Chapter 18: The Landless King – Part 3
A cool breeze brushed through the alleyways of the Durmount capital, carrying the scent of spice, smoke, and unspoken dread. Leornars Servs Avrem walked with quiet purpose through the bustling market, his cloak fluttering behind him like a shadow. He moved from tavern to tavern, ears open, words few. Eyes followed him, some curious, others fearful—but none dared approach.
Eventually, he settled beside an alleyway, resting on a wooden crate damp with the sweat of the city.
"Hmm... so the humans are afraid of liberation? Afraid of revolt?" he murmured, eyes narrowing. "How ironic. Beings who consider themselves the apex of the food chain, quaking at the idea of losing control. I wonder... if I sided with the demons, what would become of their oh-so-proud race?"
As he pondered, commotion stirred behind him. A slave smuggling operation was unfolding just meters away—six humans dragging a struggling elf into the shadows. Leornars sighed, irritated.
"Can't even have a moment's peace…" he muttered, rising.
Then came the voices.
Echoes.
Familiar. Terrifying.
Inside his skull, memories twisted into cruel whispers—versions of himself long buried.
> "Would mother accept you for what you've become?"
"You think you're strong? No... you're weak. Worthless."
"Mother didn't die so you could become a barbarian."
"They called us a curse. Let's prove them right."
His body trembled. Cold sweat rolled down his temple as he staggered into the wall, gripping his head.
> "Shut up… all of you."
His voice shook.
But they wouldn't stop.
> "I said SHUT UP!"
He thrust out a hand and summoned Bellian, the crimson-eyed demon knight cloaked in ethereal armor.
"G-Go... save that slave," Leornars rasped. "No matter what..."
But Bellian hesitated. For the first time ever, he refused.
He knelt.
Leornars' voice turned icy.
"That's an order."
Bellian vanished.
Leornars staggered deeper into the alleyway, head still pulsing, vision blurring.
"Where do you think you're going?" he grunted to himself.
His legs gave out. The slavers surrounded him like vultures.
"Let's sell this one too," one of them said. "He looks... rare."
Leornars gritted his teeth, trying to summon Ascian—his phantom blade—but darkness overcame him.
He collapsed.
---
Just as blood was about to be spilled, Bellian reappeared, this time with Stacian at his side.
The cheerful, white-haired girl surveyed the scene—the slaves, the traders... and Leornars, unconscious on the ground.
Her smile vanished.
Her blue eyes darkened to void-like black, her hair bleeding to obsidian.
"You insects…" she said coldly. "You dared to harm the only one who ever treated me like I mattered?"
A low hum reverberated through the alley.
"I hate violence—but this? I'll make an exception."
Walls twisted. Routes shifted. The alleyway sealed itself in.
Then came the screams.
When the silence returned, Stacian emerged, carrying Leornars on her back. Pieces of flesh clung to her feet like paint after a massacre.
---
Leornars awoke in darkness.
No—not darkness.
It was the dungeon of Kurnov.
He stood... watching himself.
An illusion? No—it hurt. Pain seeped into every nerve. He watched as he relived the slaughter of ten thousand. Watched his mother die again and again.
For hours it continued.
Until...
"Leornars."
Two shadows hovered above.
Stacian and Bellian.
He sat up on the bed, breath ragged, eyes bloodshot.
"How long was I out?"
Stacian replied calmly, "Three days. Seven hours."
His eyes widened.
"Shit… I was out that long? I could've started the revolt by now—assassinated leaders, disrupted supply lines—dammit! My plan... it's ruined just because I slept?!"
He stood abruptly, pacing.
"No. No—I'll improvise. I need to cause a commotion, something big. Something the royals can't ignore. I don't have a kingdom, so attacking theirs is suicide. I'll take this one… or start my own."
He stopped, eyes burning.
"If I use the elf princess, spark a war… yes, that might work. Heh… what am I saying? I'm a sick bastard anyway. A tainted light."
He turned to the door, speaking without looking.
"There were slaves I meant to rescue… What happened to them?"
"I freed them," Stacian said. "I knew you'd want that."
"Good." He paused. "We're almost on equal footing now. But I still need to decide... can I trust you? Or should I kill you?"
> Even your shadow abandons you in darkness.
"I see," he finally said aloud. "You did well."
Opening the door, he was surprised to find a group of demi-humans waiting outside.
"Huh? Are they here to fight me?" he wondered, tensing.
"They're the ones you saved," Stacian explained.
"Oh." His fist relaxed. "She was just in time. Another two seconds and I'd have killed them all."
He glanced sideways at her.
"And the traders?"
Stacian answered plainly, "I killed them all."
A soft smirk flickered across Leornars' face.
"Good job… Stacian von Gremoriah."
From behind, cheers erupted.
"He's awake!"
"The king has returned!"
"Our master lives!"
Leornars stepped forward.
Their voices didn't matter.
Not really.
Only one thing mattered.
> "Perfect. Just what I needed."
His gaze turned sharp.
> "I don't care how many lives are lost. I don't care how many suffer. So long as Durmount falls... I'll smile.
With Stacian and Bellian, the rest are nothing. The sky may be blue, but beyond it... there's only darkness."
And with that, the landless king walked forward, surrounded by cheers and shadows, toward a destiny drenched in blood and revolt.
---
To be continued…