Stranded on an island, a man was hunting a strange creature made of tiny herons, as if baby herons had fused together into one being.
"A man's gotta eat!" he muttered, springing his ambush on the prey.
The heron was startled, but soon it faced the man, turning to confront him head-on.
"A fighter, are ya?"
The man spun his spear and raised it towards the heron's head, pointing it directly at its face. The heron slowly circled around, trying to find a better angle to pounce on the wicked man, its eyes reflecting his image.
The man had black hair streaked with gray, crystal blue eyes, and sharp features that made him handsome even in his ragged state. He wore a piece of cloth that had long outlived its purpose, now hanging loosely around him.
The heron dashed toward him, its head fully opened, revealing horns in place of teeth and a tongue lined with small, spiked horns, trying to coil around the man. But before it could, the man roared, his voice echoing powerfully, "Kneel!"
The heron struggled to remain upright, its legs trembling and buckling under the command, growing weaker by the second. Just as it was about to collapse, a spear shot through the air, piercing its stomach and spilling its guts. The torn stomach revealed undigested food, and among it was a whole human head, skin peeled off, rolling out as it tumbled onto the ground.
---
The execution grounds of Rumont, Capital city of Corre Kingdom, Sunantra.
A man whose presence silenced the noise and cries of the people as he stepped onto the podium. Berald moved toward the condemned, studying their faces with sharp eyes, before standing near the guillotine. Waiting.
The horn blower pulled out a list, its surface etched with names.
Slowly, he began to call out names.
"Rroschet Boir."
A man with gray hair and loose skin was dragged forward by a soldier. The man stumbled but managed to stay on his feet, his gaze fixed downward. The soldier yanked his head up, forcing him to face the crowd. Among the unfamiliar and familiar faces, in the front row, was his only daughter, sobbing uncontrollably as she heard his name.
His own eyes welled with tears as he caught sight of her, crying like a child. He regretted his choices, wanting desperately to beg for forgiveness one last time, but no words would come from his mouth.
The soldier gripped the rusted chain holding the placard around the man's neck and dragged him toward the guillotine. Holding the back of his neck, he forced his head into the guillotine's opening and locked it from the side, ensuring there was no escape.
The cries grew louder as the soldier secured the lock. The man's final moments had arrived. Yet, he did not cry further. Instead, a voice filled with regret and pain escaped his lips, "I am sorry, Elizabella. I hope you forgive your father." His plea for forgiveness was not directed at the king but at his daughter.
Berald approached the handle, his hand resting upon it.
Just before he could pull the handle, he smiled, not at the crowd but at the king, as the words escaped his lips: "Death to the king."
He pulled the handle, but instead of the blade falling on the man, soldiers appeared, surrounding the execution ground. Just as Samuel turned to run, he found himself facing people clad in blackened armor. He was surrounded, and Commander Ser Gildson Mare could do little. He tried to raise his weapon, but the enemy forces were overwhelming, and his own soldiers surrendered.
The cries of the people shifted into joyous shouts as they realized their families would be spared from execution, and a thunderous cheer of relief and happiness rose into the air.
---
A crowd had gathered at the plaza of Rumont. The raised platform was filled with men clad in black armor, and a man knelt in their midst. His attire stood out, different from the rest. He was handsome, noble—a royal, for he had once been a king.
King Samuel knelt before an unknown man, just as another man, clad in the same black armor, raised his voice. "The king of Nesnapol has sent his men to rescue the people of Sunantra from their evil rulers. The man tasked with liberating Sunantra, Commander General Mou Zoh, will address the people of Sunantra."
The unknown man stood tall, turning to the nobles and wisemen gathered around the plaza. His voice was commanding and strong as he declared, "People of Sunantra, we from Aest, your brothers, have decided to liberate you from the tyrant kings of Sunantra. For ages, they have fought among themselves, leaving the common folk to suffer the consequences. But that ends now. The Kingdom of Nesnapol has come to unite the land and build a single kingdom where everyone can live freely and in peace."
Mou turned to Samuel, his face twisted in disgust. "But first, we must deal with the ruler of Corre, the shameless king. He wanted to kill innocent people—for what? A cruel man like him has no place in the land we aim to build."
From the crowd, a voice rang out, raw with anger and fury, "Kill him!!"
The rest joined in.
"Kill the shameless!!"
"Kill!"
"KILL!"
The crowd erupted, their chants of death aimed at Samuel. Even nobles and wisemen joined the uproar. Samuel, who had kept his head bowed, finally raised it. The rage in their eyes and the hatred in their hearts were clear. He had failed. He was no king. Soon, he would be killed. He didn't care who had betrayed him or how the soldiers of Nesnapol had entered his kingdom. He just wanted it to end. The chants were unbearable. He needed to die to silence them.
There was a smile on Mou's face as he saw the people's reaction, for what he desired was exactly what they wanted.
A voice echoed in Samuel's mind, "I knew it! He's masquerading as Berald—that's the same wicked smile he gave before signaling his soldiers! What a twisted man."