"If you become a Razor," the King said, his voice carrying across the hall, "you get whatever you want food, a proper house, anything you desire."
He looked directly at Sunny. "Come here."
Sunny stepped forward.
"Remove the glove," the King commanded.
Sunny slipped off the glove on his left hand, revealing a number etched on his skin.
"What is your kill count, Sunny?" the King asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
"two hundred, my King," Sunny replied calmly.
"And why do you have these numbers marked on your hand?" the King continued.
"It is to show my respect… to you, my King," Sunny answered.
The King smiled, a mix of pride and amusement in his gaze.
"two hundred kills… all for me," he said. Then, turning to the crowd, he continued, "And the astonishing part? Sunny is only seventeen. Your age, yet he has already shown the skill and the ruthless efficiency of a Razor. The youngest in our history to reach four hundred kills. He is the number one Razor in the Deadlands at seventeen years old."
A ripple of surprise spread through the crowd.
The boy farthest in the back couldn't hide a small gasp.
"When I first saw him," the King continued, "he was just a child skinny, almost nothing but bones. Sunny was a killer who stumbled into my territory after taking the lives of my men… at the age of four. Can you imagine that? Even in the Deadlands, the land of the dead, no one thought a lone child could survive hunger, thirst, and the endless dangers that awaited him. But he did. He survived. And I took him in. I trained him. Shaped him into the Razor you see before you today."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"Now… I ask you," the King said, turning his gaze to the new trainees, "do you want to become a Razor?"
"Yes, sir!" they all shouted in unison.
"Do you want to enjoy life to the fullest?"
"Yes, sir!" The hall echoed with their voices, loud and fierce.
"The time is now," the King declared, stepping outside to the sunlit courtyard.
The trainees roared in response, a storm of voices filling the Deadlands with energy, determination, and the unbreakable will to survive.
Together, they watched as the rest of the trainees shuffled into place, the King's words echoing in their ears. For many, it was just another day in the Deadlands. For others, it was the beginning of a life that would be carved out of blood, sweat, and obedience.
Sunny adjusted the strap of his bag, keeping one eye on the boy beside him. He knew the journey ahead would be perilous. But for now, they were here, alive, and part of something larger a chance to survive.
The king rolled the small silver coin between his fingers, letting the symbol of a coiled viper catch the light. The mark shimmered, sharp and unmistakable.
"My boy Sunny told me everything that happened on the road," the king said calmly. "Including the part where you were being hunted. So…" He flicked the coin into the air and caught it effortlessly. "Tell me—why does the Viper want you? Dead or alive?"
The boy's legs trembled. His throat tightened.
"I–I d-don't know, Sovereign."
The king's lips curled into a slow smirk. "Is that so? Then we'll see if your actions speak louder than your lies." He tilted his head slightly.
"Sunny."
"Yes, my king."
"Let him earn his keep. Take him to the Ground. If the Viper wants him, I want to see why."
Sunny nodded. "You heard the king. You take him," he ordered, motioning to a nearby warrior.
The boy was dragged away, still confused and terrified.
The king exhaled slowly as he watched him go. "The boy looks suspicious. He's hiding something, but I can't place my finger on it yet."
His eyes shifted to Sunny.
"You understand, boy?"
"Yes, Sovereign."
Before the conversation could continue, quick footsteps echoed through the hall.
A boy dressed in black pushed through the crowd, face twisted in frustration.
"Father!"
The king raised an eyebrow. "What is it, my boy?"
"I was handling the job you gave me the cargo, the drifters. All of it." His voice cracked with anger. "But you sent Sunny instead. You made me look like a fool in front of everyone! Why?"
The hall went silent. Sunny stepped back slightly, letting father and son face each other.
"You don't need to worry about that," the king finally replied. "We have bigger issues on our hands. Drifters aren't our only problem anymore."
The prince blinked. "What do you mean? Another Sovereign is moving against us?"
"Oh, she calls herself a Sovereign," the king scoffed. "A queen, even. But she murdered her master and stole her title."
"It doesn't matter what she calls herself," the prince argued. "What matters is what she controls."
His father narrowed his eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"We need her crude oil, father! Without it, the food factories will shut down. Our crops will rot before they even leave the fields. You know this."
The king remained silent, but the tension in his jaw said he agreed.
Sunny stepped forward. "If we attack her first, the other kings and queens will see it as a violation of the treaty. A strike from us means a strike from all."
The prince clenched his fists. "But if we don't strike soon, we may not have anything left to protect!"
"Enough," the king said, raising a hand. He took a long breath, his gaze distant. "We do not attack the Viper. Not yet. We sit… and wait. We watch how this show unfolds."
"But—"
"That is final."
The prince fell silent, jaw tight with resentment.
The king turned to Sunny. "Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day."
"It's my honor, Sovereign," Sunny said with a respectful bow.
As he left, the prince watched him with thinly veiled envy, his eyes following Sunny's every step. He hated how easily Sunny stood beside the king… how effortlessly he earned trust… how naturally he fit into the place the prince believed should be his.