Zero

Laius swung his sword, cutting down the thick branches that blocked his path forward and listening to the debris hit the water at his feet. 

A fucking mangrove, really? 

Laius cursed out Maenalus in his head for choosing to hide his evil lair in such a wretched place. It was nothing but tangled roots, dark shadows, and murky waters ahead of him. The sun hardly peeked through the leaves above even though it was midday. Anyone who chose to live in such an area had something wrong with them. Although, it made sense considering the man was equally as wicked as the water currently logging his heavy boots.

The slaughter of two thousand people. Organized crime factions against the castle. Detailed plans and reports about a weapon of mass destruction. Really, the list of crimes Maenalus had committed were long enough to utilize as a blanket if it were printed on a scroll. He likely hit cute kittens on a daily basis. 

Laius had rid Remirk of such a villain two months ago. As the Kingdom of Zirenth’s best magic swordsman, his decade-long mission had been to get rid of Maenalus. He'd taken so long to do it because of Maenalus' favourite spell, which turned out to be an instant teleportation spell to God-knows-where (likely the mangrove he was currently destroying). He was the only one in the last century to know how to cast teleportation spells, which meant Laius was always left in the dust just as his sword was about to make contact. The amount of frustration that built up over the years at being unable to catch Maenalus was almost not relieved when he finally did. 

Laius finally spotted what seemed to be an entrance. An opening in the trees with an ominous darkness coming from between. As he reached there, he found traces of mana still left over, and a clear line in the water sliced it as if it was solid. He stepped past the line, realizing that Maenalus had at least some sense, because his boots and the calves of his trousers instantly dried.

As he walked down the first few steps, his inherent night vision activated to reveal the walls of the tunnel formed by large tangling tree roots, definitely the product of Maenalus’ magic that allowed the structure to stand. He saw little critters and creatures scaling the roots, as well as leaves and sometimes even flowers that bloomed out of the root. If it wasn’t so dark and musty, it might have been nice. It was hard to believe that this was the entrance to where Maenalus spent all of his life. It made Laius start thinking about how he got here.

Three months ago, Maenalus had made a grand mistake. He had not yet learned that the castle hired a new mage from a small kingdom five days South, and her specialty was clairvoyance. The next time Laius had confronted Maenalus, he’d managed to slice a piece of his sleeve and pocket it mid-fight. When Laius had returned to the mage’s tower, she cast her spell on it and learned of the last few instances where he had been wearing it. One of them showed her a vision of his meeting with the neighbouring kingdom East of them: Braemar. 

The news had come as a surprise to all of the castle strategists, as Braemar had had a treaty with Zirenth for the last two centuries. This new information allowed Laius to sneak into Braemar and kidnap one of their strategists, who was subsequently tortured into revealing the plan with Maenalus. Laius was then ordered to intercept the plan when Maenalus would least expect it, and finally end the long-standing reign of terror he had over the Kingdom of Zirenth.

A fork in the road. Laius paused, analyzing the two entrances. One of them was more narrow than the other. Thinking about Maenalus’ propensity of retreating his skinny figure into a ball, he figured the more important stuff was in the narrow path. He scoffed to himself, turning left towards the tapering tunnel.

He pulled out the scroll that he brought with him. A corner of it was still crusted with Maenalus’ blood. The morticians who were dealing with his limp body found the scroll as they were in the process of immortalizing him. The blood was from the stab wound that Laius had dealt him. 

In the scroll was what brought Laius on this silly treasure hunt. It was a long poem about hidden artifacts and secrets, with mention of chest after chest of gold coins from Zirenth’s 3rd ruler Byzas—the legendary King of Riches. People had always wondered where his gold had gone. It seemed that Maenalus had taken it. 

The current King of Zirenth had given Laius one wish (alongside a chest of his own gold) for killing Maenalus. Out of everything he could have asked for—his own territory, the hand of the gorgeous crown princess, a statue of himself erected at the front of the castle made only of the finest materials… The moment the strategists brought up the hunt for Maenalus’ treasure, detailing how they would excavate his home and uncover the secrets, Laius was presenting himself in front of the king. 

