Chapter 8: The Mad King's Shadow
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Asharic's POV
"Looks like you're not dead, you mad man."
The voice wasn't in my head this time.
It came from behind me... low, mocking, too familiar.
I turned slowly.
A royal knight stood there with arms crossed, chest puffed like a rooster trying to impress hens. His uniform was standard Silver Guard... black dragon insignia, slightly frayed, barely polished. His boots were well-worn. Hair trimmed but thinning. Somewhere in his early forties, stuck in his rank for far too long.
My gaze dropped to the faded sigil on his chest.
He wasn't just any knight. He belonged to this palace.
That made him worse.
My lips twitched.
Who the hell is this bastard?
I'm already not in the mood.
And this fucker just made it worse.
"What are you staring at?" he barked, stepping forward with smugness only a rotting dog could carry. "What? Dumb now, after lying in bed like a useless sack of meat?"
So he's that type.
The kind of man who forgets who he's speaking to when no one's around.
The kind who pisses on his own post the second the leash slips off.
I didn't answer.
He grinned wider.
"This is perfect. No one's here," he whispered, arms spreading slightly, like he was offering a twisted gift. "If I kill you now, no one would know. Then only I will be left beside Her Majesty…"
His Majesty?
No.
He meant the First Wife.
Saerlira.
His eyes glinted... wild, pathetic, desperate. He wrapped his arms around himself, trembling in something far too close to arousal.
"Even if someone found out," he continued, "I'd just say you went crazy again and attacked me first."
My fingers curled into fists.
He just said that. To my face.
And yet... the rage burning inside wasn't only because of him.
It was because of me.
Or at least, the version of me that existed in the novel.
Asharic, the Mad Emperor.
A side character. A footnote. A forgotten villain.
He went mad.
He began attacking anyone who came near him, friend or servant.
Eventually, no one dared approach.
The one who shut him away was his second wife... Anevra.
She locked the palace.
Declared him secluded.
Only the consorts were allowed to enter after that.
Even the guards avoided this place. It became a tomb with a heartbeat.
His role in the novel was short. Pitiful. A cautionary tale.
And yet... he didn't just vanish.
He became the reason Anevra died.
She stayed when no one else would. Protected him until her last breath.
That's all the novel said.
Why?
I don't know.
Not yet.
But I remember that much. And even now, just thinking about it…
My jaw tightened. Heat coiled beneath my ribs.
I don't care if I wasn't him.
I am now.
And this man... this roach... has the gall to speak of the first wife like he owns her?
As if I'm already dead?
He has forgotten who he's talking to.
No...
He never knew in the first place.
The anger surged through my veins, slow and steady, like fire waking from sleep.
I rose from the stone bench without a word.
My shadow stretched under the sun behind me.
And my eyes... deep red, blood-slicked... locked onto his with a calm that only meant one thing.
Violence.
"I know your reality," the knight spat, taking slow steps toward me. "They all think you've been locked up in here to train, to grow stronger."
His voice held no respect... just mockery. And something worse: certainty.
"But I know the truth. You weren't meditating or mastering some secret technique. You were sick. Bedridden."
He sneered.
"I was at Her Majesty's side long enough to see it. You've been rotting in a damn bed for years."
His hand moved toward his blade.
"That kind of ill man just stands there and lets himself be cut down."
The sword came free with a hiss. He pointed it lazily toward me.
"Just stay there… I'll make it quick."
He thinks I'm too weak to fight back.
...Not that he's entirely wrong.
Staying in bed for so long has affected this body.
My center's unstable. My movements feel slower than I remember. The pressure in my skull is still there—like hot needles behind my eyes.
This isn't the body I once had.
But if it had continued training all these years…
I'd be beyond a Swordmaster by now.
Instead, I'm stuck in this halfway state.
Even handling this bastard might be trouble.
I don't feel like myself.
Or maybe… it's because I'm no longer just myself.
The dragon blood… whatever it's done to me…
I feel wrong. Off balance. Like something ancient is still trying to wake up inside me.
But even so...
Just look at this fool.
He's walking toward me with no guard up.
Like he thinks I'm a cripple. Like I'm already dead.
Fine. I'll show him what happens when you lower your guard against someone who used to be a monster.
He approached casually, sword lifted. A wide, half-assed swing... slow, arrogant.
Was this it?
Did he really expect to kill me with something like that?
He looked at me with that smug face, like this was the final blow in some great war. Like I was going to stand still, take it, and fall.
I shifted slightly... barely a twist of the hips.
My left toe dug in.
I found my balance, gathered my weight.
Then I moved.
My right leg snapped out, hard and fast... clean form, straight through the center. I didn't even think. It was instinct.
