Regret and Oblivion

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Golden rays of sunlight, filtering through richly colored stained glass windows, wove shimmering patterns on the polished marble floor of the vast hall. The bright flashes created an enchanting dance of colors, casting moving shadows that seemed to animate and weave around the imposing columns. The iridescent reflections on the marble, like ephemeral fireworks, infused the space with an almost magical atmosphere.

On this radiant morning, the ambiance could have been soothing, almost comforting, were it not for the fact that I found myself immersed in an interminable meeting with these old men. Their constant presence seemed to poison the day's sweetness with their incessant suggestions and dogmatic opinions. This was something I had to endure with reluctance.

At the end of an imposing conference table, dominating the center of the room, I stood with a marked presence. The table, adorned with rich inlays and surrounded by dark leather chairs, served as the core of the Council. The Council members were seated around it, engrossed in animated discussions on political and strategic issues, their voices blending into a cacophony of debates and disagreements.

I wore an elegant royal attire; a precious fabric draped over my shoulders, accompanied by a deep blue cloak, sprinkled with threads of gold, cascading fluidly. The crown, carefully placed upon my head, sparkled with a delicate gleam, symbolizing my rank but also the heavy responsibility it entailed. My posture, though majestic, bore no armor or scepter, highlighting the ceremonial aspect of my presence in contrast to the lively exchanges happening around the table.

The atmosphere was thick with tension, as power plays and intrigues unfolded like a macabre dance under the palace's imposing vaults. The marble floor, with its icy white sheen, gleamed with an immaculate coldness, indifferent to the human dramas playing out upon its surface.

I could only sigh inwardly at the scene unfolding before me. I wielded little real power, especially in matters of politics.

Though I held the title of King, I was in reality just a glorified soldier. The real power, the one shaping the country's politics and economy, lay in the hands of the Council.

So, what had happened to my position as King?

The title of King was meant to signify that I represented an army unto myself. However, due to demographic decline and limited resources, the Councils of each nation had convened. After countless months of debate and negotiation, they concluded that if wars continued, we would eventually disappear.

Ending the wars would result in two major outcomes: on one hand, a reduction in casualties, fostering population growth; on the other hand, preserving lands and resources already damaged by the use of nuclear weapons. The adopted solution was to replace traditional armed conflicts with a completely different form of combat.

What replaced the wars was known as the Paragon Duels. When a national dispute arose, a Paragon Duel was declared. Each country sent its most powerful representative, one whose abilities and strength were unmatched, to face the representatives of other nations in singular combat. These duels, far from being mere confrontations, were spectacles of power and skill designed to resolve conflicts without unleashing the horrors of traditional war.

As King, it was imperative for me to participate in these duels to preserve my country's honor. During these fights, I managed to maintain an impeccable winning streak. This invincibility earned me the title of the world's most powerful fighter.

However, not only did this title not warm my heart, but every time I thought about it, I felt a deep indignation at being considered as such, because there was one person—no, a true monster—who stood light-years ahead of me.

But I felt neither fear nor jealousy, at least not anymore. What I now felt was a crushing regret and guilt, like a stinging reminder of the time I spent with that monster, my friend...

Shaking off these haunting thoughts, I refocused on the meeting, whose intensity had significantly increased while my mind wandered.

The Council consisted of nine individuals, each an expert in a distinct but essential area for the country's functioning. Their composition reflected the diversity of political responsibilities; from those managing internal affairs and security to those responsible for diplomacy and finances. Their role was to navigate the complexities of national issues, their often animated debates and decisions profoundly influencing the country's direction.

However, among the members of the Council, three of them regularly stood out during these monotonous meetings, like bursts of light in a cloudy sky. It was always the same individuals, whose voices and opinions were notable for their force and influence.

The first of them, Sir Bartholomew, a stern man consumed by an insatiable ambition, advocated for a tax increase to fund a new military campaign. His arguments, sharp as blades hidden under a veil of rhetoric, betrayed his true intentions, concealed beneath a facade of ostentatious devotion to the realm.

Facing him was Lady Evangeline, a young woman recently added to the Council. Her charming, yet deceptive smile concealed unparalleled treachery. She pushed for an alliance with a rival country, a project whose true aim was evident to anyone who could decipher her intentions; it was to consolidate her own fragile position within the court. Her soft and persuasive voice was merely a mask for her personal ambitions, a subtle veil hiding the political strategies she wove in the background.

And just to her right was Sir Auguste, a middle-aged man whose face betrayed a constant anxiety. His eyes, perpetually wide with evident paranoia, demanded with almost frantic insistence a strengthening of the border defenses. His obsession bordered on madness. His attitude seemed ridiculous to me, accentuating the cowardice and fear he displayed, growing my increasing frustration with his lack of courage.

As the meeting continued, my irritation grew. Despite the number of these meetings, I could never get used to what felt like a form of torture.

I much preferred the battlefield to this inertia, where I felt like a statue, forced to listen to nobles who had achieved their status through wealth and connections rather than true merit.

THUD

A loud noise suddenly broke the constant murmur of debates, capturing everyone's attention. The sound came from an elderly man, whose thick white hair, in harmony with his long beard, and his emerald eyes sparkling, suggested deep wisdom and erudition. He was the head of the Council, Marlorn, whose imposing aura and serene presence were enough to silence the room. He had struck the oak table, producing a sound that demanded silence.