“Let me find Maenalus’ treasure. Myself.” 

He remembered the king stroking his long beard. 

“I see you’re vying for Byzas’ treasure. How greedy of you.” The man paused. “But I have to grant your one wish, and at least it is not my dear princess Penelope.” 

Laius wished his request had been because he was greedy.

But really he had no need for all of Byzas’ gold coins. A legendary artifact to make him impossibly stronger would be nice, for sure. A smile graced his face at maybe even uncovering Maenalus’ deepest darkest and most embarrassing secret. 

Unfortunately, all he could think about was the face of the bruised and battered strategist of the Kingdom of Braemar. 

“You’re the righteous hero of Zirenth, right? Laius?” He crawled forward in his prison cell, shaking hands grasping at the bars. “You have to help Maenalus. If you’re really so righteous, you will—“

And then blood spewed out of his mouth. One of the mages from the tower had appeared behind Laius, and his wand was directed at the strategist. 

Their discussion had ended there. The strategist was officially executed in the following hours. 

To add onto that peculiar instance, Laius was curious why Maenalus would even have a scroll with riddles to his lair. It was like he wanted people to find his treasure, which made no sense. Laius might currently be walking into a horrible trap, but being the hero of Zirenth gave him the confidence that he’d escape unharmed. Or a few scratches. 

A low growl came from ahead. Laius gripped the sword at his side, unsheathing it as he continued forward. Soon, as the tunnel curved, he spotted two red eyes in the distance. They were familiar. 

As he approached the beast, he recognized it as the Dark Lion Maenalus often had with him by his side. It was over 7 feet tall and as wide as about three of Laius’ shoulders. Its mane and fur was a shadowy black that seemed to protrude out of its body like flames, and just one swipe of its paws was enough to kill three people with its sharp, red claws—Laius had seen it before. He had also, however, beaten this creature before. Many times. Maenalus usually only had it to deter the cannon fodder, or rode off in the distance on its back. 

Laius stepped closer when the Dark Lion kept growling at him. He infused his sword with mana, lighting up the tunnel with the bright orange light of his magic. As he took another step towards the lion, it suddenly whimpered. 

A smoke screen suddenly exploded from its body, and Laius raised his arm in front of him, squinting as he honed his senses in case there was a surprise attack coming. Nothing ended up happening, but when the smoke slowly dissipated he saw the creature still in front of him. Though now, it was about a tenth of its size, its red eyes staring at Laius as it sat down, tail wagging side to side. 

Laius frowned. 

The creature waddled up to him, its behaviour like that of a domesticated dog. He gripped his sword tighter when it leaned its head forward, brushing its head on Laius’ calf. 

“What the hell…” Laius mumbled. When the thing finished brushing itself on Laius, it sat down, looking up at him expectantly. It kept nodding its head in a downward swooping method. 

Laius’ eye twitched. He recognized that act from the domesticated demon wolves back at the castle. It was asking for pets. With his other arm, he reached out, hesitantly placing his hand on its head. When his glove didn’t burn off and the lion-creature still sat patiently, he properly pet it.

It let out a purr, closing its eyes in delight. Then, as if snapping out of it, it stood, making Laius flinch in preparation of an attack. 

However, all it did was turn its back, walking further down the path. A few meters later when it noticed Laius wasn’t following, it turned, looking at him. 

He took that as his cue to follow the creature, so he finally sheathed his sword fully, following the monster at a safe distance. 

The tunnel continued with multiple forks in the road, but at all forks he followed the beast. At times the beast would stop and turn to look at him. The first time that happened, Laius stepped past him and his foot landed right on a pressure plate. Hundreds of poison-tipped blades came shooting out of the walls, and if Laius had brought up his barrier a second later, one of them would have grazed his arm. 

