He felt his body slip back into consciousness as Azula walked past his fallen body, dragging his claymore across the ground. His hand gripped his core, his knees weakening, but his smirk grew stronger. He felt victorious. Now, he intended to scare the white-haired boy, just enough to make an escape plan.
His breath struggled, groaning and gasping for air didn't suit his new plan—plus, the brat was smiling.
Screw it. I'll just go all out. I'm sure I can win.
"There's no point tryna attack me."
"You say that—are you scared?" Azula snorted.
"Why would you aim for the second when you couldn't beat the first?"
The silence was dreadful; it felt like it lasted forever. Zigmo took step after step, his footsteps echoing in the wake. Each step felt like judgement closing in. Azula tried to form bravado, tried to hold confidence, but it was clear to even a child that he was panicking. It wasn't just because of the boy—it was his presence. It reminded him of… the boy's father?! Rage surged in Azula, and he roared with audacious anger.
"How dare that useless vermin! He gains the special body from one of the great Lords and dares to give it to his descendant? I ordered the body to go to my offspring, and he da—!"
His words strained. His mouth twisted as he raised his head, staring up at Zigmo, who had grown massively—eight feet tall now, weighing around sixteen stone. He seemed to dwarf the king.
Acting off a terrible instinct, Azula charged, claymore in hand. The air itself collapsed into his blade as he summoned another—twin claymores, forged from steel and wind. He launched a double slash, tearing the atmosphere apart.
Zigmo caught the strike, his hand tightening as dark energy purged the wind. Poison flooded the air, shaping into a blade. Before Azula could react, Zigmo blitzed past him, slashing across his chest and sending him flying into the wall. He didn't waste a second—fists rained down, dozens of blows. Azula blocked some, but the rest broke through, shattering bone. A final uppercut cracked his skull; his brain split, his mind went blank.
"Aaashugraghhh… you… brassturr…" Azula slurred.
Zigmo raised his hand, mana roaring in a violent surge. Purple energy twisted and boiled, forming shapes at his shoulders. More and more, they took form—four monstrous arms, bursting with dark power. He roared, voice shaking the ground, as six hands formed together into a blade. He clutched the poisoned claymore in one hand, the new weapon in the other.
"Dark Blade of Nightrot… charge your energy. Kill my prey, and find my vengeance!"
A devastating slash erupted, splitting Azula in half and leveling everything in sight. The castle collapsed into ruin. As the dust settled, Azula's body crumbled, burning, swelling, flaming all at once. His final curses bled into the air before fading out of existence.
Zigmo's head fell. Josen could feel the grief radiating from him. He hugged him, even though it looked like he was holding a giant teddy bear. Zigmo wiped away a forming tear with his cloth.
"I don't know if I'll ever see him again… sniffle…"
"What I—"
"Hey," Zigmo cut in. "You'll be fine. Push forward. Hone your power. One step at a time."
Josen walked past him, towards the disfigured throne of the fallen king. Picking up the crown, he turned back. "Bow." Zigmo obeyed. Josen placed the crown on his head with a smile.
"And just do the next right thing—be a king your kingdom will love."
"Doing this without you will be tough."
"But you'll be fine, right?"
"…Right."
"Now, let's go. After all, a king needs to make his first grand speech."
After freeing Ephilia from her cell, Zigmo sent Josen to announce the new order. Josen blinked across the kingdom, market to market, street to street, shouting the same message:
"All must listen! Your new king awaits you all. He is here to listen and to serve. Go to city hall now!"
Hundreds, then thousands gathered, anxious and armed. Torches burned in the night. Fear and bitterness carved into their faces after years of oppression—most didn't believe in hope anymore.
"What do you want with our kingdom?" an unknown orc shouted. "Every time you brutes fight for supremacy, you slaughter us because we're too weak to fight back!"
The words struck the crowd like thunder, stirring their hearts.
Zigmo took a deep breath, steadying himself. Then he began.
"This kingdom has been home to all of us. Some under different conditions. Some barely making it to dinner. Some swimming in gold. Some famous for beauty. Some known… for strength."
He paused, staring at the sky, eyes wet. Ephilia's hand touched his back, giving him the support to continue.
"But one thing we commoners share—we were never favoured. Never honoured. No respect. No choices. No freedom. I was born and raised in the outskirts, just because my parents loved each other. Because they came from different classes, we had nothing.
Nothing but family. Until THEY took that away from me. They worked my father to death. They imprisoned my mother. They poisoned me. And used me for their sick pleasure and entertainment."
He dropped to one knee. Ephilia followed. Josen, drained from teleportation, fell too.
"Please… accept me as your king. I promise I will make this a great nation of equality for all. No council of tyrants. Elections for leaders. A kingdom fair and successful… if we make it so."
Silence.
Then the same orc fell to his knee. Others followed. Until the entire crowd bowed.
"Yes, my king."
"Yes, sire."
The roar of the people shook the city.