Although I did not particularly like this cunning old man, I had to admit that he deserved credit for silencing these idiots. Without this gesture, I would have likely slipped out within the next minute, abandoning all pretense of behaving like a person of high stature.

Marlorn swept his gaze over each of the counselors, his voice tinged with measured exasperation:

"Stop behaving like children. You are influential figures, people on whom our citizens rely. We are here to improve the living conditions in our country, not to endlessly repeat the same debates."

At these words, I saw everyone lower their eyes, not out of shame, but to avoid provoking the old man's anger. After all, Marlorn was their superior, and no one wanted to lose the comfortable position they occupied.

Honestly, I would find some satisfaction in seeing them ousted from political power. It was not so much that I feared them, but rather that I was tired of seeing their dirty faces.

"And because of your senseless bickering, you make his Majesty uncomfortable, who is striving to stay with us despite everything. I therefore order you to behave decently in her presence," declared Marlorn. His voice, marked by firm authority, imposed an immediate silence in the room. The Council members, visibly shaken, straightened in their seats and tried to correct their attitude, aware that their conduct would now be closely monitored.

Well, it wasn't surprising that he acted this way, hoping to gain my favor. Although he was the head of the Council, those who actually run the country's affairs, I remain the King! My authority always surpasses his, and inevitably, the people will follow their King rather than his advisors.

So why would I let them manipulate the country as they please while allowing myself to be ensnared in their intrigues? The answer is simple. I exercise my authority not to improve the country but to accomplish an old vengeance, still unfinished.

But I would be lying to myself if I claimed that I cared little about my people. I would be lying if I said I did not regret causing the deaths of so many innocents, to the point where we could have piled the bodies to form the greatest mountain.

I would have so much liked for things to return as they were, for me not to be consumed by the obsession of becoming King to achieve such a selfish goal in the eyes of my friends.

I would have wanted to escape from the indelible bloodstains that forever mark my hands….

But how could I stop after all these sacrifices?

To turn back would mean betraying my mother's memory. As long as that b*stard and his organization are not annihilated under the weight of my own justice, she will never find peace.

Time no longer matters to me. Whether I am called a mad King or condemned by history, I do not care.

No matter how many souls I must reap to fulfill my vengeance, I will raze an entire country if necessary.

I will finish what I started, no matter the cost.

"King Grey!"

Marlorn's sudden cry jolted me back to reality, cutting short the flow of my dark thoughts. His voice, laden with concern, resonated through the room, betraying a hint of fear he couldn't quite conceal. I could sense that the other Council members shared this same unease, their hesitant gazes avoiding mine.

I didn't immediately understand the reason for their behavior until my gaze fell on my clenched hand. It had gripped the armrest of my chair so violently that the wood had cracked under the pressure, fragments scattered as evidence of my loss of control.

I couldn't help but curse inwardly. How could a mere memory ignite such anger in me, to the point of losing control?

"King Grey, are you alright? Should we perhaps shorten this meeting?" Marlorn asked cautiously, his eyes shining with a mix of concern and fear. He seemed unsure of how I might react, as did everyone in the room.

Slowly lifting my eyes to the old advisor, I replied in a calm, monotonous voice:

"I am fine, Marlorn. Just a bit of fatigue, nothing to worry about. But I would like us to conclude here for today."

"Of course, Your Majesty. Your health takes precedence over this meeting. Gentlemen, you are free to leave for today. We will resume next week," he announced, closing the session. Although some appeared frustrated at not being able to make their final word, none dared to protest, out of respect for Marlorn and especially out of fear of upsetting me.

Slowly rising from my seat, I left the vast hall without a word. A barely concealed relief washed over me. The imposing doors closed with a loud thud, freeing me from the oppressive atmosphere and the curious gazes on me.

I began stretching my arms, feeling the stiffness accumulated after hours spent sitting among these old men. Even the most exhausting training at military school had never left me with such a sense of fatigue.

Finally sighing, I started walking through the grand corridors of the palace, making my way among the architectural splendors that surrounded me.

The richly decorated walls echoed with the regular sound of my footsteps, turning each echo into a bittersweet melody in this sanctuary of marble and gold. The tapestries with vibrant colors depicted the great epics of the past, while the chandeliers overhead cast a golden light, creating an atmosphere imbued with solemnity. The intricate details of the sculptures and moldings, the work of talented artisans, paid homage to the grandeur and magnificence of the palace.

But there were also the portraits of deceased kings watching me from their gilded frames, their faces imbued with the gravity of their reigns. Each painting seemed to tell a story of power and sacrifice, the gazes of former sovereigns weighing on me. With just their stare, I could tell a lot about their personality.

There were greedy and avaricious kings.

Others who fought for honor and glory.

And some who did everything to improve the country.

Then there were those thirsty for conquest and power, who besieged and destroyed several nations.

If I had to place myself in one of these categories, it would undoubtedly be the last.

I could come up with the best excuses, claim that my quest for vengeance is driven by the desire for justice for my mother, that my childhood was traumatic, or that I do not seek power. But these excuses are just masks to hide the faults I have committed, errors that harm others. It is human nature to want to reject one's faults and mistakes.

And all this makes me a sinner.

An abominable sinner, responsible for the destruction of millions of lives to avenge just one life.

A heartless sinner, who abandoned his friends and ruined their futures to pursue his revenge.

A cold sinner, who will not hesitate to kill anyone who stands in his way and who has nothing left to lose.

For I have already lost everything.

