly on my lips and met his gaze steadily. "Monsters. I want to hunt monsters."