The sky was too blue for an execution day.
Kael noticed that first, blinking against the sharp glare of the sun. No clouds. No wind. Just that piercing, indifferent blue, like even the heavens couldn't be bothered to mourn him.
Chains rattled as he was dragged up the marble steps of the execution tower. The crowd below roared—not in grief, not in protest, but in excitement. Hungry. Loud. The sound of betrayal was deafening.
He could barely walk, his knees raw from being dragged through the stone courtyard. Blood stained his once-white robes. Not royal anymore. Just a prisoner. Just a name they wanted to forget.
"Kael Varian, former Crown Prince of the Asthuran Empire," the High Inquisitor announced to the masses. His voice echoed across the square, booming from the magic amplifiers sewn into the tower walls. "Convicted of treason, murder, and conspiring with demons. Sentence: death by divine blade."
Lies. Every word.
Kael didn't even flinch. What was the point? The crowd wouldn't listen. His voice had been silenced long before today.
He looked up at the platform, and his heart stopped.
She was there.
Elaine.
Golden hair tied up in noble braids. Her violet eyes were rimmed red, but her expression was cold—composed like always. She was the Emperor's ward. His childhood friend. His promised bride.
The one who had given the final testimony against him.
Kael's throat went dry. He tried to speak, but the guards shoved him to his knees. The stone was warm under him. Sun-drenched. Clean. As if it hadn't tasted blood before.
"Do you have any final words?" the Inquisitor asked.
Kael turned his head to the crowd. Thousands watching. Some threw fruit. Others stones. None of them saw him as anything more than a villain in a story they'd already written.
He looked back at Elaine.
"...You were always better at lying than I was," he murmured.
She didn't blink. Didn't react.
Then she walked forward.
The crowd held its breath.
She knelt beside him. Her perfume was still the same—wild roses and morning rain. It used to calm him.
Now it made his stomach twist.
Elaine leaned close, her lips just beside his ear. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"You should've stayed silent about the tomb."
Kael's eyes widened.
So that was it.
The ancient tomb. The forbidden knowledge buried deep beneath the capital. He'd found it—by accident. He'd seen what the Empire had been hiding for generations.
And now he was dying for it.
Elaine kissed his cheek. Soft. Almost gentle. For a second, he remembered dancing with her under the moonlight at the Winter Ball. He remembered her laughing.
Then she stood and nodded to the executioner.
"Let justice be done."
The divine blade shimmered with runes, humming with holy energy. Forged in the temples, it was said to sever soul from body cleanly, painlessly.
A mercy.
Kael closed his eyes.
And the sword fell.
---
Darkness.
At first, it was nothing.
No sound. No feeling. Just a floating, endless void.
Then—a voice.
> "Your soul resists decay. Curious."
It wasn't male or female. Not human. It echoed inside his skull like a whisper wrapped in thunder.
> "You saw the sealed tomb. You heard its secrets. You touched its door."
Kael tried to move, but he had no body. No breath. Just awareness. Conscious thought.
> "I am the Forbidden System. Sealed by the gods. Locked beneath the roots of your Empire for a thousand years."
> "And now, you are my host."
Kael didn't answer. Couldn't. The voice pushed deeper.
> "You were betrayed. Killed unjustly. Your soul has a price, and I offer you a bargain."
> "In exchange for my power, you will rise again."
> "But each life you take… each soul you command… will feed the curse inside you."
A pause.
> "Do you accept?"
Kael didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
---
Pain.
Fire seared through his veins. Bones cracked. Muscles tore and rebuilt themselves. He screamed—only there was no air. Just a phantom cry in the void.
Then—
He gasped, and real air filled his lungs.
He was alive.
Kael's eyes flew open, and he choked on dirt. He was lying in a field. Mud. Rain. A broken fence. His body felt wrong—smaller, thinner. Weak. His hands shook.
They weren't his.
"Don't move!"
A girl's voice—panicked, sharp. He turned his head.
A young woman with copper hair and a dagger stood over him. Her cloak was torn, and she was bleeding from the shoulder.
Behind her, a man in black armor raised a sword.
"Get away from him, Lira! He's already dead!"
Kael's instincts kicked in.
No. Not dead. Not anymore.
The System whispered.
> "Use me."
His hand rose on its own, trembling. Shadows leaked from his fingertips, curling like smoke.
The man lunged.
Kael's mouth moved.
"Decay."
A pulse exploded from his palm—black and gold. The armored man froze mid-step. His skin grayed. Flesh withered. Armor rusted in seconds.
And then he collapsed, nothing but a dried-out corpse.
Lira gasped. "What… what did you do?!"
Kael sat up slowly. His head pounded. The System was silent now, like it had gone back to sleep.
He looked at her—mud on her face, fear in her eyes. She was young, maybe seventeen, but something in her gaze felt sharp. Like she wasn't new to danger.
"...I saved you," he said, his voice hoarse.
She backed away. "That… that wasn't healing magic. That was something else."
Kael didn't answer. He looked down at his hands. Pale. Scarred. Definitely not his old body.
But alive.
Alive.
---
In the distance, horns sounded.
Lira cursed under her breath. "More soldiers. Damn it, they're sweeping the border."
She hesitated, then threw him a cloak. "Cover your face. If they see what you just did, they'll kill you again."
Kael blinked. "Again?"
She froze.
He smirked. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
They ran.
And in Kael's mind, the voice whispered again.
> "Welcome back… Forsaken Monarch."