That is also why I cannot hide behind false pretexts. I must fully accept the path I have chosen, rather than pretending it.

So yes, I am a bad king, perhaps even the worst this country has ever known. And I am not proud of it, far from it.

Continuing my solitary walk through the majestic corridors while chasing away these memories, I passed once again by the flamboyant portraits of past kings and queens. Their faces, engraved in gilded frames, seemed to accentuate the crushing weight of my own responsibilities. This life, marked by duplicity and pretense, drained my energy, turning the crown into a gilded prison. Every smile I encountered concealed a potential threat, every gesture was loaded with deceit, and every gaze seemed to silently judge my reign.

But this life no longer holds any flavor for me, nor even any meaning. The misplaced glances and criticisms no longer reach me at all. None of this touches me or awakens any emotion within me.

What I never thought I would say is that I now wish to feel emotions again, even the most negative ones.

Arriving at the door to my chamber, or rather my royal chamber, I opened it gently to enter my designated space. Inside, the decor remained true to itself, like a luxurious room worthy of a king. The king-sized bed, majestically draped in opulent fabrics adorned with golden embroidery, occupied the center of the room, its impeccably stretched sheets reflecting the ambient light.

Around the bed, the polished wooden furniture displayed timeless elegance. A massive mahogany desk, with its finely carved details, stood in one corner, while a glass display case, showcasing my royal armor, glittered under the soft lighting. The walls were decorated with tapestries featuring intricate patterns, adding a touch of sophistication to the overall ambiance.

A large window, framed by heavy velvet curtains, offered a stunning view of the city. The twinkling lights of the metropolis below created a dazzling panorama, contrasting with the serenity inside. This majestic sight, though unusual in its brilliance, did nothing to diminish the feeling of weariness that overwhelmed me.

I began changing into more comfortable night clothes after delicately removing my crown, which had weighed heavily on my head all day. Once dressed, I did not head to the bed. Instead, I sat in a leather armchair near the window. There, I allowed myself to contemplate the nighttime view of the city, letting my mind wander as I watched the twinkling lights and the inhabitants going about their business below.

Thinking about it, it's almost incredible. I was an abandoned child, without family, wandering through the most miserable districts of the city. And now, that same child has become the king, the most influential person in the country.

It could almost be seen as a fairy tale, couldn't it?

But I haven't become a king like those in children's stories. On the contrary, my story is much darker.

I no longer resemble what I once was. Since that accident, my life has taken a tragic turn. Not only I, but my former friends too, have been disastrously separated, marking the end of what we had built together.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to push away those memories I wish I could forget. But they returned, relentless, like a scourge that never lets go. They haunt me, constantly reminding me of the terrible mistakes I've made. Every image, every detail of those moments brings me back to guilt and regret.

I can say that I own up to the horrible acts I've committed, that I am a murderer and the worst person one can know. I can equally assert that I will pursue my vengeance, no matter the darkness it leads me into.

But despite everything, there is one thing I can never accept; a single fatal mistake, which is the beginning of my downfall.

Never... but never will I be able to face that fault, which marked the start of my ruin.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

I jumped at the sound of this unexpected voice. Instinctively, I rose from my chair, channeling my Ki to conjure a translucent blue sword. I turned around, searching for the source of this mysterious voice, scanning the corners of the room.

"Who?" I roared, panicked. The room is off-limits to anyone, and no one enters without my permission, except for servants on rare occasions. What disturbs me even more is that I detected no presence in the room. My senses are usually so sharp that I detect the slightest intrusion, but this time, I felt nothing, not a trace of an outsider.

What is most frightening is that this unknown voice seems to resonate from everywhere at once, plunging me into deep confusion.

I went on guard, moving frantically through every corner of the room, desperately trying to locate the intruder. I could not afford to lower my vigilance, not even for a fraction of a second. If someone could conceal their presence so effectively, they must be a top-level assassin!

What made the situation even more troubling was that I had never faced such an assassination attempt since the beginning of my reign. This lack of experience disadvantaged me significantly in this critical moment.

Unable to tolerate this farce any longer, I decided to act with brutality.

Gripping my Ki sword tightly, I intensified the flow of Ki to make it more powerful. With quick and precise movements, I began to launch waves of cutting strikes into every corner of the room. Blue light streaks tore through the furniture, shredded the bed, and slashed the walls, creating total chaos in the room. The destruction was so intense that it was almost impossible to recognize the place where I had sought to flush out the intruder.

I was utterly perplexed. Despite the havoc I had wreaked in my chamber, there was no trace of the intruder. My mind was racing, trying to understand why there was no one here. Was it possible that the accumulated stress during those long hours with those old dogs had played a trick on me? Perhaps this voice was merely an hallucination, born from my fatigue and pressure.

"Oh no, my dear, it's nothing of the sort."

The voice, soft but unfamiliar, sounded again, startling me sharply. Unlike the first time, it now seemed to come from a specific point, just behind me. A shiver ran down my spine as I slowly turned around, my eyes desperately trying to spot the source of this enigmatic voice.

What I discovered was utterly surreal. The scene before me seemed straight out of a strange dream or nightmare.

At the far end of the devastated room, a black and violet mist materialized, as if it were emerging from nowhere. This mist undulated and moved with an almost hypnotic fluidity. Gradually, it began to gather, forming an indistinct silhouette in the center of the room. As the mist tightened, it focused around the silhouette, which slowly emerged from the haze. When the silhouette was finally fully defined, the mist dissipated, revealing the appearance of the unknown with startling clarity.

