Chapter 20 - Departing of a Psychopathic King

The day after the Grand Festival, Figura reveals their true form to King Clovis. The two of them stand on the royal terrace, high above the castle grounds, where the Triumph Tulips bask in the afternoon sun. Below, the capital sprawls out, bustling but oblivious.

Clovis stands partly in shadow, his frail fat frame leaning on the stone railing, while Figura stands bathed in golden light, every detail of their deadly grace illuminated.

They have spoken for hours -- Figura explaining the looming upheavals of the world and the role Maltrex will play in the chaos to come. Clovis listens with astonishment, dread, and, finally, quiet acceptance. “…Is it the end for my kingdom?”

“The future might bring the end and birth of many kingdoms alike. I’ll do my best to see that none are like yours.”

The king sighs, his gaze shifting from the city below to the tulips swaying gently in the breeze. “How foolish I was not to order the Labyrinth’s exploration.”

“The entire kingdom of Maltrex is foolish in that sense. The world has long moved past the fear of the Auralis Gate. Your prejudice, spitting on your neighbors, your propaganda, all of it has kept your people ignorant, clinging to the past.”

“And I was an even greater fool for not recognizing my own daughter. Hohoho~.” Clovis chuckles, though his expression is rich with melancholy. “How senile have I gotten in my old age?”

Their exchange carries the somber intimacy of a confession shared at the end of a life. “…Do you think I’m a bad person, King Clovis?”

“To my country, you’re a villain. Good or bad, you’re an enemy to our peace.”

“Perhaps you’re right. But isn’t it strange? In Burrya, my hometown, I’m a hero. How absurd it is to play both roles at once. Villain and hero, along with many masks for my same face.”

The king nods thoughtfully, his smile faint. “Perhaps everyone in this world has a bit of good and evil in them.”

“Tch.” Figura’s expression hardens. “It frustrates me, King Clovis. My little sister died, and yet you live to age peacefully. Actually, that’s not it. That’s not what really claws at me. What truly frustrates me is that you seem too gentle to have ordered the destruction of my hometown. I’ve spoken with you for weeks now, and I see no evil in your nature, even though the assault on Burrya was unforgivable.”

The king laughs softly, his frailty evident in the way his shoulders tremble. “Feeble and weak, yes. Look at me -- an old man whose muscles have turned to fat.”

“It’s not about your appearance. It’s about your nature. Is it because I stood here as your daughter? I don’t think it is.”

“What kind words from my executioner. Let me refresh my mind for a second. ‘Too gentle of a person to kill others,’ is your dilemma about me, right? But, Figura, the answer is simple: I can kill because I am a king. To protect, to conquer, to prosper. A ruler shares the sins of their commands. Your retribution isn’t misplaced.”

Figura’s expression narrows, any humor vanishing from their face. “…So you ordered the rape and slaughter of my entire hometown because you’re a king?”

“…Hm? Do you believe a kind, old man like me would order such an atrocity? I, who spend my days tending flowers? You think of me as evil? What about it? Even if we entertain the thought, it would only mean that I stand as a shining example of what it means to be human.”

His response stirs bitterness in Figura, a sense that Clovis’s counter rings too dark. Figura readily disagrees with such a thought experiment, yet the king continues to smile with disarming warmth. “You, who take many forms… I thought you would’ve known. Young people often misunderstand their elders. Forgive me if I seem out of touch. Let us go back to your earlier question: I can say with certainty that a bad person wouldn’t have spent that much time entertaining a sickly old man like me. A bad person wouldn’t have kept me company by my bedside and listened intently to my ramblings. If it was all an act, I believe your sympathy is real, Figura. My aged eyes allow me to see that truth in you. I thank you for this. …Therefore, before you kill me, could you spare this old man a final favor?”

“And that is?”

“Could you let me see my family again, one last time? My lovely daughter and wife, the real ones.”

“…Sorry. I can’t allow that, even as a hero of Burrya.”

“Is that so…?”

“Yes. My apologies. But if you have something you wish to tell them, I could deliver the message for you.”

“…Great. I’ll settle for airing my grievances. There were so many opportunities to spend more time with them. My daughter is always so busy… When you took her form and began visiting me more often, I truly was glad. From the very bottom of my heart, I was glad.”

Tears start rolling down the old king’s cheeks. They are tears of sorrow, but also tears of acceptance. “So tell them… Tell them that I love them more than they will ever know.”

“Of course. Rest assured that I’ll carry on your message. For you, and your magnificent end, I’ll be sure to them.”

“Thank you, my friend…”

“Yeah… No problem.” Figura shifts behind King Clovis’s back. “Don’t look towards me.” [[So it’s not the king, but mostly Queen Minerva and Princess Glace?]]

