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The blade fell, and amidst the brightest cheers ever,
the sky cracked,
and everything shattered.
Cheers turned into screams. The ground shook as a grotesque amalgamation of bones and scales dropped onto the execution platform, destroying it whole, and soon, the criminal Yudrein Ail's blood was joined by countless others. The nobles had flocked to the execution, wanting to salvage their pride that Yudrein had trampled upon time and time again, but that pride was nowhere to be seen in the face of overwhelming despair. They cried for someone, anyone, to save them from the terrible monster that came to reap their lives. But the cry went unanswered, and the executioners became the executed.
It turned out, whether noble or commoner, everyone bled the same red.
Fay overlooked the scene of carnage as the third and last Commander of the Arcane Legion. The monster summoned by Yudrein's death was truly worthy of the strongest awakener: wings that could cover the sun itself, a body of swollen flesh stitched from countless creatures merged into one, a hollowed skull that breathed fumes of death—perhaps this was the closest they would come to seeing the might of a dragon like in the tales of ancient times long gone.
It all went according to their plans. They were plans the Wolf's Eye tribe had been weaving for years, perfectly set up for this one moment. This one sacrifice, foolishly offered up by the Emperor himself.
The capital, the empire, maybe even the entire world was doomed for destruction.
Yudrein was right.
But Fay no longer cared, he hadn't cared much for anything since Gloe's death. With this, his role would finally be over.
"What are you doing? Stop that thing!" the Emperor ordered, scrambling behind Fay as if that would save him.
Fay held out a hand, summoning a scale in front of him that only he could see. He placed upon it a bloody piece of flesh, one that had been flayed from Yudrein's back just days before. It wouldn't be enough to summon a clone for longer than a few seconds, but a few seconds was all Fay needed. A familiar figure manifested in front of him.
He looked up at the face of the man he had betrayed, miraculously healed of all wounds and as beautiful as an angel of death. This was the Commander who had taught him everything. The first person to have ever acknowledge his meager ability. The man who had foolishly tried to save the world when no one believed the world was even in danger. He had hated this man: for killing Kishiar la Orr, for killing Gloe, for all his other failures, and most of all, for being right.
Fay knew the weight of his sins. He had figured everything out the moment he received his last orders from the merchants he had fooled himself into calling his friends.
Fay closed his eyes. He knew he wasn't worthy of facing this man, and he didn't bother with anything as useless as an apology.
"Kill me," he ordered, knowing full well that this too would not be a true atonement. His death would only serve to accelerate the imbalance of the world further.
"Are you insane?!" Katchian screeched, but it was too late.
Commander Yudrein had always been an efficient assassin.
Fay's head rolled to Katchian's feet just as the apparition of Yudrein disappeared.
Useless! Useless! Everyone is so fucking useless!
Katchian clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth, doing his best to keep his anger in check lest it attract the attention of the monsters currently swarming the capital.
Where was the Arcane Legion? The army? The Southern merchants?
They had all promised him their loyalty, and he had never believed them, but it frustrated him all the same.
Maybe, his traitorous thoughts whispered, maybe if Yudrein Ail were still alive...
This was the last thought Katchian la Orr had before he, too, died.
It turned out, dying was not so simple, especially not with the world's balance being as messy as it was.
Even beyond the paradoxical pain and numbness of death, Katchian persisted. Or at least, a shred of his consciousness hung on, even without physical form. It was mixed among hundreds of others, wandering endlessly in the dark crevices of an unknown afterlife.
Time did not seem to exist here, but it passed all the same. Little by little, Katchian felt like he was losing himself in the void, because it was so hard to exist when nothing else did.
But one day, in that emptiness, he ran into a true oddity: a pair of white gloves.
They truly stood out in the darkness, clearly different from anything else—shining with a power and vitality Katchian envied. And that was when Katchian realized, he knew who these gloves belonged to. Who this entity was.
Kishiar la Orr.
The gloves waved at him, and even without expression or voice, Katchian could tell. He was being mocked.
But being recognized, being remembered, also strengthened his own existence. For the first time in a long while, Katchian finally felt like he was still Katchian la Orr.
He tried to open his mouth to form words, but soon realized: he had no mouth. No body. He was merely a remnant, an existence even more pitiful than a ghost.
But he still existed.
Katchian clung onto that fact.
Time passed, and just as Katchian felt himself fading again, the gloves appeared before him once more, beckoning him to follow.
Reluctantly curious, he ended up following the gloves all the way to a window of light. He was amazed he hadn't ever noticed it earlier, had the gloves summoned it?
Somehow, the light wasn't blinding even in this endless darkness. Perhaps because he didn't truly have eyes, but he still perceived. He had long since given up trying to question it.