The figure that formed before me was that of a woman. She wore an elegant Western-style dress; the top was white, adorned with delicate floral patterns, while the lower part of the dress was a deep, rich blue. Her long chestnut hair cascaded around her, adding a touch of grace to her appearance.

However, it was not so much her attire that surprised me, but rather the fact that her face seemed to be shrouded in an odd mist, as if a light fog concealed her features. This darkness obscured any expression, making it impossible to read what she felt or thought.

Yet strangely, at that very moment, I felt my heart start to race irregularly. It beat faster and faster, as if trying to escape from my chest. Each pulse seemed more intense than the last, until my heart pounded violently.

I had never experienced such an acceleration in my heartbeat before. Yet, in the presence of this unknown woman, despite her veiled face, a strange and inexplicable warmth filled my entire body.

For anyone, a racing heartbeat might indicate intense physical effort or a powerful emotion. In my case, it was clearly the latter.

It is understandable that my heart races in such an unusual and distressing situation. After all, who wouldn't be unsettled by such a supernatural phenomenon? Perhaps I am in a hallucination or a dream, as what this unknown woman has just done seems to defy all logic, even for someone with the utmost precision in Ki mastery.

But what I feel right now does not resemble fear or a normal reaction to such an unusual situation.

No, what I feel towards this woman is wrath.

An wrath so deep and intense that it almost hurts, as if it demands that I unleash all this rage upon the stranger before me.

I was lost... Why such rage towards someone I have never met before? Why, despite everything, does this woman suddenly seem so familiar?

Reflecting on it, I now remember that after the meeting, I had a strange feeling of lack, as if something was missing.

It was as if I was not supposed to be there, as if I was endlessly reliving the same day.

I felt completely disoriented, unable to understand what was happening. The walls of my chamber seemed to be closing in on me, like an invisible trap. The debris around me moved, creating a chaotic and unsettling scene.

Each time I looked at the woman, reality seemed to shift. The broken furniture reformed, then decomposed again. The scene was unstable, like a troubled dream.

My heart raced, and this physical agitation mixed with intense mental confusion. My thoughts were tangled and blurred, as if every moment of my life was inexplicably intertwined.

Memories and emotions blended, and the blurry woman seemed to overlap with scenes from my past life. Everything was distorted, every detail appearing strange and inaccurate.

I had never experienced such turmoil. It was as if someone or something was disturbing my perception of reality, making me doubt what was real. Everything I thought I knew seemed to waver, leaving me in profound confusion.

However, there is one thing I am certain of; this woman, no matter who she is, must be linked to something important.

The intense hatred I feel simply by being in her presence clearly indicates that she is not someone good for me. In fact, she might even be a much greater threat than I can imagine.

Moving with almost supernatural grace, she approached me with measured steps. Her fluid movements jolted me from my trance, bringing me back to the reality where I stood ready to defend my life. I pointed the Ki blade at her, determined not to be caught off guard.

"Wh-Who are you? What is your purpose in all this?" I asked, my voice trembling despite myself. In response to my question, the woman let out a soft laugh, tinged with a chilling irony that heightened my discomfort.

She was a foot away from my blade, and although her face remained obscured by an indistinct blur, I could sense a disconcerting calm emanating from her. At this distance, I could easily slit her throat, but she seemed utterly unconcerned.

Delicately, without my noticing, she grasped the blade of my Ki sword with a slender and graceful hand. By touching the blade, she dispelled the energy forming it, letting it dissipate into a faint mist. Instantly, my Ki sword was reduced to nothing, leaving me defenseless before her.

"What?" I murmured, stunned. I was shocked by how easily she had nullified—if there's a better word, destroyed—my Ki sword, a technique I had worked on so intensely.

Even though my Ki reserve was slightly below average, my mastery of this energy was exceptional. I had always had a particular talent for understanding and manipulating Ki, allowing me to excel in both military strategy and combat. My ability to quickly grasp complex concepts and apply them with remarkable precision was well recognized.

Thanks to this gift, I had reached heights that few could hope for. My Ki manipulation was considered among the best in this world.

Yet, this woman had just made my Ki sword disappear as if it were a mere breeze. It was inconceivable, given the perfection with which I had developed this skill.

This woman… no, this being, exuded indescribable power.

She was dangerous, incredibly dangerous.

"Oh, it seems I may have gone a bit too far, haven't I?" she chuckled softly, her voice both mocking and calm, abruptly snapping me out of my stupor.

She walked away with disconcerting indifference, turning her back without a hint of hesitation, as if I were nothing to her.

Slowly, she approached the large window, but this time, it was not the view of the city that interested her. Her gaze seemed to probe beyond this world, as if the landscape was foreign or even insignificant to her.

It was clear she had never set foot here before this moment, and yet, she seemed to find nothing worth observing, as if this place wasn't even worth her attention…

However, when she slightly tilted her head towards the night sky, despite her face still being hidden by that mysterious veil, I had the strange impression that a certain nostalgia emanated from her. As if, at that very moment, she was being swept away by a distant memory. Then, as suddenly as this feeling had appeared, she seemed to sink back into a palpable indifference, her entire being expressing a disconcerting weariness, as if nothing in this world could truly touch her.

"What a sad world you live in, King Grey. So sad that even the stars refuse to light up your nights," she declared, her voice soft yet laden with condescension.

Once again, a sense of familiarity struck me at her words.