On closer inspection with one of the blades, the colour and texture of the poison told him that it was from a Giant Frog. The smallest inoculation of its poison would paralyze a person for at minimum 24 hours. Laius scoffed, entirely unsurprised that Maenalus would come up with such petty tricks to hide his secret lair. He then fortified his feet, continuing to follow the beast that wove through the knives.

The second time the beast stopped, Laius motioned for it to go first. It shook its head like a kid. Sighing, he watched the floor carefully as he stepped in front of the lion, staring closely at the floor. He saw no pressure plate or uneven flooring, making it another meter before he felt the smallest resistance on his right calf. 

An invisible tripwire. 

The two of them dashed through the hallway whose walls began closing in on them, likely thousands of pounds of magic-fortified rock meant to crush their skulls. He escaped by the skin of his teeth, almost sure that his golden hair brushed against the rocks when he dashed out. 

He heaved at the other end, hands on his knees. 

"If you know what's coming why don't you stop me from triggering them!" he yelled at the beast. Its ears flopped back onto its head, whimpering. It seemed that it had no choice but to do so. "What a cruel master you serve." 

The event reminded him of something that had happened five years ago. He had similarly been running down a hallway with the fear of getting crushed to death, except this time it was a large circular boulder barreling towards him and Maenalus in one of the Deep Dungeons. He had learned of Maenalus' plan to acquire the Blade of Truth and was tasked with obtaining it before the villain did. What resulted from that was three days of dungeon clearing with the dumbass who tried to kill him at every turn, and a boss fight so grand they were forced to work together unless they wanted to both die thousands of feet below ground. 

Maenalus had tried to trip him when they were running from the boulder. Laius had grabbed his cloak when he was leaving him in the dust, dragging him back and trying to throw him under the boulder. 

They had reached a dead-end, and gave each other a knowing glance. Digging their feet into the ground, they turned, staff and sword pointed at the boulder as incantations fell from their mouths. Just moments before they were about to be crushed, the boulder exploded into pieces, dust and debris filling the air. 

As Laius had been busy coughing his lungs out, he heard a maniacal laugh in the darkness. 

"How fun!" Maenalus exclaimed. 

Laius had just rolled his eyes.

He now stared at the back of the beast, recalling that Maenalus had pulled the lion out of his pocket and rode down the long hallway away from Laius that day, laughing. It had been strange how much his laughter sounded like wind chimes--even when they were basically in the pits of hell and he was about to make Laius fail his mission by getting the blade first. 

Laius shook his head, dispelling the memory from his mind. 

Soon, they reached a side door in one of the tunnels. He pushed past the old wooden door, uncovering a neat office-looking room. There was a wooden desk in the middle of the room, surrounded by shelves after shelves of books. He approached the desk, flicking on the lamp that illuminated the whole room easily. On closer inspection they were sorted into magical tomes, history on all the different Kingdoms, religious texts, or apparently self-made books about all the officials in the Kingdom of Zirenth. There was a section of battered books with titles in a language he couldn't understand, and as he pulled one of the books out, the lion approached him, nudging his thigh. 

He stared down at the beast, seeing that it held a magnifying glass in its mouth. He took the item, inspecting it before he figured the beast gave it to him for that particular book. He placed the magnifying glass up to the words on the first page, seeing it instantly translate into his own language. 

"The Eiran Race" was the title of the book. 

Laius furrowed his brows. He didn't recognize the name Eiran, and he had diligently taken his history classes when he was a young noble child with the greatest historian in Zirenth. 

The next book: "The 9th King of Zirenth and Naeremie Frost". 

The next, "Eiran Genocide". 

"Brainwashing of the Zirenth Kingdom."

The more book titles he read from those old battered ones, the more he got confused. Just one look at the titles gave him the hint of what was going on with this "Eiran" race, but he still couldn't believe he had never heard of them before. Sure it talked about brainwashing, but did that really also apply to the strongest swordsman-mage in the Kingdom? He didn't want to believe he had been blindly following something he didn't know anything about. 

