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Condemned To Death
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In the boundless void of nothingness, a solitary orb drifted, its iridescent surface reflecting the countless bubbles that surrounded it. Within this orb, Seren’s consciousness floated, suspended in timeless observation. Each bubble that passed by him contained a reality, a lifetime he had lived, a persona he had inhabited.
Seren’s gaze shifted from bubble to bubble. In one, he was a warrior, his blade dripping with the blood of his enemies. In another, he was a lover, his heart heavy with the ache of loss. Yet another showed him as a king, burdened by the weight of a crown, nations’ fates resting upon his shoulders.
'Condemned. That's what I am. Consumed by my failures'
Seren mused, his thoughts echoing in the emptiness. Each life, each experience, had been a crucible, forging him into the being he was destined to become. The one meant to bring about the world’s end.
As he drifted, memories of countless lives flashed before him—a whirlwind of joy, sorrow, rage, and love. He had known them all, been shaped by them all. Yet the reason behind it all remained a mystery.
'I have lived so many lives. Sometimes I wonder, why me? Why was I chosen for this mission? What did 'He' see in me?' Seren pondered.
'...No, the real question is, what did I see in myself that I chose to repent this way?'
His thoughts turned to the beginning, to the first life he could barely remember. In that distant past, he had committed a sin so terrible that it shattered his soul. The nature of this sin was lost to him—God had taken that memory—but the weight of that sin had been enough to warrant him eternal damnation.
In his first life, consumed by guilt and desperate for redemption, Seren had approached God, the all-loving, and begged for a sentence that would cleanse his soul.
God, in ‘His’ infinite wisdom and mercy, had offered Seren a choice. He could have chosen a simpler path, one of quiet penance and reflection. But driven by the crushing burden of his guilt, Seren chose the path of ultimate sacrifice. He asked for a sentence, no matter how cruel, that would allow him to atone in the most profound way possible.
And so, God granted his request. Seren was given a mission to bring an end to a distant world that had gone astray, to become the harbinger of its final moments. It was a mission of unimaginable cruelty, seemingly at odds with the nature of an all-loving deity. Seren did not understand how this would grant him salvation, but he chose to believe in the Lord's wisdom and began his preparation.
To prepare for this mission, Seren had to live countless lifetimes across multiple realities. Each life was meant to be a lesson, each experience a step towards becoming the person he needed to be.
Looking back, Seren reflected on his past, speaking to himself in the void.
'When I first set out, I decided if I had any chance to complete my mission, I had to become emotionless—a killing machine capable of destruction beyond human comprehension. For lifetimes, I killed, I slaughtered, I discarded all human life. Eventually, I became numb to killing and being killed. I didn’t care about anything'
He felt no regret for the pain he had caused.
'But just as I was about to become the perfect weapon, the Lord appeared before me. 'He' commanded me to live the life of a saint. I didn’t understand then, and I still don’t. Why did 'He' stop me just before I became perfect? Still, I obeyed, as I always had. I lived a few more lives, this time cherishing the world around me. I loved, I protected, I saved.'
Seren's gaze was clouded with mixed emotions, a feeling he could not describe welling up inside him.
'Then, just as I neared the pinnacle of sainthood, the Lord reappeared. He told me, 'Live the life of a king.' I didn’t understand. Why did 'He' stop me again? I asked, but 'He' only said, 'It is not time yet.' I didn't question further and so I followed 'His' will, time and time again.'
He sighed, the sound echoing in the lifeless void.
'Through all these lives, I’ve never truly become anything. I wasn’t a demon, nor a saint, neither a king... not even a failure.'
Seren had always questioned what he was becoming. After so long, he finally felt he had an answer.
"I think... I am nothing."
As he contemplated his purpose, a radiant figure materialized in the void—an Angel, its presence bringing a soft light to the endless darkness. Seren could not see the Angel’s true form, only a blinding light, but he could sense that the Angel regarded him with a mixture of pity and admiration.
"Seren," the Angel’s voice resonated, "are you prepared for what lies ahead?"
Seren’s response was resolute. "This mission... it’s not noble. It’s not glorious. It just is. And I accept it because I must. Because I believe there is a greater purpose in this, so I will complete it."
The Angel’s light seemed to soften. "Many would break under such a burden."
A heavy silence followed, laden with the weight of Seren’s words. The Angel then asked, "Do you not resent ‘Him’ for this task? Do you not question why 'He' has sealed the memories of your sins?"
Seren’s answer was immediate. "I do not resent 'Him'. I am eternally grateful to be the vessel for 'His' greater will. But I am no God, and I know that I know nothing. So I will not question 'His' decision to seal my memories. I understand that the world I am about to descend upon has committed grave sins, much like my own. Someone must be its executioner, and that someone is me."
The Angel’s light pulsed with approval. "Your devotion is commendable."
"In this story, I won’t be a hero. I won’t be a martyr. I will simply be a man doing what needs to be done, regardless of the cost," Seren declared, his resolve unwavering.