The stars…

Although I had never truly gazed upon a starry sky, it had never piqued my interest to the point that I had given it any thought. Yet, her words evoked something deeply buried.

No, I mustn't get lost in this! What she had just said could mean much more than a mere comment. Perhaps she did not come from this world.

It seemed inconceivable, but yet, a strange logic emerged. Although I had always believed in the possibility of life beyond our planet, I never imagined that traveling between worlds could actually be possible.

She exuded something unique, both in her appearance and in her abilities that defied any known physical law. None of the techniques I knew, even in the most extravagant books on Ki manipulation, came close to what she had demonstrated—these things were only found in stories. Moreover, there was her obvious ignorance of this world, her strange words that sounded as if they came from a place far beyond my imagination.

But why, then, did this sense of familiarity gnaw at me so much? As if she and I had shared a common past, a connection I could not ignore. If, by some chance, our paths had crossed before, what could she have done to provoke such hatred in me? A burning rage, almost uncontrollable, that made me want to kill her right here and now, without hesitation.

This anger, lurking in the shadow of my consciousness, seemed both older and more recent than my own memories.

"Hm, as much as I am pleased to see your state of confusion, I am not here to see you so miserable, King Grey," she said, her voice tinged with a bittersweet irony.

Her words struck another chord within me, awakening a deeper frustration, a frustration I could not name. My fists clenched involuntarily, as if my body was reacting to a silent affront. Yet, behind this light and almost mocking tone, there was something else. A hidden intent, a purpose she was not yet revealing.

But I was no longer in a state to decipher her wordplay. All I wanted were answers.

"You haven't answered my question," I said cautiously, my muscles tense from the effort to control my anxiety. "Who are you and what is the reason for your presence here?"

I weighed my words carefully, aware that any mistake could be fatal. The power she had displayed, though subtle, was terrifying enough to remind me that, if she wished, she could eliminate me in the blink of an eye. Yet she had made no move to harm me. This meant she had not come for that.

No, if her goal had been to kill me, she would have done so already, and no one would ever know how or why. None of my guards would have detected her. All this led me to think that, despite the aura of menace she exuded, this encounter was not driven by a simple desire for violence.

So why was she here?

She slightly turned her head in my direction, a heavy silence following her movement. Without a word, she moved towards the debris of the destroyed table. A dark purple aura formed around the scattered pieces, causing them to levitate in the air. The fragments gradually reassembled, coming together with astonishing precision. Within moments, the table and two chairs were restored as if they had never been destroyed.

I stood agape, my eyes wide at the ease with which she had restored the furniture. It was as if she had manipulated time itself to reverse the damage, returning the furniture to its original state with unreal fluidity.

Looking back in my direction and seeing my shocked face, she burst into a light laugh, as if my surprised reaction brought her evident pleasure.

"It seems that even the great King Grey is easily impressed," she teased, with an enigmatic smile. Her voice, soft yet filled with contempt, carried a note of sarcasm. She observed my reaction with evident satisfaction, amused by the effect her gesture had on me. Her relaxed posture and her unnervingly calm gaze further accentuated the distance between us, leaving me in total confusion.

"How did you do that?" I dared to ask, my voice betraying a hint of anxiety. The ease with which she had restored the furniture seemed almost unbelievable. If such a display of power was merely a sleight of hand, I shuddered to think of what she might be capable of when fully using her abilities. Just the thought made me swallow nervously.

I hate to admit it, but I felt like a stunned spectator before a magic trick, unable to comprehend how such a feat was achieved. It was as if I was becoming the subject of a demonstration that exceeded the limits of my understanding.

"Patience, King Grey. Answers will come in time. And don't be so nervous, I am not here to harm you, just to have a conversation," she replied, before gesturing for me to sit opposite her.

Indeed, how long had it been since I was so anxious? Perhaps this person is far more powerful than me, or perhaps the situation is simply too troubling.

Or maybe it's a mix of both.

Just a few minutes ago, I was lamenting the lack of strong emotions, and now I was losing my composure in front of an unfamiliar figure who was not truly a stranger.

With a deep sigh, I moved to the table and took a seat across from her.

With a simple wave of her hand, a teapot and two cups of tea appeared in the center of the table. Surprisingly, this phenomenon no longer astonished me, having witnessed so many improbable things.

"A bit of tea, my dear?" she offered, picking up the teapot. I simply nodded in acceptance. She poured the tea into my cup with perfect precision, neither too much nor too little.

I took the cup in hand and delicately brought it to my lips. Sipping slowly, I allowed the tea to warm my palate, trying to ease the tension that had accumulated. The subtle and slightly bitter taste blended with a comforting sweetness, providing a moment of calm amidst this whirlwind of confusion.

I gently placed the cup on the table and, with a sigh, turned my gaze to my guest. It seemed, despite everything, that I was the guest in my own home.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked, finishing her own cup of tea.

"Yes, somewhat. However, I now prefer to avoid unnecessary detours. I would like a clear answer about your identity and the reason for your visit," I inquired with growing curiosity. I needed an answer, and it was time to put an end to the mysteries surrounding this unexpected meeting.

She crossed her legs with a certain grace, placing her hands on her thighs. Her gaze, though veiled, seemed fixed on me. She spoke again with a calm but firm voice:

"As I mentioned before, King Grey, answers will come in time. That is also why I keep my face hidden. Some truths require a moment to reveal themselves."

