Chapter 0 — Prologue

Chapter 0 — Prologue

Why is everything going wrong?

King Sigvald clutched his head with both hands. Problems kept piling up one after another, not giving him a single moment of peace. It had been less than a year since he ascended the throne—not even a full year had passed.

And it was precisely now that the hardest times had begun.

When he was still a prince, the struggle for the throne had seemed like the pinnacle of all trials. Intrigues, conspiracies, betrayals, sacrifices—he had gone through all of it. He had shed blood, sacrificed alliances, crushed his own doubts for the sake of the crown.

He had thought that once he ascended the throne, everything would be left behind. That power would bring control. That his enemies would disappear.

But now he could not even see a way out of the situation.

And for the first time in all this time, a treasonous thought flashed through his mind:

perhaps he should have remained a prince… instead of fighting for the crown.

Suddenly, the castle trembled once more.

At the moment, he was in relative safety, but most of the royal castle had already been destroyed because of a single traitor—Alisar.

He had believed that in the future, Alisar and his team would become a reliable pillar of the country. For him. Especially for him. That under Sigvald’s rule, the country would prosper.

But Alisar had betrayed him and come here himself—to kill Sigvald.

Damn traitor.

No matter. For his betrayal, he would pay with his life. He and his team would be destroyed. Their heads would decorate the castle walls.

And after that, the king would order the execution of everyone who had been close to Alisar. It did not matter who. Even the cities where they had lived would be wiped from the face of the earth—for daring to associate with a traitor.

It would become a lesson for future rebels.

He was furious. But deep inside, fear was growing.

What if his loyal defenders lost?

Unthinkable… and yet the thought kept returning.

At first, he had been certain that his elite guard would easily defeat Alisar. But more than ten minutes had already passed, and the battle was still ongoing, and the destruction only intensified.

"My king! News from the front lines!" one of the guards exclaimed, rushing into the throne hall with a scroll in his hands.

"Report. What is happening?" the king said in a harsh voice, trying not to show his fear to his subordinates.

Now more than ever, he needed good news from the front.

The soldier unrolled the scroll received through a magical communication artifact. But for some reason, his hands began to tremble, and beads of sweat ran down his forehead.

"What is it? Read," the king ordered coldly.

From the soldier’s behavior alone, he already understood—the news would be bad.

"The forward forces, consisting of 3,000,000 soldiers… have been destroyed," the soldier said in a slightly trembling voice.

Sigvald fell silent, processing what he had heard.

"What do you mean ‘destroyed’? A forward army of 3,000,000 soldiers? Are you mocking me? This is not the time for jokes! For such words, I will execute you and your entire family!" the king shouted.

"N-no, Your Majesty… I am only reading what is written in the scroll…" the soldier replied in a shaking voice, dropping to his knees.

"How can an army of 3,000,000 be destroyed? Read further! Where did they retreat? We must give them time to regroup and send reinforcements. In the next battle, they must win," the king said, almost convincing himself.

"Your Majesty…" the soldier’s voice trembled even more.

"Continue. I want to know where they retreated!"

The soldier swallowed.

"The troops… did not retreat. All 3,000,000 soldiers are dead. The commander-in-chief, Lucian, has also fallen. No one survived."

A heavy, oppressive silence hung over the throne hall.

"Do you understand what you are saying? Lucian is the most experienced military general! He fought in hundreds of battles, participated in countless wars, and always won! Under his command were dozens of former B-rank adventurers and hundreds of C-rank adventurers. They could not have died! Especially with 3,000,000 soldiers there!" the king roared.

The soldier only remained on his knees, head lowered, without saying a word.

"Then who sent this message if they are all dead?" the king asked after a short pause.

"The message was transmitted through the Adventurers’ Guild," the soldier replied.

"Damn it… I should have banned that organization immediately after ascending the throne…" the king muttered.

At that moment, he noticed that the tremors shaking the castle had stopped. He relaxed slightly.

