Chapter 434
He stood in the middle of a sea of corpses, among pools of blood that had begun to clot, beneath a gray and somber sky.
His zombie army still stood around him, faithfully waiting for the next command, their empty eyes staring at him without expression.
They were the soldiers who had helped him reclaim the throne.
They were the ones who had helped him cleanse the world of the evil of the Obrim Dynasty.
They were the ones who had helped him deliver justice in the cruelest way possible.
Yet they were also reminders of everything that had been lost.
They were faces that had once been alive.
Faces that had once laughed.
Faces that had once carried dreams and hopes.
They were the friends from his small childhood gang.
They were the soldiers of the Village Defense Force.
They were ordinary villagers who had only wanted to live peacefully.
And now they were nothing more than living corpses waiting to be laid to rest.
Xavier slowly raised his hand.
His golden-yellow eyes shone brighter for a moment.
And with a command that could only be heard by those who were already dead, he released the bond that had tied the zombies to the world of the living.
One by one, the zombie army began to collapse.
The bodies that had moved under Xavier's command suddenly lost their energy.
They lost their strength.
They lost whatever force had allowed them to keep standing.
They fell gently, like dry leaves drifting down in autumn, without sound, without resistance, without regret.
And when those bodies touched the ground, when they finally lay still among the same pools of blood that had once flowed from their wounds, Xavier felt something strange.
It was not sadness, because his tears had already run dry.
It was not relief, because the wound in his heart was still too deep.
It was a strange sense of peace.
A sense of peace because at last they could all rest quietly.
A sense of peace because they were no longer cursed zombies.
A sense of peace because they had completed their mission perfectly.
Xavier walked among the corpses, looking at their faces one by one, saying farewell in his heart to every friend he had ever had.
He stopped before the friend who had lost both hands and one eye, who now lay quietly, his disfigured face peaceful for the first time.
He stopped before another member of his childhood gang, whose body had been shattered yet now lay whole again in death.
He stopped before the soldiers who had fought desperately to defend the village, who could finally sleep without nightmares.
And when he finally reached the stage in the center of the square, when he sat once again upon the throne made from piles of enemy weapons, when he looked around and saw that no one remained alive except himself, Xavier took a deep breath.
He was the only human left in this world.
The only survivor of the massacre.
The only one who had risen and avenged everyone he loved.
The only rightful heir of the Xavier dynasty that had ruled for thousands of years.
And now, after everything that had happened, after all the blood that had been spilled, after all the sacrifices that had been made, it was time for him to take what was rightfully his.
With a calm yet clear voice.
With eyes still burning golden yellow.
With a heart still wounded yet resolute.
Xavier XVII announced his claim to power.
He claimed the throne as the rightful successor of the Xavier family.
As the seventeenth king of a dynasty long thought lost.
As the sole ruler of the territories once known as the dominion of the Obrim Dynasty.
But he would no longer call it the Obrim Dynasty.
That name had died along with its corrupt officials.
That name had vanished together with the cruelty they had committed.
That name would be replaced with a new one.
A name more worthy.
A name that would bring hope and justice to the people who had long been oppressed.
The same name as his own.
The Xavier Dynasty.
"You appeared when this world stood empty and hollow."
Xavier sat upon the silent throne, surrounded by a sea of corpses that had finally become still forever.
The silence was suffocating, heavier than a thousand armies, deeper than the deepest ocean.
He stared blankly toward the magnificent palace that now belonged to him.
Toward the vast lands that now lay under his authority.
Toward the world he had conquered through blood and betrayal.
Yet within his heart, there was only emptiness.
All enemies were dead.
All friends were gone.
Everyone he had loved.
Everyone he had hated.
All of them had vanished from this world.
Only he remained.
A king without subjects.
A ruler without the ruled.
A human being alone in a silent world.
What was the meaning of all this victory if there was no one to celebrate it with him?
What was the meaning of all this power if there was no one left to protect or lead?
What was the meaning of this throne if he had to sit upon it alone, waiting for time to pass without purpose?
Those questions spun through his mind like a whirlwind.
Growing stronger.
Growing more confusing.
Until he nearly drowned in a new vortex of despair.
And at that moment, when Xavier was on the verge of surrendering to the suffocating emptiness, when he was about to lose his direction and purpose, an old presence appeared once again.
From the silent cracks of the air.
From the spaces between the thick silence.
From the boundary between the living and the dead.
Alaric Syah appeared once more.
The old man stood before him with the same faint smile.
With the same golden-yellow eyes.
With the same wooden staff.
But this time there was something different in his expression.
Something more serious.
Something deeper.
Something heavier.
He no longer smiled gently like a grandfather proud of his grandson.
He looked at Xavier with a meaningful gaze.
A gaze that said the real adventure was only about to begin.
That everything Xavier had experienced.
All the battles.
All the deaths.
All the betrayals.
Had merely been the opening act of a far greater story.
That the throne and the power and the victory he had gained were only stepping stones toward something far more important.
Something more mysterious.
Something that would determine the fate of the entire universe.
Alaric began to speak with a deep and authoritative voice.
The same voice that had once told the story of Xavier's origins and his aunt's betrayal.
But this time the story was different.
This time he did not speak about the past.
He spoke about the future.
About something Xavier now had to do after all his enemies had died and all his friends were gone.
About a mission far greater than reclaiming a throne.
About a journey that would carry him beyond the boundaries of the world he had always known.
Alaric explained that the Authority of Perception Alteration, the power now flowing through Xavier's blood, was not created by Alaric himself.
That power came from someone else.
From a man who had once been the greatest teacher Alaric had ever encountered in his entire life.
A mysterious man who had appeared from nowhere.
A man who had taught him many things about the universe and the hidden forces within it.
A man who had granted him the Authority of Perception Alteration as a legacy before eventually disappearing without a trace.
And Alaric, after becoming king and having descendants, passed that power to his son, Xavier I, who then passed it down through generations until it finally reached Xavier XVII.
To be continued…