I nearly lost my composure at this repetitive response. Irritation mounted within me as I struggled to maintain my calm. The mystery surrounding this woman and her evasive words exhausted me. I wanted immediate answers, but she seemed to be toying with my nerves.

I opened my mouth to retort, letting my displeasure show, regardless of the effect it might have on her. "I remind you, miss, that you did not simply enter the home of an ordinary person, but the palace of a king of an entire nation. Even if you have the strength to do whatever you want, at least have the courtesy to tell me who you are."

Even after my frustrated demand, she remained impassive, looking at me as though I were a fool. This almost calculated indifference drove me mad.

It's paradoxical, isn't it? I am reputed to be so cold that people almost consider me a machine, incapable of expressing anything but indifference.

Yet this woman, by merely standing there, manages to unsettle my usual calm. Adding to that is this inexplicable hatred I feel towards her, which does not help.

"You know, we have some similarities, you and I," she said finally, breaking the heavy silence. Her voice was calm, almost soothing, in striking contrast to the tension between us.

Shaking off all the dark thoughts about her, I focused entirely on her words, ready to listen to what she had to say.

"Despite our obvious differences, our paths intersect in surprising ways. We share something," she paused, letting her words hang in the air. "You and I are bound by a dark and endless quest for vengeance. We have lost those dear to us, and it has driven us into a relentless struggle against those who have wronged us."

I narrowed my eyes, puzzled. How did she know about my quest for vengeance? It was a secret known only to my former friends. This woman, with her strange knowledge, seemed to have access to information that should have remained hidden. I wondered how she had discovered all this and why she used these revelations to unsettle me.

She rested a delicate hand on her chin, thinking for a moment before speaking in a monotone voice, yet not hiding a hint of melancholy:

"I had a dream that I wanted so desperately to fulfill, but my former companions rejected it. Their refusal led to conflicts and shaped my path, just as events have shaped yours."

I remained silent, crossing my arms in contemplation. She continued, undeterred by my silence.

"I understand that this might seem strange to you, but the quest for vengeance I am pursuing is the result of the betrayal by those I trusted. This betrayal pushed me onto a path of no return, just as the loss of the one you loved led you onto your own." She paused for a moment, her eyes still fixed ahead. "It is strange how our paths, so different in appearance, can intersect in such unexpected ways."

I merely nodded. Despite all the enigmas and mysteries surrounding this woman, it was becoming clear that she too was a victim, consumed by vengeance, just like me.

However, as she mentioned, there are notable differences between our situations. I have endured a personal injustice—the death of the maternal figure of my orphanage and the total destruction of that place which had provided me refuge. My path to vengeance was paved by the tragic and unjust loss of a crucial figure in my life.

For her, the situation seems more complex. What was this threatening dream that led her former companions to deem it necessary to stop her? Or is the betrayal she suffered merely a typical matter of disagreement among allies? Her motivations seemed not only deeper than mine but the context was still unclear.

Without regard for my response, she continued:

"But no matter how similar our paths may seem, each has its own journey. Do you wish to know the difference that separates us?"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her question. Without saying a word, I shook my head, clearly indicating that I did not yet have all the pieces of the puzzle. Her statement had left gaps in her story, and I could not yet discern the precise nature of our differences.

The atmosphere grew heavy once more, almost palpable, and even without being able to see her face, I felt a mocking smile in her words.

"It's simple, King Grey," she said with a tone of disdain. "You are a bloodthirsty monster, willing to do anything to satisfy your so-called vengeance. But is it really for vengeance that you act this way?"

"Monster, you took everything from me!"

"Murderer!"

"Your desire for vengeance has detroyed our lives, filthy monster!"

Monster.... that word resonated within me, marking me deeply. It consumed me, invading my consciousness and threatening to break me psychologically. Every time I heard that word, the voices of the countless victims whose lives I had taken echoed, cursing me with every name imaginable.

I accepted all the insults directed at me, knowing they were justified. I fully deserved them for the havoc I had wreaked. Every word, every accusation, was a reflection of the destruction I had sown around me. The cries of the victims clashed in my mind, their pain and anger condemning me endlessly. I bore the weight of my actions with an overwhelming heaviness, aware that nothing could ever erase the damage I had inflicted.

I did not want to be hypocritical. I had always sought to remain honest, even in the face of the harshest truths. However, there were times when I wished to be something else, to hide my own guilt and regrets behind a mask of coldness. The moments when I succumbed to this temptation of hypocrisy were rare but intense. In those times, the pain mingled with a burning desire to escape reality and protect myself from the cruel judgments I imposed upon myself.

I shook my head, trying to chase away the painful memories that threatened to overwhelm me. The tumultuous thoughts and emotions that these words had stirred up were jostling in my mind, and I desperately sought to regain a semblance of calm.

"Oh King Grey, why all the effort to feign indifference toward your victims? You claim not to want to be hypocritical, fully accepting responsibility for your actions. But isn't that a form of hypocrisy in itself? As if you were trying to project an appearance of true humanity while wallowing in guilt?" she asked with biting sarcasm.

Anger rose within me, almost ready to explode, but I fought hard to restrain myself from lunging at her and tearing her head off. Normally, such remarks left me indifferent. However, this woman seemed to have the gift of hitting directly at the sensitive points, as if she were my perfect counter.

I felt a lump forming in my throat, making it difficult to respond. My words were stuck, unable to cross the threshold of my lips. It was as if an invisible pressure weighed on me, making me waver between rage and helplessness.