The king gives a final, silent nod. He looks at the flowers, the Triumph Tulips that reflect memories of his past. The memories of meeting his wife, his marriage, the birth of the Princess, watching his daughter grow, and happily getting old together with his wife…

And King Clovis smiles. Even if he is a little unwise, he lived a good life. He thinks back on his very early memories of when he first met his wife in the middle of a voyage. He also remembers the joyful war with Burrya… The hilarious order of mass rape against the surrounding villages… The jubilant torture… The amusing experimentation on human livestock---- How old was the town chief’s son at the time? And this is over his younger sister…

King Clovis: [Hohohoho~--]

Crack. Figura’s short sword swiftly slashes across the flesh and bone of the king’s neck, delivering the most painless death they could. The sound of skin tearing and bone cracking against the blade is faint. There are few to no threads, muscle, and veins left dangling from the neck opening, just a nearly perfect, horizontal cut.

Catching the upside-down dismembered head in one hand, Figura steadies the lifeless body with the other. They carefully aim the gushing blood into the soil of the flowerpots, ensuring that as little as possible stains the pristine stone of the terrace. Despite their efforts, thick droplets spatter the floor and cling stubbornly to Figura’s once-immaculate clothes.

Figura’s lips press into a thin line, trembling slightly as their emotions begin to surface. “Now my good friend has been reduced to a mere object…”

They cluck their tongue in agitation, their gaze browsing between the bloodied flowerpots and the head in their hand. Tears form, unbidden, clouding their sharp eyes. For a moment, the urge to destroy everything overwhelms them -- smash the tulips, kick the pots, scream over the silence.

“This oppressive weight… It’s like the end of a brilliant stage play. The curtains have closed, and I can no longer cheer for the wonderful actor. So why… Why do I still feel this pain? Damn it all to hell…”

Their voice cracks with grief, not necessarily for King Clovis but for the fleeting, brilliant life that has already been extinguished. Figura clutches the king’s body tight, breath shuddering as they force themselves calm.

“Without question, I hate it. I hate seeing off a beautiful actor. If only they could perform a little longer…”

Figura wipes their tears with their shoulder. Luka will arrive soon, teleporting to assist with the cleanup. When he does, Figura resolves to ensure the king’s remains are treated with the utmost care. Whatever Clovis’s crimes, this final act deserves a fitting conclusion -- a funeral that honors the role he played, even if his legacy is steeped in atrocity.

Within two hours, Figura takes King Clovis’s form and reclines in the late monarch’s bed. The royal bedroom is unchanged, untouched by death. No one suspects the truth.

Figura closes their eyes and reaches out telepathically.

King Clovis (Figura): [Leviathan. Are you there?]

[Leviathan of Envy, here.]

[Activate your Gift of Envy for me. I need to see the king’s memories. All of them.]

[Understood. Give me a moment.]

Figura pauses, catching the faint quiver in her telepathic vocalization. [Are you alright? You don’t sound like yourself.]

[I’m fine.] Her response is quick, almost curt, but it carries something unsaid.

[Leviathan.] Figura’s tone softens. [Did Brawler do something to upset you? Is something else bothering you?]

The pause stretches. Then, her voice breaks through, fragile and raw. [Sniffle*… I said I’m fine, okay? Just focus on your task.]

[You’re definitely not fine, but… okay. Let’s talk about it later, alright?]

Leviathan activates the Gift of Envy. The world sharpens, and Figura’s vision floods with visions of King Clovis’s memories. It’s not gradual -- it’s a tidal wave of vivid, gut-wrenching moments. Triumph Tulips in bloom, royal banquets, hollow smiles -- Slaughter. Torture. Experimentation. The memories coil like barbed wire around Figura’s mind, squeezing until it’s unbearable.

Their pupils dilate. Chest heaving as acidity surges up their throat, they dash onto the terrace and collapse over a flowerpot, retching violently. The tulips --once symbols of serenity -- are now splattered with tears and bile.

Leviathan materializes beside them, her form radiant but her expression deeply troubled. “Figura! Hey…! Talk to me!”

“Gggghhh… Thanks… Leviathan. I just--” They double over again. “The memories… They’re unbearable--”

Leviathan kneels beside them, her hands trembling as she gently rubs Figura’s back. “I… I didn’t mean for this. I’m sorry.” Leviathan tears up a little, as she can’t see the memories she had granted Figura access to, a terrible guilt taking her.

Figura thought they knew everything. They thought they knew! They thought they knew!

Figura shakes their head weakly, “…No, it’s not your fault. I needed to see… I needed to know… It’s not you. It’s… King Clovis said he had gone a bit senile…? From the start, he really was just a cruel murderer who disgraced the meaning of a true king… I’ve never, never known a psychopath as insane as him, damn it…! I regret giving him a painless death. And the Queen and Princess… they’re nearly as bad… What the hell is wrong with this disgusting, tyrannical family?!”

In this awful moment, Figura decides they will see the mission to kill the Maltrex royal family be completed, through and through. The Nation Elite, who ruined the meaning of peace by covering it up with justice and allowed Figura’s hometown to fall in favor of protecting greater world peace -- They, too, will be part of Figura’s gambit.

“And now I have to take this vile form?? Fine! I’ll never reach the dreadful evils that you committed. But for all the shit you’ve done, I won’t hesitate to play your psychopathic nature to perfection.”