We sat in a small room with a round table before us, seats arranged neatly around it.
Mirabel rested on my right. Sansir sat across from me.
Maps of the planet lined the walls, alongside ancient swords and relics of forgotten eras, manuals of strategy, and blueprints for weapons yet unmade.
The air was heavy, almost oppressive. It felt as though the weight of history pressed down on us, silent and expectant.
If one listened closely, there was a faint hum. It sounded like the world itself watching, patient, uncaring, eternal.
I placed my hands on the table. "Fertical will not rest in their efforts," I said, my voice low and deliberate.
Sansir leaned back, crossing his arms. "So should we begin placing forces near the border?"
Mirabel shook her head. "No. It would be too noticeable. Besides…" She hesitated. "What about the people?"
She was right.
War could not start in haste. Malachi would arrive soon, and subtlety mattered more than speed.
"Instead," I said, "we must secretly prepare funds, rations, and, most importantly… weapons."
Anstalionah was a superpower on this planet, one of the largest weapon producers in existence.
We earned most of our wealth through arms. We held the strongest army.
A population of over a billion supported nearly ten million soldiers ready for mobilization.
Of course, knights could not simply be thrown into battle.
Most were assigned to hunt the monsters roaming our lands. Anstalionah suffered the worst infestations, and the climate rarely offered mercy.
Snow was rare. Cold was constant.
Natural disasters erupted with a strange, almost otherworldly force, as if the planet itself breathed chaos.
Above, stars collapsed into singularities without warning. Storms tore at the fabric of space itself, invisible claws dragging at reality.
The planet survived only because everything beyond it was far more lethal.
Cosmic radiation drifted through the sky. Colossal beasts that could consume galaxies passed silently, indifferent to human life.
Phenomena capable of erasing entire civilizations occurred without intent or malice.
This planet endured only by clinging to a fragile equilibrium.
[Nicholas found himself complacent with his life, a lucky bastard.]
A vein popped as the voice spoke, and still I admitted the truth.
Humanity, ever foolish, chose to fight among itself.
We are all bastards.
"I would argue showing the populace, and Fertical, our readiness would benefit us," Sansir said flatly.
"Their army has nearly thirty percent less mass than ours. They cannot handle an offensive."
Monsters alone would break them.
I sighed. "Regardless, some things must remain hidden. Fertical has Horia."
Mirabel caught her breath. "I could beat him."
Bold words from a woman who had died to him in my previous life. That failure had been mine.
"It doesn't matter," I said, my voice steady. "You will not be on the front lines. Focus on defense."
Sansir frowned. "Defense? Do you think they might send an army to the capital?"
"Our capital, also named Anstalionah, is rarely threatened," I said. "That is not the issue."
I paused.
"Madikai."
"He would come. I am sure of it. Malachi will lead the army, so someone capable must remain."
I looked at Mirabel. "That will be you."
She opened her mouth to protest, but before a word left her lips, a knock sounded at the door.
A maid stepped in.
She had long, straight black hair and dark eyes that mirrored mine. Her skin was like polished obsidian.
The resemblance was undeniable.
She extended her arm, and behind her entered a man.
His hair was bluish black. His eyes were deep as the ocean. His skin carried the tone of wet sand.
Polished clothes adorned him, jewels and gold accents lining every seam.
He stepped in with measured grace as the maid closed the door. Then he bowed deeply.
"I greet the darkness which shall prevail over light, Nicholas Anstalionah," Malachi declared.
His voice was eager. His power filled the room like a dam about to break.
This was Malachi Novastia, Duke of Novastia, one of the most powerful men in Anstalionah.
"You may rise," I said. "Come. Sit. We shall fill you in on what we have discussed."
He took the seat beside Sansir and waved his hand dismissively. "I heard. And I have my own opinion."
We fell silent.
"It would be wise," he said, "to spend funding on helping the people."
Mirabel frowned. "We already have the most progressive society. What more do they need?"
He laughed. "Monsters, Mirabel. Most deaths come from them. Nearly ninety percent of casualties."
She grit her teeth. "And how do you expect us to change that? We can barely afford all the knights we send to hunt them!"
Sansir grew nervous. Malachi looked irritated. Mirabel looked enraged.
Those two always clashed. Malachi was blunt and loyal. Mirabel despised that bluntness.
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. "We shall create a government-funded organization to hire people to hunt monsters."
Malachi blinked. "That idea has failed many times. It always fails."
"Because it was done incorrectly," I said. "It will be government-funded."
I paused.
"But it will be run by the people."
Sansir stared at me. "You would fund something that gives us no profit?"
I smiled. "How much do you think we spend on monster extermination each month?"
"One hundred gold coins?" Sansir guessed.
Mirabel almost laughed. Malachi scoffed.
"More like one million," I said, cold and precise.
Malachi leaned forward, intrigued. Sansir coughed.
"That much?" Sansir asked. "Then how much would funding this organization cost?"
Malachi answered first. "Buildings, rewards, support. Around eighty percent less."
"And that's not counting the taxes hunters would pay," I added.
Mirabel's expression softened. She was hooked.
Sansir looked more confused than ever.
"So why does it fail?" Sansir asked.
Malachi spoke. "Weakness. Overwhelming weakness. Hunting causes too much death."
I slammed my fist on the table.
Silence fell over the room.
"That is why we must regulate it," I said.
In truth, I had seen this system in Falsus, a southernmost nation that developed it years later in my previous life.
[Nicholas was evil like that, stealing such an idea.]
I chuckled inwardly at the voice.
It was snarky, was it not?
All three of them turned to me as I continued.
"I know trusting me may be difficult," I said slowly.
"But my ideas… I believe they will solve all our problems."
Malachi stared at me with sharp, almost predatory interest. It was as if he were studying a creature he had never seen before.
"You," he said slowly, "you seem different. What sparked this change?"
I leaned back. I let my expression shift.
I let the truth settle into the room like a blade pressed against a throat.
"I want to slaughter all those who oppose me and anyone I care for."
Silence followed.
It was heavy and unmoving, the kind that clung to the skin.
Even the faint hum in the walls, that quiet, fearful thrum, seemed to pause.
I continued, my voice steady.
"I am a foolish, lazy, weak, and downright ugly prince. I shall change that."
[Nicholas had many resolutions he needed to accomplish. He was a foolish man. However, his ambition was endless.]
I scoffed, my jaw tightening.
So what am I?
[Nicholas was a fool. The Endless Fool.]
The voice struck me like a hammer wrapped in silk.
Gentle. Absolute.
Something in me convulsed as the name settled into my core, reshaping something fundamental.
This voice…
It could grant me titles.