She continued in a provocative tone, her gaze lost in the void, as if she were speaking of a universal truth:

"You want to make believe that you have become a broken man, a being of ice due to your trials. But in reality, you are a monster shaped from birth. You are simply seeking a scapegoat to justify your actions. And that poor director was the ideal victim to quench your thirst for destruction."

Her words were like sharp arrows, piercing my emotional defenses. She described me as inherently evil, and these accusations resonated painfully in my mind.

But that was not the most painful part. What was truly unbearable was that she had dared to suggest that I had used my maternal figure as a scapegoat to justify such a perverse desire.

That was too much!

"You filthy b*itch! You know NOTHING of what I feel for Director Willbeck! You know NOTHING of how much I wished things could go back to how they were before everything collapsed!"

My voice broke under the weight of anger, and I leapt up suddenly, feeling my muscles tense with uncontrollable rage. "And you dare to defame me, to call me a bloodthirsty monster! How can you claim to understand my pain when you have no idea what I have lost? Don't act like you know my LIFE!"

I struck the table with such force that the wood splintered into several pieces, shards of debris scattered around me, giving free rein to my fury. My heart pounded furiously, each beat resonating like a war drum in my chest.

The unknown woman remained impassive in the face of my anger, as if observing a child in the midst of a tantrum. Her gaze, devoid of any emotion, showed no surprise at my outburst.

"Unfortunately for you, King Grey," she said in a tone that oscillated between indifference and slight irritation, "I know much more about you than you know yourself."

Her words, delivered with cold assurance, seemed to mock the effort I had put into expressing my rage. Despite her apparent composure, a small sigh of irritation seemed to escape her lips, as if she found my reaction almost trivial.

"But you know nothing about me," she continued in a calm but firm voice. "You do not know what I have lived through, nor could you ever understand even a fraction of what I have endured. Therefore, you have no right to judge me or give your opinion."

"I don't care," I replied tersely. "Whether you have endured the worst hell or not, that does not concern me. You are the one who came to me, while I had no idea who you were. You present yourself as if we have known each other for a long time, and you accuse me of being the worst kind of monster?"

"But think carefully about what you are saying. If you have truly gone through the trials you speak of and lived as long as you claim, it is quite likely that you have committed atrocities far greater than mine. So, in the end, wouldn't you be the real hypocrite, the one who seeks to place the guilt on others to present a more acceptable appearance?"

A long silence fell over the room after my tirade. Observing the silence of this woman, a slight mocking smile appeared on my face, satisfied that I too had touched a sensitive nerve.

But my smile froze as I heard the woman's maniacal laughter, as if she had just heard the funniest thing in the world. Her laughter resonated with an almost destabilizing intensity, each burst amplifying the absurdity of the situation in her eyes.

"Hahaha, King Grey, how both amusing and fascinating you are," she declared, laughing, her eyes sparkling with cruel amusement. Her laughter, far from being a mere reaction, seemed to pierce the atmosphere, as if she found a deep irony in my words.

"You are absolutely right to say that I am not innocent, and I have never claimed otherwise," she said, wiping her eyes as if a tear had formed from her laughter. "But who said I was committing these atrocities myself? There are many ways to cause harm without dirtying one's hands."

Her tone, while still tinged with irony, grew slightly more serious, as if she were stepping away from the role of provocateur to offer a darker glimpse of her true intentions.

"What? What do you mean by 'not committing these atrocities myself'?" I asked, confusion coloring my voice. My mind struggled to grasp the meaning of her words, trying to understand what she was truly insinuating.

The woman straightened slightly, her gaze becoming more intense, as if she were about to reveal something crucial.

And I would have preferred not to hear it.

"It's not complicated to understand, King Grey," she said, her eyes shining with a dark glint. "There are two types of monsters. The first is born like you, with innate murderous impulses. But the second... is a monster who was once human but was broken and transformed into a beast seeking death and destruction."

I growled inwardly at her persistent way of describing me, while noting that her answers remained vague. "Be more specific," I said impatiently. "Explain to me how it is that you don't dirty your hands in all this according to your claims."

"And here I thought you were smarter than that? Anyway, I will make an exception for today," she declared with an almost amused tone. "It may seem very foolish, but for a second-type monster to exist... there must be a creator, right?"

At this declaration, it felt as though the world had stopped, each detail suddenly falling into place in my understanding.

"W-Wait?! Does that mean you—"

"Exactly, King Grey. I am merely a creator of monsters, created to fulfill my own revenge," she interrupted, hands on her chest, her head slightly tilted forward. Although her face was hidden, I would have sworn I saw a maniacal smile through the mysterious fog.

And then, another realization hit me.

The reason I feel such hatred towards her is that she is a reflection of what I might have become if I had been entirely consumed by vengeance. She is a monster, no... she is a demon.

I have no idea how many people she has manipulated into becoming puppets, or how many deaths she has on her conscience.

But one thing is clear in my mind.

She must die.

Without a moment's hesitation, I forged the most powerful Ki sword I could create, concentrating every fragment of energy available in my Ki reservoir. My Ki flared, enhancing my muscles and will to their maximum. In a leap, I charged at her with lightning speed, my blade aimed straight at her heart, like an unstoppable arrow.

I knew deep down that the power gap between us was immense, almost unimaginable. But how could I find peace knowing that such an abomination, a demon in human form, continues to exist?

Will I die? Most likely. Achieving my revenge? No, that's just a distant dream.