Finally. That meant the traitor—Alisar—had been destroyed. Now his personal guard should enter the hall with the traitor’s head.

"Stop! Entry is forbidden!" soldiers shouted from beyond the throne hall doors.

With a loud crash, the doors burst open.

"Oh… It seems I’m not at a good time," a male voice sounded. Cold. Calm.

At that voice, goosebumps ran down Sigvald’s spine.

So… his personal guard had lost.

Even his strongest subordinate, Corvell, had failed.

"Stay where you are!" one of the guards shouted, drawing his sword.

There were only about twenty of the king’s personal guards in the throne hall.

But Sigvald understood perfectly—they would not be able to do anything against Alisar.

Against that monster.

The guards surrounded Alisar, but he did not even pay attention to them. His gaze was directed only at the king—at Sigvald.

"Who bribed you? For how much gold did you sell your king’s head, traitor?" Sigvald asked coldly.

"Traitor?" Alisar repeated with a faint, almost mocking smile. "How can I be a traitor? And besides… you were never my king. I am not even a citizen of this country, and I never was."

A heavy silence filled the throne hall.

"And if we are speaking of traitors…" Alisar continued, "then the greatest and most vile traitor here is you."

"Whom have I betrayed, you wretched monster?" the king hissed.

"Oh… it seems you truly do not understand. But the question ‘whom did you betray?’ is phrased incorrectly. It would be more accurate to ask: ‘Whom did you not betray?’" Alisar’s voice remained calm. "You betrayed your people. Your family. Your allies. You betrayed everyone—for the sake of your greed."

The king’s face twisted.

"I see… you are one of those pathetic philosophers who love throwing around words like ‘justice’ and ‘honor.’ Such people never understand what politics is. What the struggle for power truly means," Sigvald said with cold contempt.

"Especially someone like you," he continued. "You do not even know what fear of death is. Do you know what it means to grow up afraid to eat a piece of bread or take a sip of water because it might be poisoned? Do you know what that is? No, you do not. Everything I did, I did to survive. And when I became powerful enough, I tried to make things better for my country. Under my rule, it would have prospered."

"Fear of death…" Alisar repeated quietly.

He smirked.

"I know very well what that is. Yes, I was never afraid of being poisoned. But I had other fears. For example, running away from a level 1 rabbit so it would not tear me apart." He smiled faintly. "I was lucky. I met good people. They saved my life."

"Are you mocking me?" the king hissed. "Afraid of a level 1 rabbit?"

It infuriated him that Alisar was laughing at him in the final minutes of his life.

"I told you the truth," Alisar replied calmly. "But enough. I did not come here to talk. I came to kill you. So you may as well not resist. The outcome will be the same. Although…" he tilted his head slightly. "Resist. It will be more interesting that way."

"Stay where you are!" one of the guards shouted.

Unable to withstand the tension, one of the guards lunged forward, attacking Alisar.

In the next instant, there was a strange gust of wind—or something like it. Sigvald instinctively shut his eyes. The air struck his face, carrying something warm and wet.

When he opened his eyes, the walls of the throne hall were painted red. Not just red—they were drenched in blood. Torn body parts, entrails, fragments of armor lay scattered across the marble floor. A nauseating stench instantly filled the hall.

The twenty guards who had surrounded Alisar just a moment ago had turned into bloody pieces of flesh.

Sigvald slowly exhaled.

He had almost accepted his death, but one thing would not let him rest. He had to know—before he died.

"Before death… may I ask one question?" King Sigvald said.

He hoped that Alisar would answer.

"Yes. Ask," Alisar said, slowly approaching the throne.

"Why do you want to kill me? Yes, I understand—many people died because of my ascent to the throne. Many sacrifices were made. But why now? And why you? I do not believe that anything I did even touched you or your loved ones."

Alisar stopped.

