The Challenge
The palace gates opened, and the entire nation seemed to hold its breath. All eyes were wide, desperate to glimpse their new Crown Prince.
High above them, the King sat upon the highest throne, overseeing the spectacle.
He threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly, the sound booming across the silent hall.
With the herald's announcement, Siam entered the palace.
He wore robes that were light yet extravagant—attire that suggested he was ready not just to sit on a throne, but to march to war. He was prepared.
The Third Prince, seated to the side, pressed his hands hard against his legs.
His gaze was sharp, cutting through the air toward the walking Siam.
Siam ignored the glare. Without a care in the world, he walked step by step toward the throne, then knelt before the King.
"Hahaha! Come, dear child. Get up. I finally have someone who can share my burden, especially after the demise of all my sons in the war."
The King's voice wavered slightly, a hint of moisture in his eyes.
"I will not disappoint you, Grandfather."
"Hahaha. Yes, yes. That is how it should be."
The King settled back into his throne, his expression hardening into one of authority.
"Start the coronation."
Siam smiled, then turned his head slightly to look at his Third Cousin.
The Prince's eyes had gone practically crimson with rage, veins bulging against his neck.
As expected.
The Third Prince stood up abruptly.
"I have been meaning to say this, Grandfather, yet I couldn't find the right time," the Third Prince announced, his voice ringing out.
"Our Siam is the youngest. We shouldn't burden him with such heavy responsibilities."
Siam's smirk didn't falter.
"You are too kind, Third Cousin," Siam replied, his tone smooth.
"But Cousin need not worry. His Highness, our Grandfather, chose me specifically. So, you need not worry about the burden of ruling.
The Crown Prince must shoulder the weight of the whole nation. How could I dare let you, my senior, suffer that?"
Siam's eyebrow raised, his expression clearly mocking.
His smirk was like oil on a fire. Pure fury pumped through the Third Prince's veins, adrenaline spiking with every second.
"Still... I cannot be at ease to burden you, little Siam," the Third Prince said through gritted teeth, forcing a strained smile.
"And not just that—an inefficient ruler may dethrone the kingdom. The people will suffer."
Just as Siam was about to retort, the Prime Minister stood up.
"What the Third Prince says is not totally invalid, Your Highness," the Prime Minister said gravely.
"Prince Siam is indeed young, merely in his twenties."
"He might be young, but he is intelligent, Prime Minister," another official countered.
"And it has been our tradition. Why change now?"
Hearing the squabble, the King coughed once.
The sound was soft, yet the entire palace froze instantly. Absolute silence descended.
"What do you propose, Third Prince?" the King asked.
The Third Prince stepped forward, shedding his mask of concern.
"Let us have a duel of life and death, Grandfather.
Whoever wins takes the throne.
Since Siam has already proven his wits, let this be the final test.
If we brothers are no longer around to protect little Siam, he must prove he will never be killed by enemies."
The King didn't ask for the court's permission. He didn't consult the ministers. He simply stared at his third grandson with unwavering eyes.
Then, he looked at Siam.
Siam met his gaze and nodded.
The King leaned forward. "Continue. If anyone dies today, let it be at your own cost."
The Monk's Mercy
As soon as the King gave his word, the Third Prince's eyes flickered with a killing intent so potent it seemed to physically strike the air between them.
Siam's eyes burned a molten golden-red. Through this spiritual sight, the world shifted.
He saw the truth hidden from the court: a viscous black energy writhed and mingled with the Third Prince's aura, staining it a violent, corrupted crimson.
Siam looked around. The officials, the guards, even the King—no one else reacted. They couldn't see it.
Then, Sam's voice echoed in his head, cold and precise. "He had become a monster. You have to slay him."
Siam didn't speak. He simply walked with the crowd toward the arena, his steps silent and measured.
"Don't hesitate,"
Sam continued, her voice sharper now.
"Your hesitation means you are still only half-enlightened.
A true monk knows when to act.
If there is nothing in this world to escape, then even when you kill, you kill nothing.
You are simply... optimizing the world for others.
Release your brother from his own sins. Cleanse the world. Decrease its burden, one soul at a time."
Siam stopped in the center of the arena.
As soon as they entered, the Third Prince didn't wait for the signal.
He lunged forward, the sword in his hands humming, his sword intent turning a visible, bloody red with each strike.
"Enemies wait for no one, little brother!"
Clang!
They collided. Sparks flew. High above, the King's eyes fixated on his third grandson, watching every move.
Siam deflected the blow and, in the briefest opening, drove his sword intent directly at his cousin's neck.
"You are lost, brother," Siam whispered.
But the Third Prince twisted his body at an impossible angle, dodging the lethal blow mid-speech.
"War doesn't allow for voluntary submission, brother. Naive."
Though the Prince mocked him, his control slipped.
His sword intent finally lost its natural, color. A beam of jagged, crimson light shot forward.
The crowd gasped. Murmurs of confusion and fear rippled through the stands.
But the Third Prince no longer cared about appearances.
His legs blurred with supernatural speed, his intent sharpening into something jagged and wrong.
He shot forward again. When he looked up, his eyes were totally devoid of humanity—the whites gone, replaced entirely by pools of glowing crimson blood.
"He has finally lost his cool," Her voice echoed, sounding almost bored. "He is disregarding everything. If you don't do anything, he will consume the world. Let him die, Siam."