As the conversation drew to a close, Seren felt a shift in the void around him. The time for reflection was ending; the moment to act was approaching. He had lived countless lives, each one a step toward this ultimate purpose.
The orb that contained his essence began to pulse, its surface rippling with anticipation. The bubbles of alternate realities started to fade, leaving only the vast, empty void and the glowing figure of the Angel.
"It is time," the Angel announced, its voice echoing through the nothingness.
Seren, the man of many lives, steeled himself for what was to come. As the void began to dissolve around him, he uttered his final thoughts in this realm:
"Praise the Lord."
…
"...I can no longer see it."
The ominous words echoed through the vast expanse of shimmering nothingness—a realm that stretched infinitely in every direction, both suffocating and boundless.
Twenty-two figures stood scattered across this realm, their forms cloaked in ethereal light, each radiating a unique aura of immense power. They gazed down upon the Lexarch world, a vibrant array of lands and skies with rich resources. The beauty of the world below was starkly contrasted by the shadows that loomed over their gathering.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
One of the figures began to walk away from the group, drawing the surrounding light into a vortex that pulsed with each step. His voice, like resonant thunder, cut through the stillness.
"He is coming, and there's nothing we can do to stop it any longer." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air.
"The world as we know it is about to change irrevocably. This alliance is over, and with it, the certainty we once took for granted." A flicker of fierce resolve ignited in his eyes, burning brightly against the backdrop of despair.
The others remained silent. Then, one by one, they began to dissipate, their forms dissolving into glimmers of light and shadow that melted into the void. The air crackled with the remnants of their power, leaving behind a profound emptiness.
The dark realm then slowly collapsed in on itself before vanishing entirely. Its purpose had been fulfilled.
Thus, in the year 1492 of the Lexarch world, the end of a 1,500-year era known as the 'Epoch of Silence' was marked—a period when nations, confederations, and religions refrained from all wars.
It was an age of peace.
As the last echoes of this grand epoch faded, a new era would silently begin. History would later name it:
The Era of Unwritten Tomorrows.
...
*Fifteen years later
11th September, 1507
The first rays of dawn crept through the cracked frames of glass windows, casting slivers of light across the sparse room.
Seren's eyelids fluttered open, his consciousness slowly surfacing. As awareness seeped into him, he turned his head and saw the sunlight filtering through the window. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Finally," he whispered to the empty room, "After waiting for fifteen years..."
His words trailed off as he sat up, the threadbare blanket slipping away to reveal a form that seemed both youthful and ancient. Seren's smooth, silken skin caught the morning light, giving him an ethereal glow. His long, silvery-white hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall of moonlight, a stark contrast to the crimson eyes that now opened fully.
Those eyes held depths that spoke of experiences far beyond his apparent years. Seren had arrived in this world fifteen years ago, emerging from a realm of nothingness where he had observed countless realities within bubbles, existing as an orb of consciousness.
He had lived countless lifetimes, endured innumerable atrocities, all for one mission assigned by 'Him'.
Seren rose from the cold concrete floor, resolving himself for the Realms Rite—a pivotal event for every fifteen-year-old, determining their qualification to become a Lexarch.
In this world, beings of unparalleled power and wisdom existed, known as Lexarchs. These people held power over the fundamental elements, the laws governing existence, and the concepts that shaped the reality of their world.
To become a Lexarch was to secure one’s future. Even the weakest Lexarch possessed enough wealth to sustain multiple families for generations.
The Realms Rite was held annually, and those who passed it were qualified to join the ranks of Lexarchs.
‘The existences in this world will be far more terrifying and unfathomable than anything I experienced in my previous lifetimes,’ Seren thought silently.
After donning his rugged clothes, he set off toward the mountain summit, where the mansion of the Chimera Vale Chief stood. The anticipation of the Realms Rite weighed heavily on his mind.
...
As Seren walked through the upper district's bustling market stalls, he saw the peculiar shapes and structures of the shops surrounding the streets.
Some stalls were round, with large leaves hanging overhead like protective roofs. Others were made of mud, giving them a earthy and primitive feeling. A few even resembled small forts made of bones, sending shivers down the spines of those unaccustomed to such designs.
As he walked, Seren’s attention was caught by the piercing glare of a shopkeeper who seemed to regard him with deep animosity.
Seren sighed inwardly, brushing off the hostile gaze, and continued on his path.
But the shopkeeper’s animosity was not rare. As Seren made his way through the marketplace, he felt the weight of numerous hostile gazes upon him. Some locals armed themselves with makeshift weapons—a stick here, a knife there, even a sword—wielding them as if to assert dominance.
Yet Seren remained undeterred, his long silver hair swaying in the wind as he pressed on with cold determination through the crowded streets.
Upon reaching the grand mansion at the heart of Chimera Vale, Seren was met with a crowd gathered outside its imposing gates.
Among the crowd, Seren observed the various people, most around his own age of fifteen who were also here for the Rite.