He looked out the door into the hallway, making sure nothing would explode if he holed himself in the office for a while. When all he heard was silence, he closed the office door, sitting himself down in the comfy chair and propping his feet on the desk. He was sure Maenalus wouldn't mind. 

He stared at the cover of the first book, a memory surfacing. 

Maenalus and one of his hologram clones had sat down with him at a bar once. After Laius and him finished the typical banter where he tried assessing where Maenalus' real body was so that he could eliminate him, Maenalus had leaned back, sighing with a content smile on his face.

"Have you ever thought you didn't know the whole story?" 

"What, your villain origin story? Did a King of Zenith torture and kill your lover of something?" 

Maenalus hummed. 

"What if that was the case?" 

"I'd call you a loser. The death of one person doesn't justify you killing two thousand people."

"Does the death of one person justify the death of one other person, then?" 

Laius pressed his lips together. "Well, no, nothing should ever be resolved with death..."

"You don't actually believe that. You're just putting on the Just Hero act. You've been trying to kill me for the last decade." 

Laius' lip quirked. 

"Was it that obvious?" 

Maenalus laughed.

Laius paused, fiddling with the glass of beer in front of him. "Well, what if I relented and said it was okay for you to kill just the one guy who did you dirty?"  

"...Then I'd say you completely understand who I am."

For the next few hours--whether it was 3 or 8 he didn't keep track--he read the books. As he read them, the emotions he felt towards the text shifted from curiousity, to bewilderment, to interest, and then finally to disappointment. Towards the end, he no longer even frowned as he finished the 8th short book, almost expecting the words when he opened the 9th and last book. 

The Eiran Race were an influential group in the Kingdom of Zirenth two hundred years ago, who were elven in appearance and thus physically strong, but had Holy powers like the current Grail group still existing in Zirenth. The 9th King of Zirenth had fallen madly in love with Naeremie Frost, the most revered prophet of the Eiran race. Only, prophets were not allowed to engage in romantic relations, and Naeremie had no interest in the King. 

The King of that time was famous for being insane and off the rocker, so he marched into their lands and kidnapped her. He had held her hostage, assaulted her, and made her bear his 6th son. Unfortunately for him, any person who fathered a prophet's child was cursed with an ill-filled life. Learning of that curse and his rapidly deteriorating health, he in turn attempted to curse the rest of the Eiran Race for "deceiving" him. He ordered the death of all Eirans, but kept two mutant women who were born without the elven appearance to preserve the Holy powers they naturally had. To him, seeing the elven appearances reminded him of his betrayal, so he manufactured a new race without it.

They were forced to birth the children of Zirenth nobles for the next thirty years even once the King had passed away, because the first prince and next King kept the mission going. After a revolt from the citizens, they utilized the most powerful mages to brainwash the people and erase the knowledge of Eiran people from their minds. The Grail people were formed from this event, and were now cemented in history as a race that had always existed. 

Laius closed the book, staring off at nothing as he thought about the facts that he'd just learned. 

Regardless of what he'd just learned, Maenalus was still someone who caused destruction and murdered thousands in cold blood. Laius shouldn't be feeling anything like guilt for someone who did that. 

He set the last book down on the desk, pivoting in his studies to the drawers in Maenalus' desk. If there was one thing he truly wanted from this excavation, it was some embarrassing secret he was trying to keep hidden. 

Laius tried the first drawer on the desk. Locked. He tried the second. Similar. The last one was no different. 

He pursed his lips, looking at the object that stood between him and Maenalus' secrets. He hoped dead Maenalus would forgive him for what he was about to do--who was he kidding? Maenalus would likely explode the whole room. 

Laius raised his fist, enchanting it with his mana. He could tell the desk was fortified with mana itself, but there was a reason Maenalus always ran from their battles. The lion looked as if it wanted to intervene, but one stare from Laius made it slump back. 

