In the darkness, in a place unknown to anyone, I was in a location that could be described as sacred.The air was cold, still, even the echoes seemed afraid to move.
On the ground lay a tall human body, about 6.2 or 6.3 feet, pale white skin like ice, long white hair cascading over the shoulders, and an upper body bare, marked by wounds and exhaustion. It was unclear whether he was alive or dead.But the aura surrounding him said otherwise — this body did not belong to the quiet world around it.
There was a majesty in his presence, a strange nobility, something in his features that made any being think twice before approaching. He could be described as regal, yet as cold as death.
He opened his eyes slowly. The first look was not that of a normal human, but of someone awakening after a long death.For a moment, I felt powerless — not fear, but hesitation before an explosion.
Before him stood six people around his age, faces familiar from the academy, but now there were no classmates. All of them wanted one thing: to witness his fall.
And in front of them was a woman everyone knew, called "The Royal Whore."She asked nervously:
"Why did you betray us, Arin von Rinehafer?"
He smiled coldly and replied calmly, stripping the truth slowly:
"A whore like you has no right to ask me that."
Then what no one expected happened —From him emerged a deadly aura, dark black mixed with light blue, as if darkness itself had married ice and given birth to it.The air froze in the room, the floor cracked faintly beneath his feet.
It was a lethal aura, not just energy… but a silent declaration of death.The six froze in place, eyes wide, breaths heavy. No one dared step forward.
Arin von Rinehafer — known for his talent before becoming a king — was not merely human, but a being who saw balance in chaos.
The aura was not fear; it was pure power blending anger with sarcasm.A soft, light laugh escaped his lips like a mocking challenge:
"Is that all you have? Six against one? You don't even know what fighting means."
In the blink of an eye, energy swirled around him like a cold storm, freezing the edges of the air itself, and his gaze killed before anyone could reach for a weapon.
Even the so-called "hero" who normally saves people, always glowing with golden light, didn't know how to face him.He looked at Arin in silent terror, realizing he faced something undefeatable, something that had no place in this world.
Arin did not move out of fear; he moved with deadly calm.Every step left traces of ice on the ground, every breath he took extinguished the heat of the room.
He chuckled softly, mockingly, as if commenting on a bad movie:
"How brave… and bad at acting too."
Then the confrontation unfolded — one moment enough to silence the world.
Arin opened his eyes again, but he was not in the middle of the fight.He was in the same place he had been before the transformation process began, sitting steadily, breathing evenly, the aura around him still pulsing.
He was not tired; he was more alert than ever.The dream he had just experienced was not merely a dream — it was a memory, or a warning from fate itself.
He knew he had died there once, but now… he was different.
Sometimes, fate likes to joke.Suddenly, the "ex-lover" appeared purely for comedic effect, as if the universe itself wanted to crack a joke.Arin smiled lightly and thought:
"Really? You're here too? What is this… a cheap comedy of my life?"
The woman trying to connect them — representing "luck" — stood in the background, clapping enthusiastically as if in a ridiculous play.
Arin laughed aloud this time, with sharp sarcasm:
"Fate, love, and luck… all against me? Wonderful, now all I need is tea and a piece of cake."
He then sat on the ground, reached toward the cupboard, and took out his favorite strawberry juice.Raising the glass, he smiled childishly:
"At least there's one thing that doesn't betray me."
He took a sip, closed his eyes briefly, and murmured:
"Now that I've finished everything, it's time to make a deal… or take revenge."
The faint aura around him receded slowly, leaving behind extreme cold, and a cold smile carrying a meaning only Arin himself understood.
Erin POV:
I approached the altar, taking out something like a pen or tool, and began drawing in a magical circle, complex, intertwined with strange symbols.The energy radiating from it seemed like the language of demons themselves, yet I understood it in a strange way.
"Blood is the ink, and the abyss is the paper."
I thought as I drew the final lines.Then I sat in the center of the square and began murmuring incantations no one could understand:
"##########_____"###"ç"è"&à"çà&é"ç²"é_è"&è("²é("é'"#########é²è-è&éç_ç"à)é=ç"(é'"éè)&=é²"é"é"è"é'"(éè
The world around me began to tremble, and the light dimmed, yet I laughed softly.
"What a ridiculous way to start your day, right Arin?"