The perfect king

 
Long before the rise of unique monsters—before kingdoms burned and the skies split—there was only a man.
He was not born with fangs, nor wings, nor fire in his breath.He was born human. Frail. Mortal. Forgotten.
But when he opened his eyes for the first time, the world tilted.He didn’t cry.He listened.And in that silence, the earth trembled, as if something ancient recognized him.
The Perfect King had been born.
They never gave him a name. Names are for the remembered.But history remembers nothing except this:
He never bowed. Not to kings.Not to gods.Not even to death.
He grew not in wealth or nobility, but in chaos.Battles erupted wherever he walked—not because he invited them, but because fate seemed to test him endlessly.
And every time, he survived.
When monsters came to harvest flesh, he fought them bare-handed.When tyrants enslaved villages, he struck them down without a blade.He didn’t speak of peace.He enforced it.
Those who followed him weren’t soldiers.They were victims. Survivors. People who believed because they had nothing else left.
He gave them no promises.But still, they followed.
"A man who walks into hell alone does not need worship.He needs space."
No one knows where he learned to fight.But they say his hands remembered battles from lifetimes he never lived.His speed defied arrows.His mind moved faster than sorcery.And when his body moved—lightning followed.
He forged weapons from the ruins of ancient beasts.They shattered mountains.They carved rivers.
But he never kept them long.
"A perfect king is not crowned.A perfect king is chosen by war."
On the day he turned twenty-one, a celestial tear opened above him.A god, amused by the mortal’s legend, came down and offered him divine power.
The man declined.
He did not want to be a god.He wanted to prove he didn’t need to be.
And so the god left—defeated not by battle, but by silence.
Now, they whisper of him.
A silhouette with a jagged crown and no kingdom.No voice, no shrine, no weakness.
He does not need prayers.He does not need fear.
He is the man who once stood against the sky and watched it blink first.