Clenching his fist, he slammed it down on the magic wood, watching it splinter under his strength. Another slam cracked a hole  through the top of the structure, revealing the first piece of dirt he was to uncover. 

A journal. 

He picked it up, swiping the debris that the wood had dusted onto its front. No title, no name. But it was obvious whose it was. 

He opened the first page. 

Just one look at the first sentence had his lip quirking. 

A diary, indeed.

"Now this is what I'm talking about." 

He dropped back into the chair, settling himself and pulling his rations out of his bag. He was now in it for the long haul. 

My mom always told me her one wish was to obliterate the Zirenth...

Eventually, I followed in her path, because...

It wasn't a shock to me the first time I took a human life...

Boring. Boring, boring, boring. 

Laius didn't care about all of his backstory. He wanted to find the more fun stuff. 

Regardless, he kept flipping through, eyes glazing over every word. With the consistency of every drawn letter, he could imagine Maenalus sat in this very spot, not lifting a finger as he let his magic write the words in his brain onto paper. 

The first time I met him, his hair glowed a bright light on the battlefield. 

"Oho?" Laius said to himself, subconsciously sitting up straighter. There was no way Maenalus was talking about anyone other than him. The very opposite of his own gloomy and drab energy was Laius' golden light. 

Obnoxious prick he was. He swung his sword without a care in the world. 

Laius rolled his eyes, getting comfy again as he prepared to read his very own fan-fiction. 

He was hardly strong... 

"Bet you're regretting thinking that," Laius mumbled. 

A good chunk of papers later and a lot of boring stuff without his name followed. And then:

The fifth time we met, he almost killed a lady at the bar...

Laius remembered that. It hadn't even been his fault that the lady almost died. Maenalus had used her as a shield, for God's sake! 

But well, I guess I can acknowledge that his strength surpassed what I expected. 

Laius turned his nose up. 

Hours passed. Because it was a magic journal, its physical size had nothing to do with how many words were in it. When he reached the physical end, it refreshed and was onto the next page. If it were its true size, it must have been thicker than ten of the biggest encyclopedias in the castle library.

He read about every encounter that Maenalus had on his way to becoming the most renowned villain in their Kingdom. Secret meetups, mishaps, plans for the events Zirenth would eventually call names such as "The Great Disaster", the "Foiled King's Meeting", or any other great loss in Zirenth Kingdom. 

The Hero Laius was an annoying prick. But talking with him today made me realize that we may see some things similarly.

Laius learned that some of the smaller wars they lost were even because of Maenalus. He began to admire the tricks up Maenalus' sleeve; the way he utilized royalty like pawns; and the confidence with which he laid out his thoughts. 

He learned of how Maenalus had orchestrated what he considered his greatest defeat to this day--the time when while saving Princess Penelope from the burning tower, his pants caught on one of the tree branches and ripped a hole down the middle. 

His expression when he landed was priceless.

His jaw clenched in annoyance. To think that Maenalus had enchanted a branch. 

It was strange. Laius couldn't believe he bested such a genius. 

It was page after page of the smallest of details Maenalus paid attention to. The time of day down to the second when the event would happen. What fawn and wildlife he could utilize. How likely it was for some random citizen to be drunk on the street so he could run behind them. 

Laius spotted his own name in the text again. 

...At some point, I had begun looking forward to seeing that light during my escapades. 

Laius paused.

And then he reread the words again. 

His grip tightened on the book. 

Would that sentence be good enough for him to say he'd found Maenalus' most embarrassing secret?

He kept flipping the pages. 

And it was a good thing the lion didn't understand humans nor could it talk, because no one would be witness of the added enthusiasm in the flips of the book. 

Was it enthusiasm? Or was it anxiety? 

He could have done it today. 

Laius knew instantly what he was talking about. 

