La Decomposition Du Roi

In front of the king's chamber, and just before he entered the room, Tom cracked the joints of his neck.

For that brief moment, he muttered a single name under his breath.

"Alexander de Astrial."

They say that the best liars are those who can deceive even themselves.

By repeating the name of Alexander over and over again, Tom's presence and aura completely transformed, becoming identical to that of Alexander.

At that moment, Tom was using everything he had learned from being close to Alexander: from the way he walked to the way he talked.

"I guess there isn't a point in delaying this any further," Tom thought as he stepped forward.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Tom knocked on the door three consecutive times, then said in a loud yet respectful tone, "This humble one seeks audience with the royal father."

He waited for a few seconds, but all he was greeted with was silence. With the seconds stretching into minutes, Tom began to doubt if the information he received was correct.

Then, and without any prior warning, the door creaked open on its own.

The sound it created when it opened made it seem like the hinges hadn't moved in years.

As he stepped inside, Tom was greeted by the stench of mildew mixed with the smell of decaying fabrics.

The air was thick with an aura of death and decay. This feeling grew stronger when Tom's eyes fell on the only person who occupied the room: a thin, corpse-like figure seated motionlessly with his back facing Tom. The body of the figure looked as if it had been hollowed out of its innards.

The only indication of life from him was a stick-like arm moving as it continued to paint on a large piece of paper.

Tom frowned at the scene, wondering if this really was a grand knight.

Where was the ruthlessness of a knight? Where was the killing intent of a grand knight? Where was the king who had once made people tremble at the mere mention of his name?

Instead of being satisfied, Tom was left feeling unresolved. All of his work until now was done to finish off the six most powerful men in the seven kingdoms, yet after all of this, he came to find the wise king reduced to this.

You shouldn't mistake this for him hating easy prey. In fact, Tom loved nothing more than a weak enemy that he could finish off quickly. But the difference in his expectations and reality left him feeling uneasy.

However, that unease didn't last long.

The moment Sofos turned his head and locked eyes with Tom, his instincts screamed at him to run away. Something was seriously wrong.

That unsettling feeling only intensified when Sofos smiled, a slow, eerie grin that revealed his mouth was missing more teeth than it had left.

Before he could decide on his next action, Sofos spoke.

"And who might you be?" His voice sounded like the wails of a thousand dying ghosts.

Tom held his composure and replied in a puzzled tone, "Father, it's me, Alexander."

The king didn't look amused with Tom's answer. His head shook slowly, and his smile somehow grew wider.

"I might not have been involved in that son of mine's life, but do you seriously think I wouldn't recognize a stranger wearing his face like some toy?"

Knowing the situation was slipping out of his control, Tom quickly extended his black claws, ready to strike at the slightest movement from Sofos.

Strangely, Sofos didn't seem to react to the claws. Instead, he kept talking, with the same strange smile of his.

"What did you do to Alexander? Did you kill him?" Sofos asked, his voice disturbingly casual, as though he wasn't asking about his son's life.

Before Tom could answer, Sofos continued, "Did you also come to kill me? You're a strange one, aren't you? But why do I get this feeling from you as if you're confident that you can easily kill me?"

The king fell silent for a moment before erupting into maniacal laughter. His body rattled, and his rib cage seemed like it might collapse under the pressure of his laugh, which was akin to that of a banshee's instead of a human.

"I see," Sofos said, scratching the sparse hairs of his stubble. "You're not from here, are you, little friend?"

Tom's pupils widened.

He asked himself, 'How, how did he know?'

Until now, only one being had known about his identity as a traveler. It hadn't surprised him then, but for Sofos who seemed completely isolated from the outside world to somehow figure it out?

No, even if Sofos wasn't isolated, there should have been no way he could know. The only explanation that was left was that he had deduced his identity from their short interaction.

Tom knew that this old man wasn't simple, but after seeing this, he understood that Alexander couldn't hold a candle to his father.

One question remained in Tom's mind, 'how?'

He knew that if he didn't find the reason now, he would never be able to rest easy.

What if, in the next world, someone else discovered his secret? And what about when he reached high-ranking worlds? His identity might provoke the powerful beings there to eliminate him before he could grow strong enough to threaten their authority.

Tom didn't doubt for even a second that the king was bluffing. Without hesitation, he asked, "How?"

At that moment, Sofos's grin somehow stretched even wider, as if it might split his face in two.

"Haha. Don't be afraid, little friend," Sofos said. "I'll tell you. But first, I have one condition."

"What is it?" Tom asked cautiously. If the price was too high, he could promise to comply and later renege on that promise, or, a simpler solution, was to simply torture the king for the answer.

"Kill me."

"What?"

"Kill me," Sofos repeated.

The room fell into a deep, suffocating silence. You could hear a pin drop.

"Fine," Tom said at last. "Now tell me. I came here for that anyway."

"Good, good, good," Sofos said, his tone carrying a hint of relief, as though a weight had been lifted off him. "The answer is simple: your stench."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"To me, you smell like a rotting corpse. Your blood reeks from a mile away. You've mixed more than one bloodline in you." Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "By doing so, you've broken a long chain of lineage. That alone would alert any grand knight. With a single glance, they would sense that you're not normal."

Sofos leaned closer, "But don't worry. The other fools would only find you an eyesore, their minds are unable to comprehend the idea of someone being able to enter this world. They are too blinded by their sense of glory being dogs to the gods."

Tom's mind raced. He just heard two major pieces of information.

He thought, 'Why hadn't Folek or Hidden noticed this stench?'

Then it hit him. A look of realization crossed his face. Folek and Hidden's bloodlines had been altered by him. They now carry the same bloodline he has.

Their inability to smell this stench was only natural, like how a person is less likely to notice their own bad smell.

What truly made Tom pause, however, was the way Sofos spoke about the gods.

The things around him were turning even more bizarre.