In the dimly lit chamber of the king's opulent hotel, shadows danced along the walls, flickering in rhythm with the flames of the ornate candelabras. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and something more sinister, a lingering hint of iron that hinted at the dark rituals that had taken place within these walls.
The Undying Man was an unnerving sight, a figure perpetually on the edge of collapse. He did not look like a fresh corpse, but like something preserved and then forgotten. He was tall and unnaturally thin, wearing robes that were once grand and embroidered but were now brittle and faded like old paper.
A big ruby ring sat on his skeletal-like finger. His skin stretched tight over his bone structure, the color of old ivory or parchment, with a dry, cracked texture that suggested centuries without moisture. It did not bleed when cut; it flaked.
His eyes were the only things that truly lived. They were sunk deep into his sockets and glowed with a faint, internal, sickly yellow light—the color of ambition and ancient hunger. They never blinked.
His aura. A constant, faint shimmering haze surrounded him, a cloud of cold that pushed away all natural warmth. This haze was what allowed him to move and manipulate the hotel. When he got angry, the air around him crackled, and the shadows in the room deepened.
He sat upon a throne-like chair, his eyes glinting with an unnatural light, a mix of hunger and desperation.
His underling, Mr. Griff, stared at the gaunt figure with hollow cheeks and with a nervous twitch, entered the room, bowing low before the king. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across his face, accentuating the fear that lingered in his eyes. "My lord," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "I bring news of a suitable candidate for the sacrifice."
The man's heart quickened, a flicker of hope igniting within him. "Speak," he commanded, his voice a low growl, echoing off the stone walls. "Who is this chosen one?" He had been waiting for a long time. Was it eight hundred years or longer? He could not even remember. Staying like this for so many years could make anyone mad and frustrated. His greatest wish was to come back and live like a human, not like these bones, wasting away as time passed. He wondered what his servant wanted to say; could it be that he had finally found the solution. His gaze toward Griff changed immediately to fondness.
Goosebumps appeared on Griff's body, who was kneeling on one knee. A cold chill passed through his spine, and he could not help but shiver. He knew if he did not open his mouth then, he would be in great trouble.
He straightened, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. "A girl, just nineteen years of age. She is in the hotel with her family; she is a perfect blend of innocence and vitality. Her spirit is untainted, and her blood… it would be a powerful offering."
"Forget about that; that isn't the main issue. In this era, virgins were hard to come by. They had become scarce. When I released my aura the last time, however, I discovered no trace of any." The Undying Man sighed. His aura could scan at least fifty kilometers despite his deteriorating power. All he needed to do to confirm Griff's words was to release his aura.
Just as he did, he discovered her immediately. He gave a thunder-cracking laugh in happiness. Strength seemed to appear in his hand as he patted Griff's shoulder, who trembled in pain.
This king had been trying to conserve his strength, so he avoided moving at all, which was both unbeatable and a pain to the ass. But now, he could see hope. He smiled, his glowing yellow orbs shining eerily in the dark hall.
"Not bad! Not bad!" he repeated, with a weird smile. He knew that his recovery was imminent. He could recover to be the strong king he was before.
"I will rule and conquer this world this time, no more mistakes," he muttered. Glancing at Griff, he remarked,
"I can sense a strong, untainted life vitality from this young lass; she is different from other virgin girls we sacrificed, the right vessel indeed. Get to work at once."
A slow smile crept across the king's face, but it was tinged with a shadow of doubt. "And what of the last sacrifice?" he asked, his tone suddenly sharp. "The girl from the village—she was meant to be the key to my revival, yet she brought nothing but failure."
Griff flinched at the memory, the weight of past mistakes heavy in the air. "That was… an anomaly, my lord. The stars were not aligned, perhaps. But this girl, she is different. I can feel it. The energy surrounding her is potent, and the signs are favorable. My lord, I would admit that turning this place into a hotel was a huge mistake indeed; instead of bringing us closer to our goal, it brought nothing but gold coins."
The king leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications. "What if she too is cursed? What if she brings only more ruin?" His voice was a low whisper, filled with the echoes of his past failures. "I cannot afford another mistake."
Mr. Griff stepped closer, desperation creeping into his voice. "We can prepare, my lord. We can ensure that this time, everything is perfect. The rituals will be flawless; the offerings will be made under the right moon. This girl… she is the key to your reign, to your immortality."
The king's expression softened, the flicker of hope battling against the shadows of doubt. "Very well," he said, his voice steadying. "Bring her to me. We shall not waste this opportunity. But mark my words—if it fails, it will be your head that rolls. I want results, not excuses."
"Yes, my lord." Griff bowed.
"There will be bountiful rewards for you all, once I recover." The king waved his hand. "Leave."
"Yes, my lord."
The king suddenly gave out a scary laugh. The scared underling bowed and retreated. The king leaned back in his chair, the weight of centuries pressing down upon him. He gazed into the flickering flames, contemplating the delicate balance between power and sacrifice and the lengths he would go to reclaim his throne. The night was still young, and the hunt for the perfect sacrifice had only just begun. Afterwards he closed his eyes, going back to slumber.