I never hated anyone the way I hated Kael Varellion.
Not because of what he was destined to become—the Mad Duke, the tyrant, the end-boss of an empire gasping its last breath. No. I hated him because I could see now what the world never would: he was already broken.
And he was sharpening that brokenness like a blade.
We sat in the war chamber together, just the two of us. A fire roared in the corner hearth. Maps were spread across the obsidian table—territories lined in crimson ink, cities marked for "reconstruction," which in Kael's language meant razed to the ground.
He poured wine into a goblet and slid it across the table toward me. I didn't touch it.
"You're quieter today," he said, eyeing me from beneath his lashes. "More thoughtful."
"I have a lot on my mind."
"A dangerous thing, for a Varellion." He smirked. "Our kind don't think. We act. Or didn't Father teach you that?"
He said "our kind" like it was a badge. Like blood excused everything.
The old Lucien would've nodded. Would've tried to earn his brother's approval, just to survive the week.
But I wasn't him.
And I didn't come here to survive.
The System shimmered behind my vision.
[Timeline Anchor Approaching: Minor Divergence Opportunity Detected]
Scene: Noble child to be executed for defiance.
Action: Intervene = +250 Chaos Points
Alternate Result: Timeline Shift → Villain Reputation Damaged → Thread Split
I knew this moment.
This was the first real atrocity that marked Kael's descent. A ten-year-old noble heir from House Darlmoor was caught trying to escape conscription. The punishment? Public execution by Kael's hand.
The novel described it coldly: "The boy's screams did not stop until the third swing of the blade."
I stood. "I want to attend today's sentencing."
Kael blinked. "You never cared for politics."
I met his gaze. "Maybe I care now."
The execution square reeked of fear.
Hundreds of nobles gathered behind velvet ropes and enchanted barriers, their expressions ranging from grim to gleeful. In the center stood the boy—shaking, barefoot, his royal blue tunic stained with dirt.
Kael climbed the stone platform without hesitation, blade drawn. The ceremonial sword was massive, inscribed with runes that shimmered under sunlight. He turned to the crowd and raised it.
Then I stepped forward.
"Don't."
Silence fell.
Kael looked over his shoulder. "This is an execution, not a debate."
I didn't flinch. "He's ten."
"And?" He raised a brow.
"You're not sending a message. You're starting a war. That child's death will spark rebellion, not fear."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"No," I said. "It's a funeral march for our house."
[Chaos Thread System Triggered]
Divergence Confirmed. Timeline Fragment Shifting…
+250 Chaos Points
New Ability Unlocked: [Veil of False Mercy]
"Your mercy blinds others. They won't see the knife until it's too late."
Kael hesitated. Then—shockingly—lowered the blade. The boy collapsed in tears, a guard rushing to drag him away.
The crowd buzzed, confused. Some applauded. Others whispered accusations.
I turned and walked off the platform before Kael could ask why.
Because the truth was simple:
I didn't save the boy out of kindness.
I saved him because it made me look weak.
And looking weak… was part of the plan.
Later, in the gardens, Kael cornered me. "You embarrassed me."
"I saved you from your own recklessness."
His eyes darkened. "You think I'm reckless?"
"No," I said flatly. "I think you're a storm waiting to happen. And I'd rather not be swept up in the wreckage."
We stood inches apart. I could feel the heat of his anger radiating like a forge. He was bigger than me, stronger. But I wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
Because I didn't need to beat Kael with muscle or magic.
I just had to outthink him.
"You're not my enemy, Lucien," he said finally. "But don't make the mistake of believing we're allies either."
I gave him a cold smile. "We never were."
That night, I stood alone on the west tower balcony, gazing over the estate's twisted gardens.
The System hummed in the back of my mind. Another notification blinked:
[Divergence Depth: 2%]
Next Anchor Approaches: The First Death That Wasn't Yours…
I clenched my fists. The timeline was bending now. People were watching me who shouldn't even know I existed. Kael no longer trusted me. And soon… neither would the hero.
Good.
Because trust is the first mistake people make before they fall.