Berkimhum
The Royal Palace.
Step!
Step!
Step!
Claire strode forward with purpose, her purple eyes burning like twin embers fueled by rage and frustration. She had just returned from visiting her fief, only to hear whispers of the mad prince being lost within the Dark Continent—a place no sane person would dare tread without an army at their back and foolish adventurers looking for fame and glory. And Claire needed no genius deduction to know who was responsible for this mess.
"He finally fucking showed his true colors," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with venomous sarcasm.
She had always known Henry—since they were children. A brain too big for his soul to handle, a volatile mixture that bred one kind of man: a man who believed he alone knew what was right. Dangerous—not just to himself but to everyone around him.
'...I told that brackish idiot to be more careful, but instead, he was busy getting laid with his fucking maid,' she grumbled internally, her lips curling into a sneer as if replaying scenes she hadn't witnessed but could imagine vividly.
Knock!
Knock!
"Your Highness, I am here!" Her voice cut through the heavy oak door like a blade slicing silk. The royal guards stationed outside shifted uneasily, ready to intervene should chaos erupt—but Claire silenced them with a mere wave of her hand. They knew better than to question her authority. To many, she wielded more influence than even the queen herself.
From within the chamber came a sigh—long, labored, and tinged with resignation.
"Come in..." The voice echoed hollowly, brittle as dry leaves crunching beneath boots.
The guards hesitated briefly before opening the doors wide enough for Claire to storm through. She entered uninvited, as though the room belonged to her rather than the king. But the moment she stepped inside, her anger faltered slightly. What greeted her wasn't the regal figure she expected—it was a shell of a man barely clinging to life.
His skin was parchment-dry, half of his hair gone, replaced by patches of raw scalp. His condition… it had worsened dramatically since their last encounter. Without hesitation, Claire closed the distance between them, stopping inches away from where Henry sat slumped in his chair.
"....Henry," she whispered, her tone softening despite herself. "Your condition... it's getting worse."
Henry raised his head slowly, revealing a gold mask covering half his face. Beneath it lay something hidden—something he refused to show the world. He offered a weak smile, though it looked more like a grimace now. "...It's okay. Just getting old," he rasped, his once-commanding voice reduced to a fragile whisper.
"I guess you're here for Atlas?"
"...Yeah," Claire replied sharply, leaning forward until her palms pressed against the desk separating them. "You named him king—even temporarily—and then sent him straight to his death. So tell me, what the fuck were you scheming again?"
Cough!
Cough!
Henry winced, clutching his chest as another fit wracked his frail body. Claire watched impassively, though her jaw tightened ever so slightly. She knew exactly how much pain he was in—and yet part of her felt nothing but cold satisfaction. Let him suffer. He deserved it.
"Yes... I'm going to be straight with you," Henry said after recovering, his gaze locking onto hers. "You've always been able to spot my lies." His voice carried a note of weary honesty, stripped bare of pretense. "I wanted him to fall, for Lara to grow up, take responsibility, and relieve me of this cursed crown already."
"But..." His words trailed off, weighed down by regret. "He has the same blood running through his veins..."
Claire tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. "What do you mean?" she demanded, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite him. Her posture remained poised, though her mind raced furiously behind those piercing violet eyes.
"...He's still alive," Henry murmured, a faint trace of pride flickering across his weathered features. It was almost imperceptible beneath layers of decay, but Claire caught it nonetheless.
For a brief second, her eyes lit up like fireworks. Then, just as quickly, she composed herself, reclining back into her seat with calculated nonchalance. Inside, however, her thoughts churned violently. Alive. He was actually alive. Alive within the Dark continent. That changed everything.
"Henry..." she called casually, resting her chin on intertwined fingers. "I don't know why I'm saying this, but I have an idea for your..... problem."
Henry blinked, surprised. This was unexpected. Claire—the master manipulator, the snake coiled tightly around every court intrigue—was offering help? He studied her closely, searching for cracks in her facade. After all, a snake recognized its own kind when it saw one.
Not Isabella, drunk on power and ambition.
Not Atlas, smart and mature yet lacking the ruthlessness required to rule.
No, these descriptions fit none other than the gorgeous Marquise seated before him. Slowly, deliberately, Claire leaned closer, whispering her proposition directly into his ear.
Henry's eyes widened incrementally as each word sank in. By the time she finished, his expression mirrored someone staring into the abyss—and seeing it stare back.
"..."
Silence stretched taut between them, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the room. Henry's mind worked furiously, piecing together implications and consequences. Finally, he turned to look at her once more. Those violet eyes gleamed dangerously, bordering on obsession.
'...What did you do, Atlas?' he thought bitterly. 'What. did. you. do?'
Laying back in his chair, Henry forced a smile—one meant to keep her intrigued. "...Lara," he began cautiously. "You know her obsession with him. Why do you still—"
"That's your problem to manage," Claire interrupted coolly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I gave you a solution for your fucking problem, Henry. Do you want to make a deal or not? Think wisely, Cousin."
Her tone left no room for negotiation. This was a command disguised as a choice.
"You don't have much time," she continued, her voice dropping lower, colder. "Lara will be the ruler while your son will still be alive. I know you still love your son, Henry. No matter what, he's still your blood."
