"Why are you doing this to me?"
"You are a shameless b*tch! I hope you burn in the eternal fire of rage!"
A male voice echoed, full of rage, desperation, and pure sorrow, as if a tiger had clawed his chest out and stolen his heart.
Luke groaned. Even this could not pull him from sleep.
What even is that? I'm sleeping here! Can you even shut it!
Annoyed, his anger flared like a feral Chihuahua shaking itself raw. He glanced around, only to see empty space. No one in sight. Sleep was precious, far more valuable than money… except, of course, if someone paid a million for it. He would happily accept.
"This is a dream, but where in nine hell am I?" Luke muttered, scanning for clues. But only empty space here, just like his lonely heart.
There was no way he'd been thrown into this void by accident. There only two choice he had, he could go back to sleep on the ground or walk through the darkness.
Hesitating no longer, he walked. The empty space stretched endlessly as he went further into the dream.
Krrr krrr…
That voice again the one that had been gnawing at his patience all day.
I swear if I hear that one more time…
Kyuuu kyu kyu
THAT'S IT.
Turning sharply that he almost lash out, he saw a tiny light behind him, floating like a lone star in the darkness. Luke calm down a bit as he saw the light.
Instinctively, Luke followed, drawn like a moth. As he moved, more lights appeared, dancing like fireflies, guiding him forward. His eyes shut when the light surrounds him.
The lights coalesced, revealing a massive throne room. The blue banners bore the kingdom's crest a golden sun with twelve radiant lines embroidered in meticulous detail with golden thread. A royal blue carpet stretched from the doors to the throne, commanding reverence.
Men of apparent importance filled the room: councilors, knights, church officials. They bowed instinctively as Luke's gaze swept over them from the throne.
This was a memory the OG Luke as king. Luke could not move or act, yet what he felt was physical: the body felt stiff, unnatural, almost alien.
What does this Luke even do that makes his body so rigid? He wondered, since all the time since he woke up in this body, it felt uncomfortable.
A councilor stepped forward, voice trembling:
"Your Majesty, please reconsider this matter. The land has been at peace for years there is no need for war."
"I agree, Your Majesty," another added, "as head of the imperial knights, we cannot engage in war lightly."
"Engaging in a needless war defies the will of the god." One member of church official added.
The room erupted in murmurs, but Luke, trapped in the OG Luke's perspective, understood immediately: disagreement was inevitable.
Why would a peaceful kingdom need to go to war?
Luke opened his mouth, powerless, as Luke commanded, "Whoever disagrees, raise your hand."
Every hand shot up.
Luke eyes moved over to all the hand that raised.
"Fine. You may put your hands down." Luke's voice was calm, unshakable. His gaze then landed on a trembling, ordinary guard.
"You there. Come here."
The man flinched violently, his body shaking as he approached. Luke rose slowly from the throne each step echoed like a drum of doom as he step down from the stairs of his throne. Hand sliding into his sleeve, he drew a black bishop piece, approaching the guard with deliberate precision.
"This is not my fault. Your refusal makes this your burden to carry." he said, tone cold and unforgiving.
As he approach Luke press the chess piece gently on the guard breast plate. As Luke drawn his hand back the Bishop pierced the guard's iron breastplate and then flesh. A scream tore through the hall, echoing like a bell of despair. Blood stained the royal carpet, his colors draining rapidly. The smell of metal filled the room adding more horror to what they saw.
Luke's stomach churned at the sight. OG Luke's cruelty was unfathomable.
What the hell!
The head of the knights rushed forward, kneeling frantically.
"Your Highness! Please, punish me instead! He is innocent a new recruit, he has not offended you!"
"None of it is my concern," Luke replied softly, turning back to the throne, not even spare any glance as he walk back. Even with his back turned it already spoke how merciless and coldness in his authority.
The young guard's scream abruptly stopped; he collapsed to the floor, motionless. Then, almost immediately, he rose again. Bleeding ceased. But his body was empty, soulless.
"Berno… are you alright?" the knight whispered in concern, voice trembling. His hand checked the guard chest but it was completely healed like nothing happened.
No answer. The man's head hung low, then slowly lifted. His eyes were void-black, tears of shadow streaming over skin as pale as paper.
Some gasped. Others froze in silent terror. The knight beside him fell backward, chest heaving, skin icy, body trembling.
"Whoever disagrees can meet the same fate," Luke's voice rang, calm, deliberate, and deadly. "If you think it will be you, you are wrong. You will live but your family will bear your choice."
He leaned slightly on the throne, arm resting with casual dominance, his eyes sweeping the hall.
"Let me ask once again: does anyone disagree with my decision? Raise your hand."
Silence. Only stolen glances toward the young guard betrayed the terror in their hearts.
"So you all agree with my decision?" Luke's tone was soft but carried an inescapable weight, commanding obedience.
"Y-Yes… we are, Your Majesty," voices faltered.
"Good." He tapped a boot lightly against the cold marble, the echo cutting through the silence like a warning.
"Prepare the troops. We will win triumphantly."
It was not merely an order it was a demand, an inevitability, a statement that disobedience was unimaginable. Every soul in the room understood: Luke did not bargain. He dictated fate itself.