The night of the King's 7th Great Ball, where he foiled Maenalus' plan to bomb the place. On the Easternmost balcony, where the music from the dance floor hardly reached their ears. He had grabbed Maenalus from the sky where he attempted his escape of dropping to the ground floor, his glove enchanted with nullification magic that activated as his arms wrapped around his waist. 

"Unhand me you buffoon," Maenalus had spat in his face, his weak hands clawing at Laius' forearms as he pulled him over the parapet. He spun the man, shoving him against the banister and getting a good look at his face.

Laius remembered realizing that up close, his eyes were more of a dark blue than the black he was used to calling them. 

"And let you kill my employer? I think not."

"It's not--ugh--" he grunted when Laius changed his grip, fingers fitting snuggly around his neck. 

"Can you believe after all these years, this is how it ends?" Laius questioned, tightening his hold. 

Maenalus choked, nails digging into Laius' gloves. 

"What, you scared?" 

Tears filled the man's eyes involuntarily, his cheeks going a deep red.

When he blinked, allowing the drops to cascade down, Laius saw an expression on his face he recognized easily. It was not fear--for he was the great hero of Zirenth, who was known to dispell that sentiment in every situation--but the opposite. 

Admiration. 

He let go of Maenalus' throat as if it burned. 

"Why are you--"

And then he was gone. 

Laius had yelled at the sky that night, pounding the banister so hard he had to rebuild it himself the next day. 

I wonder why he didn't kill me.

"Maybe it was that stupid lovestruck expression on your face, moron..." Laius flipped to the next page. 

On the next dozen or so pages would be recountings of his day-to-day life, with one sentence at the end of each day that Laius would pay special attention to.

He won't ever expect this next plan.

He was there again today. 

I wonder how he reacted.

Sometimes he makes me wonder how I got here.

Is this because he spared my life once? 

Why was he there?

How come I was looking for him?

From the rest of the day's recountings, he could tell he was reaching the end. It was just shy of one month before he had pierced his sword through Maenalus' chest. 

Yesterday, he asked me why I was always running away with my teleportation magic if I didn't want to run away. Does he want me to run away with him?

That was not at all what Laius had meant. He more meant that Maenalus could go live some peaceful guilt-free life in some treehouse with his skills and never be bothered ever again.

But when he read those last words, it got him thinking. 

It wouldn't have been that bad building and living in a tree house.

Why is his face stuck in my thoughts?

Laius' eye twitched. He had been ignoring that all this time, Maenalus' face kept popping up in his mind. The words were like a slap to his conscience. 

I think I--

Laius slammed the book close.

He couldn't read it any further. 

He laughed to himself quietly. The lion's ears twitched as its head rose from its nap. 

Maybe he was more kind than he thought. 

"I'll leave your most embarrassing thought to yourself, Maenalus." 

He tossed the book into the knapsack covered by his cape. 

He stood, stretching his legs and yawning. Sure, he was the Hero of the Kingdom with unlimited stamina, rumoured to have survived a week in the dessert with no food, water, or sleep, but even two days of reading took a toll on someone. 

His spine popped when he twisted and turned, and he jumped in spot to relieve the numbness in his limbs. 

It was time for him to continue on his schedule. 

Another slam of the desk cracked the next drawer, and in it was his next destination. A detailed map to the cave where he kept Byzas' Treasure. He hardly even knew if he was interested in it anymore.

The last drawer had a black scroll, tied together with a dainty red ribbon. 

An attempt to open it had his gloves singed. Determined, he ripped his gloves off momentarily, reinforcing his skin with the strongest spell he knew as he tried again. 

It was still impossible. 

Baffled, he raised it above his head, looking at it curiously. 

The lion pawed at him. He looked down, watching as it nodded its head as if trying to signal something. When he didn't understand, it went to the desk where he had left the map to Byzas' treasure. It got onto its hindlegs, pawing at the map and then nodding at the scroll. 

He understood then what it meant. He would be able to open it after finding Byzas' treasure. 

Without wasting anymore time (mostly because he just wanted to get out of the musty place already) he followed the map. The lion followed close behind. 