Through the window, he saw a familiar scene: the streets of the empire, decorated for the harvest festival, completely intact and unharmed. A scene from the past? It was impossible for it to be the present; the empire had been smashed beyond recognition by monsters when he died.
And amongst the crowd, he saw himself: still young and under the thumb of the Duke seated next to him. This Katchian was staring, fascinated at the sight of Yudrein Ail using his powers to completely subdue the festival's disruptors. Yudrein had made it looked effortless, not a hair out of place even after exerting that much power. It was only natural to be entranced by such a display of power. Except, after his mission was complete, it was not Katchian Yudrein looked to for approval, for his next command. Yudrein was only focused on Kishiar la Orr, clad in the Arcane Legion Commander's uniform looking more alive and well than ever before.
How could this be? This had never happened in the past.
What was he watching?
Why are you showing me this, he wanted to ask. But the gloves didn't—couldn't—answer.
So he did the only thing he could: he continued to watch.
Katchian watched Yudrein bring victory again and again to Kishiar and the Arcane Legion.
Meanwhile, he also watched his other self: alone, injured, and sentenced to trial.
It was unfair. Truly, frustratingly unfair. Yudrein Ail had obviously gotten a second chance, going into the past with a decade of memories and powers. Kishiar la Orr received a second chance given to him by Yudrein. Many others also received such a chance, even the people who had been directly responsible for Yudrein's capture had been spared—but what about him?
He had been misled by the foreigners who gained his ear, but before that hadn't he treated Yudrein well? He had given the commoner power and wealth far beyond his station. Yet it seemed none of that mattered to Yudrein: he went to Kishiar la Orr's side again and again just for his beautiful face. Disgusting.
disgusting disgusting disgusting disgusting—
Katchian heard echoes of thoughts from the other remnants around him. It was happening more and more these days, their consciousness all bleeding into one another the longer they spent trapped in the void. But Katchian knew these other thoughts didn't match his. He knew their insults were directed at himself.
disgusting disgusting disgusting disgusting—
But what did they know? They were remnants with barely any remaining consciousness left, they probably couldn't even remember their names. How dare they try and judge him, the Emperor? He could tell, these other remnants—they were formerly his subjects. But even if he was also a remnant now, he was formerly their Emperor. He refused to treat them as his equals.
disgusting disgusting disgusting disgusting—
He sensed amusement from the gloves next to him. And then, a different thought could be heard, clearer than the others:
Do you want another chance?
Before he could even state the obvious, Katchian felt a push.
Katchian opened his eyes to dizzying brightness and gasped his first breath in years. He was...alive?
"Criminal, Katchian La Orr! Heed my words!" A sharp voice declared, drawing him out of his thoughts. It was only then that Katchian noticed where he was: the public square. The same place Yudrein had died. Where he had died, previously, too.
"As Crown Prince, you have forsaken your obligations and deceived the Emperor regarding your origins! Additionally, you were implicated in the assassination of Lenore Shand Apeto a year ago, as well as the death of Mickey of Pofuan, brother to Marin of the Arcane Legion. Furthermore, upon being exposed, you sought to escape justice by collaborating with a foreign nation."
It was so ridiculous Katchian wanted to laugh. He didn't do any of those things, that was the Katchian of this timeline, not him.
"So, criminal Katchian La Orr, are you prepared to admit to all your crimes?"
Katchian was prepared to argue, but he found he couldn't make a sound. A crushing pressure hit him all at once and even without looking he knew the source.
Kishiar la Orr.
I never gave Yudrein the chance to speak in his execution, so you aren't giving me one either?
Katchian hadn't been sure if Kishiar had any memories of their original timeline, but with this he knew.
Kishiar and the gloves...they really were the same nasty person.
What kind of bullshit chance was this?
"This man represents the greatest evil of our times! Despite committing the grave crime of betraying both the Emperor's trust and the nation itself, he displays no remorse whatsoever!"
The words were nearly the same as in the past, only the subject was different. He hated it. What use were these memories of the past? They only served to mock his current situation. Katchian remembered all that he once had, more than the Katchian of this timeline could ever dream of...he had the throne, he had Yudrein, he really had it all.
It was driving him crazy.
"Considering the severity of his crimes, it's undeniable that he deserves to be executed."
When it started to sink in that he was going to die, again, Katchian truly lost his calm. He thrashed, screamed, and struggled with all his might, but he wasn't an awakener. He was barely even an adult in this body. He was subdued without much effort.
"Crazy, really crazy..."
"The Crown Prince has truly lost it..."
"Disgusting..."
Hearing the whispers reignited his desire to struggle, but he couldn't even move a finger now.
Like this, Katchian la Orr's second life came to an end.