But perhaps, just perhaps, I would feel a hint of relief in attempting to eliminate this embodied evil. It would be enough to distinguish me from her, to avoid sinking into the same darkness.

Time seemed to slow as my blade approached, leaving only a few centimeters between it and her heart. Yet, she did not move, indifferent to my charge, to the threat I posed.

Her impassive calm struck me full force, as if my blade were nothing more than a harmless dart against a towering male elephant. An insect desperately trying to topple a mountain.

At that moment, a wave of weakness overwhelmed me like never before. Even in the face of Cecilia, with all her power, I had never felt such a chasm between myself and another. This woman, without lifting a finger, without even deigning to dodge, made me feel insignificant.

Before I could grasp what had just happened, a blinding flash suddenly filled my field of vision. The next instant, I was hurled to the far end of the room with unprecedented violence, my body crashing against the wall in a deafening crash.

The impact left a gaping crater in the already damaged wall. It was a miracle that my spine still held, though the pain coursing through my back made every breath more difficult.

But then, a violent coughing fit seized me, and I spat out blood. Not just a few drops, but thick, red jets flowing from my mouth, draining me of all energy. My body turned cold, and I felt my skin become an alarming shade of pale.

I couldn't understand why I was losing so much blood. But suddenly, every part of me was overwhelmed by indescribable pain. My instincts urged me to check the damage, and what | discovered chilled me to the bone. Five violet lances, created from an unknown energy, alien to anything I had ever faced-this was not Ki, it was something else, something more powerful and dangerous. They were embedded in my body, each striking my vital organs with surgical precision.

I couldn't breathe. Every attempt to inhale was stifled by the searing pain, cutting off all breath. Even a simple groan was impossible. It felt as if my body was draining every last bit of life, and I could feel the warm liquid flowing from my nostrils, my mouth, maybe my eyes. Blood. Everywhere. I w: covered in my own blood, as if my entire life was spilling out of me.

How long had it been since I had been thrown to the ground so violently, so quickly?

"It's painful, isn't it?" the unknown woman asked, her voice echoing like a distant murmur in my foggy mind. Although my vision was blurring and my senses growing weaker, l could still grasp the meaning of her words. But responding? It was impossible. The pain overwhelmed me, crushing everything else under its unbearable weight. My body was nothing but a mass of suffering, and my thoughts, as clear as they might have wanted to be, were drowned in this sea of torment.

"You don't need to worry" she said calmly, her voice sharp like a sweet but relentless blade. "As I mentioned from the beginning, I am not here to kill you. But even if I decided to take your life right now... you still wouldn't die."

Her words hung in the air, cold and terrifying. Each syllable resonated with a dark weight, a chilling certainty that made me shiver despite the pain numbing everything.

This woman.. she is truly frightening, on a level I have never encountered before.

"We will meet again, that is certain," she declared with an icy tone. "But remember this, King Grey; the trials that await you in the future will be far more dangerous and complex than anything you have endured so far. What you think is pain or despair is just a prelude to what lies ahead."

She spoke with such confidence, as if she knew exactly what was in store for me, and something that had dimmed flickered back to life.

Fear.

Her certainty filed me with a dull dread..

My vision grew increasingly blurry, the Contours of the room distorting, breaking as if everything I had experienced so far was nothing but a fragile illusion. The ground seemed to give way beneath my feet, and a final veil of shadow spread over my Consciousness.

Before the darkness completely engulfed me, I cast one last look at the cursed woman. Her face remained hidden, but I could sense her wicked smile, and as everything turned black, I heard her utter a final phrase... but my weakened senses could not grasp its meaning.

"Become stronger, ̷m̷̷y̷ ̷c̷̷h̷̷i̷̷l̷̷̷̷d̷."

Then, everything vanished.

____

Floating in an endless void, enveloped by total darkness, I lost all sense of time. Memories, sensations, everything seemed to dissolve in this crushing blackness. The absence of light and landmarks plunged me into a state of extreme confusion and disorientation.

It was as if l was neither conscious nor unconscious, simply suspended between two states, waiting for a revelation or an indefinite end. The echoes of pain and the woman's words still swirled in my head, but they seemed to belong to another world, distant and unreachable.

As I drifted in this colorless void, a white light emerged in the distance, piercing through the vast darkness. This light, both gentle and intense, radiated an unexpected warmth that contrasted sharply with the surrounding abyssal cold.

The allure of this light was irresistible, promising an escape. It was as if it offereda glimmer of hope in this oc of darkness. Without really understanding how, I felt irresistibly drawn toward it, like a shipwrecked sailor toward a lighthouse in a storm.

My field of vision gradually filled with this brilliant light, dispelling the darkness that enveloped me. Slowly, the intensity of the light diminished, and with laborious determination, I slowly opened my eyes. Before me w a ceiling. Its surface, marked by cracks and irregularities, emitted a soft glow, enough to illuminate my immediate surroundings.

I realized I was lying on a floor that was both cold and damp, covered with smalI stones and rough rocks. The sensation of the ground against my skin was unpleasant, but I could barely focus on this physical pain. With considerable effort, I slowly turned my head to survey the surroundings. Around me, rocky walls rose silently, enclosing the space of this cavern.

The strangeness of the situation struck me. Where am l? This underground cave seemed lost in a universe completely unknown to me. The coldness and dampness of the place contrasted sharply with the warmth that the light had brought.

I lay there, motionless, with a single thought resonating in my mind:

"Am I in hell?"