Despite the tension hanging in the air, Seren remained calm and composed, preparing himself for the challenges ahead. But as he subconsciously imagined the consequences of his actions, doubts began to bubble up in his mind.
‘The people in this world that I have observed for the past fifteen years...’
Seren's gaze softened momentarily, a rare glimmer of empathy breaking through his stoic exterior.
‘...What am I thinking? I am not the Judge.’
...
Near the stone wall of the mansion, a cluster of fifteen-year-olds gathered around two figures locked in a fierce arm-wrestling match. The tension in the air was palpable as they focused on the contest before them.
One participant stood at average height, his black hair tinged with a reddish hue at the center. His face was twisted in effort, muscles straining as he poured every ounce of strength into the match.
Opposite him sat a colossal man, built like a mountain with muscles bulging beneath his hanfu. Despite his imposing physique, his expression remained serene, a calm glint in his eye as his ponytail swayed gently in the breeze.
With a subtle shift of his weight to the left, the towering man unleashed a sudden burst of strength. In an instant, he leaned all his weight to the right, sending his opponent's arm crashing down.
Thud!
The spectators erupted in cheers and applause, their voices filled with awe at the display of power.
“DAMN IT!” the defeated man growled, frustration evident in his voice.
“What'd you expect, Lorien? Kai’s from the Valorheart family. You never stood a chance,” remarked a tall, skinny youth standing beside him, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Lorien scowled as he rose from the wooden box used for the match. “Shut up. At least I had the guts to try, Finn. Unlike someone.” He shot a glare at his companion.
“Hey, I like my arms unbroken, thank you very much,” Finn retorted with a smug smile.
Lorien was about to continue the argument when suddenly caught sight of a figure standing at the edge of the crowd.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the king of thieves himself. Come to grace us with your presence, Seren?” Lorien sneered, his words dripping with mockery as he singled out the newcomer.
The crowd’s attention shifted to Seren, who stood at the periphery of the circle. His crimson eyes, devoid of panic or anger, were filled instead with icy indifference as he met Lorien’s gaze without flinching.
“Hey, isn’t that the guy who’s been robbing people?” someone in the crowd whispered.
“Can’t believe he has the nerve to show up here,” another said with contempt.
“Eh, leave him be. The village Enforcers will catch him eventually,” a third muttered, his tone tinged with both pity and amusement.
Seren’s gaze lingered on Lorien for a moment before he turned away, dismissing the crowd’s whispers as irrelevant noise. He began to walk away, uninterested in the confrontation.
“Hey, Seren!” Lorien called after him, spreading his arms wide. “How about this? Beat Kai in arm wrestling, and I’ll give you ten gold coins.”
Seren halted, his interest piqued. He turned back, his eyes narrowing as he considered the offer.
“BUT,” Lorien added, a sly grin playing on his lips, “if you lose, you have to give back everything you stole from the stall owners and apologize in front of everyone.”
Seren’s gaze hardened as he stared at Lorien.
“Forty gold,” he replied in a deep, measured tone.
“DEAL!” Lorien exclaimed, eagerness and triumph gleaming in his eyes. He turned to Kai, who remained seated opposite him. “That’s fine with you, right?”
Kai nodded silently, his expression unchanged.
Seren approached the wooden box, then paused and looked at Kai. “Isn’t it basic courtesy to shake hands before a match?” he suggested, his unexpected politeness catching the onlookers off guard.
Kai’s lips curled into a smile as he stood, his mood lifted by his opponent’s apparent respect. “Of course,” he replied in a satisfied tone.
With a nonchalant demeanor, Seren walked toward Kai. Just as he reached out for the handshake, his foot caught on a small rock and he instantly lost his balance and stumbled forward.
In a flustered motion, Seren reached out instinctively to steady himself but accidently grabbing onto Kai’s sleeve.
Riip!
The fabric tore with a sharp rip, eliciting a gasp from the crowd as Seren tumbled to the ground, staring up in disbelief at Kai’s bare arm and the torn sleeve in his hand.
“…”
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
The crowd erupted into laughter, mocking Seren’s clumsiness with jeers. "Smooth move, Seren!"
"Careful, the ground’s out to get you too!" another taunted.
Flushed with embarrassment, Seren quickly got up and offered an apology. “I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it…”
Kai, unbothered by the accident, waved off the concern with a smile. “It’s fine. I have plenty of clothes at home. One torn sleeve isn’t a problem.”
Relieved that Kai wasn't a petty person, Seren then shook hands with him before taking their positions for the match.
Both of them clasped their hands to start the arm wrestle with tension in the air.
But before the match began, Kai wore a puzzled expression as he caught sight of Seren chewing something in his mouth as he grinding on it viciously. Thinking nothing of it, Kai dismissed it quickly, shaking off the distraction as he focused on preparing for the competition.
Lorien’s voice rang out, sharp and clear:
“READY... SET... GO!”
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Condemned To Death
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