There were only three more death traps. One of them made the ground crumble into a pit of lava. The next spawned 12-meter tall cockroaches to gross people out. The last and final one spawned undead Knights that he recognized as Knights of the Zirenth Kingdom. They at least made him work up a sweat. If it had been anyone other than Laius, they would have died fighting one of the Knights 1v1, much less 6 of them at once. 

Finally, he made it to a large, black, arched door. It was at least 10 of him in height. He wasted no time unsheathing his sword, deciding to forego even trying to push it open. Knowing Maenalus, there was some bullshit trap to it as well. 

A swing of his sword cleanly sliced the door, and with a fortified kick the bottom portion of it started tipping into the room. The more it opened, the more light started pouring through the dim tunnel. 

It eventually got so bright that Laius had to wince, covering his eyes when the piece of door fell to the floor. 

It turned out that there were no more traps. Just a heaping pile of gold that one would expect Dragons to lay on in legends. Among the coins were gems of all kind, and swords, crowns, and chests also littered the pile. 

At the top of the hill, however, was a floating orb. He squinted, approaching the gigantic pile. It took him minutes to even reach the base, and triple that to even get halfway up the hill. He kept slipping when the coins would give way under him. 

Finally, he reached the top, seeing that it was a white scroll floating in the bubble. 

He knew instantly it was what the lion was alluding to. He pulled up the black scroll from Maenalus' desk, holding it up to the white scroll. 

Laius was sure that this was what Maenalus was truly hiding. There was no way he cared about the gold pile, because he could easily live in comfort without ever needing to spend a dime. 

He easily grabbed the scroll, surprised at how there were no additional steps when he pulled it close. Opening it, he saw the writing he had spent 24 hours straight reading. 

If someone is reading this, it must mean that I have died. 

Laius winced. He felt strange admitting that he had been the one to do it. 

I pray that it is one who is allied to Eirans that has found this scroll. 

For it is not my end. 

Laius gripped the scroll tight, crumpling the magic paper at the corners. 

Death is only the trigger to the final plan. 

Laius kept reading, his eyebrows furrowing more as he read. 

The Legends speak of the greatest power being one that is out of reach for the living. 

What happens then once death is reached, and life is given again? Is there a point where that power is obtainable during death?

There was only one way to test it. 

He could feel the corners of his lips lift, regardless of how he would never admit it. 

He knew it was strange that Maenalus had died so easily. 

Since I have now died, that means I can now be resurrected. The black scroll is the...

He wondered if his delight came from knowing that he was right, or knowing that Maenalus had planned it all along. 

Magic blood from royal descendants is required for the ritual...

...Once these steps are completed, my new body will be formed atop this pile. In three-days' time, I will wake up living once more...

There was one thing that Laius had noticed when he was reading over the last few days. It was his lack of desire in feeling guilt for slaying Maenalus after he read about the Eirans past. 

It was only when he read Maenalus' personal diary that he felt guilt. 

"It's too bad that I can't see Maenalus' face again."

"It's too bad that I can't laugh at him for my discoveries."

"It's too bad that I can't beat him one more time."

Was that what Maenalus meant, when he said that Laius and he were similar? Had he seen through the facade he had as the Hero of Zirenth? He could care less about where Maenalus came from, how many people he had killed, or what his next plans were. Just like Maenalus had been given a mission by his mother, Laius had been given a mission by the King. They were both just completing their duties. 

But... the last pages of his diary. 

It made Laius regret slicing that sword through Maenalus' heart. 

He realized that he had become quite fond of Maenalus, over the last few years. 

He smirked, pulling out the dagger he kept on the opposite side of his sword. Rather than caring about what calamity Maenalus was going to bring to the kingdom he was meant to protect, he was more excited to see the expression on his face when he woke up to see Laius in front of him. 

And if the King ordered him to kill Maenalus again, maybe he would do just that.  

I think I have fallen. 

"Me too."

He cut open his palm.