The kingdom sprawled endlessly, a shining monument to wealth and power. Towering spires pierced the sky, streets gleamed like polished marble, and noble families walked with the certainty of rulers over everything. Within the academy, prodigies practiced Ken with precision and grace, each gesture refined to perfection, each heartbeat measured and contained.
Outside the walls, the world was harsh. Mountains of refuse stretched into the horizon. Here, the poor scavenged tirelessly, sifting through discarded scraps. Chaos clung to them like a second skin, yet pride burned brighter than hunger. To Saber Augustine, it was a world alive—a world the gilded city would never allow him to touch.
---
Saber pressed his forehead against the cold glass of his window, staring at the distant dumpsite. The chaos, the stories, the laughter and cries of the brave—it all called to him.
"Stop staring at those people, Saber," his father's voice cut through the quiet, cold as iron. "See them? Weak. That is your future if you fail. Do you want that?"
Saber swallowed hard. "No… Father," he whispered. And yet, inside, a fire flickered—one he could not snuff out.
---
That night, rebellion won. He slid the window open and slipped into the shadows, moving like a ghost among adventurers who roamed freely. Every story, every whispered legend of daring deeds, filled him with a hunger—not for food, but for life itself.
But freedom is never free. His mother's hand landed with a sharp crack across his cheek.
"Saber! How dare you!" she shouted. "Do you understand the danger you've put yourself in?"
"Yes… Mother," he murmured, tasting guilt and pain, yet savoring the thrill of escape.
---
Two days later, his father confronted him.
"We need to talk," he said, calm and unnervingly precise. "Open your palm."
The first strike landed with bone-cracking force. Saber flinched. Blood seeped between his fingers. Pain followed him like a shadow, day after day, test after failed test. Punishments came again and again, until he no longer felt it. The strikes became routine, a rhythm to his obedience, masking the storm building inside him.
That night, lying on his bloodied sheets, Saber whispered to the ceiling:
"I… I want… freedom…"
---
Sleep took him—and reality shattered.
He awoke in a timeline where he had massacred his parents. Shock froze him. He trembled, questioning every sight, every sound.
"No… this… can't be…"
Unspecific wishes hurled him through deserts, wastelands, and twisted realities. Each leap shredded his mind, twisting him toward the edge of madness. The voices of countless Sabers whispered in his ears. Every failure, every punishment, every tear—the echoes layered upon him like weights he could never discard.
Finally, desperation drove him to speak with clarity, aloud:
"I want to go back."
The Ken answered. Reality bent. He awoke in his bedroom, alone, intact—but forever changed.
---
He understood now. His power could traverse timelines. Escape reality. Live countless possibilities. But only if his mind willed it.
Saber tested it relentlessly, each jump pushing his body and mind to the brink. Yet, exhaustion claimed him again and again.
When he awoke next, he was in a timeline unlike any other. No academy. No parents. Only the dumpsite beneath three pale moons, the scent of metal and ash in the air, the cries of scavengers drifting on the wind. The chaos of the world unfolded before him, raw, untamed, alive.
For the first time, he was free.
He rose, every memory of punishment, endless timelines, and shattered reality leaving him. No longer Saber Augustine… he was Tharnos now.
The Sloth had awakened.
---