Henry rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of madness pressing down upon him. "...Deal," he muttered finally, defeated.
Claire's eyes gleamed triumphantly as she extended her hand. Their grip lingered longer than necessary, sealing the pact with unspoken promises and shared ambition.
She had come intending to demand military intervention for Atlas's rescue or at least reprive his death body—but greed had won out as it always did. Now, with this deal, she could march her own army into the Dark Continent. No political drama. No bureaucratic delays. Just victory—or vengeance.
'...Stay alive, Atlas,' she thought fiercely, rising from her seat. 'I'm coming to save you. And you better be grateful for it.'
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.
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Southern Gates of the Dark Continent
Lara's breaths came in shallow gasps as she stood at the precipice of the valley, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. The journey here had been a blood-soaked odyssey—monster after monster slaughtered without mercy, their bodies left behind like breadcrumbs marking her path to this cursed land. Now, before her stretched the dark expanse of the Dark Continent, shrouded in an endless sea of fog that seemed alive, writhing under the waning light of dusk.
"So this is it," muttered Beta, the archer, smearing purple ichor from his cheek with the back of his hand. His voice carried awe rather than fear, though his eyes betrayed the weight of what they faced.
Denish planted his massive sword deep into the ground, leaning on its hilt for support. Sweat dripped down his brow, but he didn't bother wiping it away. Instead, he scanned the horizon warily, searching for threats. For now, silence reigned—an eerie calm before whatever storm awaited them.
The berserker flopped onto a boulder nearby, exhaustion etched into every line of his scarred face. "…The Dark Continent…" he began, pausing mid-sentence when realization dawned too late. "Are you sure your Highness? Did the Mad Pri—"
He froze, horror flashing across his features as everyone turned to stare at him. Even Denish shot him a sharp glance, silently chastising him for uttering the forbidden phrase in Lara's presence.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," the berserker stammered hastily, bowing his head. "I didn't mean to disrespect…"
But no apology reached Lara. She was lost in thought—or perhaps something more primal. Her gaze was fixed on the red streaks staining the edge of the valley, her system analyzing the residue as blood. A gut-deep certainty surged within her, electrifying her veins.
"He's near…" she whispered hoarsely, gripping her sword tighter. "I can feel it. Let's g—"
Before she could finish, the ground beneath them buckled violently, throwing her off balance. Panic flared as tremors rippled outward, shaking loose rocks and sending dust spiraling into the air.
"EVERYBODY GET DOWN! IT'S A HEAVY EARTHQUAKE!" Lara shouted, bracing herself against the chaos.
HAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
A deafening roar tore through the atmosphere, reverberating in their ears like a death knell. It wasn't just sound—it was a force, a tangible wave of dread crashing over them all.
"What's happening? Is… is it some monster?" one of the mages asked, clutching her staff tightly to steady herself.
"No," Beta replied grimly, his instincts screaming louder than any rational explanation. "This isn't just some monster."
His words hung heavy in the air, laden with generations of inherited dread passed down among archers who'd faced horrors beyond comprehension. He turned toward Lara, urgency written across his face.
"We need to run, Your Highness. We need to escape!"
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
And then they saw it—a colossal shape emerging from the fog far ahead, so enormous that logic itself crumbled in its wake. Something incomprehensible, defying the laws of nature. Its body undulated like liquid shadow, scales glinting crimson in the fading sunlight. Three glowing eyes pierced through the haze, each larger than a man.
Beta's jaw dropped open, unable to process what he was seeing. His mind screamed denial, but his eyes refused to lie.
'…the mad prince?' he thought wildly, watching as the beast descended closer, its massive form blotting out the sky.
"BROTHER!!!" Lara screamed, desperation clawing at her throat. "BROTHER!!!!!!!" her voice disregarding the beast's actions like that was not of her importance.
Her cry echoed futilely as the behemoth dove downward, vanishing back into the mist almost as quickly as it appeared. The quake subsided abruptly, leaving only trembling legs and racing hearts in its aftermath.
"…Brother?... Your Highness?" Denish questioned cautiously, using his sword to pull himself upright while steadying the mage beside him.
Confusion swirled around them, thick enough to choke on. But Beta remained frozen, staring wide-eyed at the dissipating fog where the creature had vanished.
"He was there," he murmured finally, his voice barely audible yet carrying the weight of revelation. He pointed toward the disheveled mist, trembling visibly. "Prince Atlas. I saw Prince Atlas."
The group erupted into chaos, disbelief colliding with shock.
"What?"
"Beta, what the fuck are you saying?" the berserker growled, his voice laced with incredulity.
"Riding that… that 'thing'," Beta continued, his tone bordering on hysteria. "Prince Atlas. Riding that beast."
Silence fell over the group like a suffocating blanket. They wanted to dismiss his claim—needed to— Even if their leader had said such words, they wouldnt beive it, but Infamous for his precision, but it was Beta who spoke, his unshakable focus. If anyone could mistake reality for fantasy, it wouldn't be him.
"...oh lord in heavens," someone whispered, breaking the spell momentarily.
"…"
"…"
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Pictures of the characters are now available on my discord. link down below:
https://discord.gg/yrnQskUgPF