I used to be a master of martial arts.
Kicking had always been my favorite technique.
Thuck!
My foot hit him square in the gut with more force than I expected.
He flew back... body folding, breath stolen, eyes wide in shock.
He slammed into the ground like a sack of meat.
Dust kicked up. The air rang with silence.
Even the breeze seemed to pause.
I stood there, blinking once.
Was that… it?
I hadn't even used a quarter of my strength.
But he got up... barely.
He staggered, one hand around his stomach, the other trembling.
His posture was off. His stance broken.
And that look on his face...
That wasn't a knight anymore.
That was just a man who realized he was staring at something far beyond him.
Good.
Let's keep going.
"You… You madman!" the knight shouted, his voice cracked with rage. "I was going to go easy on you!"
His hand trembled as he raised his sword again. This time, no arrogance.
"I'll show you no mercy. I'll cut you down slowly."
His aura flared.
Blue light erupted from his blade like a flame igniting in midair... sharp, alive, hungry.
Finally… he's using Aura.
He should've done that from the start.
Right.
I'm not in the world I came from. I need to fight like he would've fought... the previous owner of this body.
The knight's stance shifted... lower, tighter.
His eyes burned with focus.
And now… his sword glowed, not just with Aura but with intent.
He's going to use a technique this time.
I braced myself.
I don't know the limits of this body, not yet.
But I need to hold nothing back. Not when I'm still this weak.
He vanished...
No, he moved... faster than before.
And in an instant, he was right in front of me.
A wide swing came from the right.
I saw it.
I leaned back, barely avoiding the blade by a breath.
Another strike... left side this time. Sharp. Fluid.
I kicked back to dodge...
Too slow.
The blade grazed my arm. A line of red bloomed.
"Tch…"
This world's swordplay is something else.
I'm used to fighting barehanded. Without a weapon, I could take down trained soldiers.
But with a sword? Against someone trained like him?
I'm not confident.
And I don't even have a damn weapon.
All I have… is instinct.
(Wait... didn't he grab one from the dragon's lair?
Damn it. Too much was going on, so he forgot.)
He moved again... this time a downward slash. Fast, brutal.
I rolled under it, feeling the wind tear past my cheek.
Damn. He's fast.
This is what a real knight is capable of.
I need to do something. Fast.
...Focus your Aura.
Not just into your limbs...into your eyes.
See his movements. Read him.
I breathed in. Pulled what little Aura I had and channeled it through my eyes.
Everything sharpened.
The blur became form.
The swing became a pattern.
He was using a technique... but now I could see it.
His angles, his timing…
They weren't flawless.
I dodged. Again. And again.
And with each step, each breath... I felt more in sync with this body.
Ah. So that's how Aura works here.
It's not just strength.
It's control.
He came at me with the same pattern again.
Big mistake.
I ducked... but instead of moving back, I closed the distance.
Straight into his face.
So close that he couldn't even lift his sword.
I jumped... knee crashing straight into his jaw.
Crack!
He stumbled. Lost balance.
I didn't stop.
I drew in the last of my Aura... channeled it through my fist. I shifted into perfect stance, weight aligned... then slammed a punch straight into his side.
But...!
He gritted his teeth and swung. A final, desperate arc.
He had poured everything into that one strike.
Our attacks collided...
DANG!
The sound echoed through the ruined hall.
I was pushed back, boots scraping.
He was sent flying.
My hand throbbed. Blood trickled from my knuckles.
My Aura was weak. His was stronger.
So… why was he the one who flew?
My body shook. My breath was ragged.
Even a knight poses this much of a threat to me… right now.
Is this really my level?
That strike... it was even stronger than I expected.
And still...
He stood up again.
Blood dripped from his mouth, painting his jaw.
But his eyes… they still burned.
Damn it. I thought that was over.
I don't have time to think. I need to finish him.
I stepped forward... but he didn't meet me.
He turned.
And ran.
Not at me. Away.
"You bastard...!"
You start a fight… and then run?
Coward.
I was about to chase him down... make him regret ever drawing that sword.
But then...
"Grrk—!"
Pain exploded behind my eyes.
I stumbled.
My vision blurred.
Shit. My head again...
I clutched my skull, gritting my teeth.
My knees buckled.
I was going to kill him...!
But my legs gave out.
I hit the floor. The world spun.
So this is my current limit…
I'm not ready. Not for what's coming.
Damn this body…
I need to rest...just for a...
"Asharic!"
A voice called out through the haze.
Familiar. Soft. Urgent.
I turned...
It was her.
Anevra.
The world swam.
Right…
I'll think later. Plan later.
Right now…
I need sleep.
I collapsed into the dark.