So now you have heard my story, Lady Rose — have you decided yet?
Rose looked at me, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
I laughed. "To kill or not to kill — that's the big question."
She was shocked I would even ask such a thing, and her reply said everything.
"The Queens of Oma were tasked with killing tyrants. You, Zefar… are no tyrant."
I relaxed in my seat, feeling both relieved and vindicated. Still, I had to ask:
"Will your people not be furious if you return without my head?"
She answered instantly.
"The people of Oma aren't savages. They can be reasoned with. They know when to admit they're wrong. And they don't force their queens to kill innocent men."
I smiled. "Oh, Lady Rose, you flatter me… but we both know I'm far from innocent. The mere mention of my historical crimes makes my 999 years of toil seem like child's play. In fact, I deserve a fate worse than death — but alas, I can't die."
Rose was at a loss for words. She had spent a whole minute defending me, and here I was condemning myself.
I added, "Here's an idea — why don't you kill me? I'm bloody tired of this rundown vessel. Take my head and present it to your people tomorrow. They'll sing that Queen Rose slayed the Great Zefar… but of course, I'd be back on my throne the very next day. The real question is: which body would I pick this year?"
She snapped, frustrated.
"Zefar, I won't kill you and take your head. What would your Slayers think? And I have principles — I don't harm the people I love."
Did I hear her correctly, or was I hallucinating? Had I somehow found my way into Rose's heart?
"Lady Rose… did you just confess your love to me?"
She rebuked me instantly. "Don't get ahead of yourself. There are lots of people I care about. You just happen to come last on the list."
I smiled. "I'll take what I'm given. I'm not greedy."
But the elephant in the room needed addressing.
"Lady Rose, did you by any chance bring an executioner with you to Babel? You really didn't need the extra muscle. I only have one heart — a simple stab would do."
She stared at me, puzzled.
"Zefar, are you going mad? I have no idea what you're talking about. What executioner?"
I rose from my throne and pointed behind her.
"Allow me to introduce the deadly madman hiding in the shadows behind you."
For someone who didn't want to be noticed, he was armed to the teeth, ripped to the bone, and obviously a trained killer.
She turned. And just like clockwork, the ravens — which had been gathering unnaturally thick, eclipsing the moon — scattered, letting the night's light spill into the room. The moonlight revealed the man darker than any shadow.
He held two axes and stared at me with murderous focus. His bead necklace, natural war armor, and heavy physique marked him as unmistakably from Oma, not Babel.
"Before we begin this death match," I declared, "I must confess: Lady Rose, I knew about Oma long before you were born. The Kingdom of Liberty was never new to me. I respected your traditions and left your continent untouched. Your people liberated your land of tyrants — which meant less work for me."
As they both stared at me, I smiled behind my mask.
"Lady Rose… my deadly assassin… I let you in willingly.
My tense recollection was abruptly cut by one of my Slayers.
"Lord Zefar, we caught the archer who shot at you."
I turned to the Slayer — clad in Babel's finest war gear, equipped with the standard metal mask that hid his identity.
The Summoned changed bodies more times than I could count, so instead of trying to remember every name and face, I had the special Slayer masks made for easy identification.
To prevent impersonation, only my Slayers called me "Lord Zefar." And the Summoned shared a telepathic link with me — I could hear their thoughts, and they could hear my voice anywhere in the world.
I ordered him to bring the "dumb archer" to me.
To my utter surprise, I was presented with Rose's cousin — the cunning snake she called Yuda.
I recognized those arrows instantly. They were the same ones I intercepted back in Babel to save Rose.
Yuda had a hobby — trying to kill people with sharpened sticks. He'd tied a letter to the arrow I sacrificed my right hand to stop.
He had genuinely attempted to kill Rose and offer me a peace treaty at the same time. This psychopath truly believed he'd rule Oma once Rose was dead — his delusion strengthened by the fact she was Mawe's last descendant.
I addressed the treacherous fool, eager to see if he finally wore the crown he'd killed for.
"Tell me, Yuda… how long has it been since we met? Have you been keeping Rose's throne warm for her? Be assured — no matter what you say or do, you will die on this hill."
Yuda looked at me with contempt before speaking.
"I fear you're ten years late, Zefar. Yes — I wanted the throne. Yes — I tried to kill Rose. But you lack the full story. Let me tell you exactly how I became King of Oma."
I was sickened by his arrogance.
"Nothing you say will save you from a slow, painful death. You had something to do with her death — that much I know."
Yuda continued, unbothered:
"Oh, Zefar… always assuming the worst of me. If you'd kept Rose from ever returning to Oma — if you'd accepted my peace treaty — none of us would be here."
He sensed my anger through the Veil of Glass and quickly backtracked.
"I apologize for any hurt feelings her death left you with. But by the time I finish my tale, you'll realize my logic supersedes your emotions."
With the confidence of a man who had nothing to lose, he began his self-proclaimed tale of glory:
"Years ago, I realized Oma needed radical change. Queens ruling while men were left in useless positions was slowly raising a generation of men who would never know how to take charge of their lives — or their kingdom."
He paused.
"To be clear, I never hated Rose. But she became an obstacle to my vision of having a king in Oma."
My hands shook with rage. I fought the urge to strangle him right there. He continued:
"I wasn't selfish. I didn't even want the throne for myself. I was willing to support any man capable of ruling fairly. But the political system in Oma was too rigid. The only way to create change was to exploit a loophole — the Queens of Oma were chosen only from the descendants of Mawe."
A cruel smile crossed his face.
"So I asked myself: what would happen if her descendants were no more?"
He shrugged casually.
"Lucky for me, Rose was the last of them."