"You probably will not even remember. For you, it was merely a small intrigue. A political game. But once, by your order, several villages were ravaged. I lived in one of them. Back then, at the hands of bandits, the person who meant more to me than anyone else was killed."

His voice trembled slightly.

"She was everything to me."

"So what?" the king shouted angrily. "You are going to kill me, the king of this country, over some woman?"

Rage flooded him. The reason for his death—a mere village girl?

"You remain the same vile bastard to the very end," Alisar said coldly. "It is time to finish this."

He disappeared.

In the next moment, he appeared right in front of the throne. His hand shot toward Sigvald’s throat—but stopped about thirty centimeters away.

A barrier flared up around the king.

Alisar’s palm touched the invisible obstruction, and sparks burst at the point of contact. A surge of energy ran along his arm and spread through his entire body.

The king smirked despite his fear.

"Yes… perhaps I will die today. But do not think you will remain alive. You will die with me," Sigvald said.

The barrier began to shine brighter.

Yes… now King Sigvald was at least somewhat satisfied.

His killer would die alongside him.

What had stopped Alisar was not merely a protective artifact of the throne. It was an ancient mechanism created by the first king—a hero who had founded the country with his own hands.

If anyone managed to reach the throne and the king sitting upon it—not only the king would die. The assassin would die. Everyone in the castle would die. And even the capital would be wiped from the face of the earth.

It sounded insane.

But the calculation was simple: if the king was killed on the throne, then the capital had already fallen. The enemy had seized the heart of the country. And in that case, the artifact must destroy the invaders—even at the cost of the capital itself.

Now, however, it had been activated for a single enemy.

The barrier shone brighter and brighter.

Sigvald could barely see Alisar through the blinding light. He closed his eyes and prepared for the end.

A moment—and death would come without pain. He would simply disappear.

But suddenly, the barrier’s glow began to flicker.

The king opened his eyes.

What happened?

Is the artifact breaking?

No… something was wrong.

The light within the barrier began to change direction. Streams of energy converged toward a single point—toward Alisar’s hand.

As if… the barrier was not destroying him…

But he was absorbing the barrier.

One second. Another.

The energy of the ancient artifact, capable of erasing half the capital, was being drawn into Alisar’s body.

After several moments, the barrier vanished.

It simply went out.

As if it had run out of mana.

Alisar flexed his fingers slightly.

"Not a bad item," he said calmly. "I think I will take this for myself. You do not mind, do you?"

He smirked.

"Monster…" escaped from King Sigvald’s throat.

Fear completely seized him.

In the next second, Alisar’s palm closed around his head.

"Well then… farewell, king. I hope hell exists. And that the devil himself handles your punishment," he said evenly.

An instant later, the king’s vision was flooded with blinding light.

A second later, he was surrounded by horrifying heat.

"A-A-A-A-A-A-A!" His scream tore through the hall as his flesh burned.

The pain intensified. It was not instantaneous—it burned, tore, devoured him from within.

And finally, his consciousness went dark.

Alisar silently watched the king’s burning body.

"Hm… that took longer than I expected. I should probably practice this skill a little more. Though that bastard deserved the pain."

He shoved the body off the throne as if discarding useless trash.

"Now then… where is the magical device?"

He examined the throne, running his palm over its surface.

"Ah, whatever. I will take the whole throne."

Alisar bent down, gripped the massive base, and tore the throne out together with part of the castle’s stone floor—as easily as if he were snapping a dry biscuit. Stone cracked and shattered into fragments.

The next moment, he vanished.

The throne hall, where just a day ago the king and his ministers had discussed the future of the country—arguing loudly about war, about how the conquered lands would be divided between the aristocrats and the royal family after victory—was now unrecognizable.

The marble floor was soaked in blood. Entrails and mutilated body parts were scattered everywhere.

In the very center lay a charred, still smoking body—the remains of the king who only yesterday had been full of ambition and dreams of future conquests. Now he was unrecognizable.

The place was shrouded in complete, heavy silence.