The figure before me was both familiar and utterly foreign. My father—at least, what had once been my father—now stood as a towering mountain of a man, over seven feet tall and impossibly broad. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and bulging purple veins throbbed visibly on his hands and forehead. He resembled a creature from the darkest depths of hell.
The air around him seemed to hum with a menacing energy. It was thick and oppressive, pressing down on my chest and making it hard to breathe. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, trickling down my temples and stinging my eyes. My hands trembled uncontrollably, betraying the fear that gnawed at my insides.
My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a painful reminder of the reality before me. This was no ordinary encounter. This was a confrontation with a monster that had once been human, twisted by dark magic into something unrecognizable.
"Remember this," Dr. Tott had told me when I was young, his voice echoing in my mind like a ghostly whisper. "The Djinn of Aerlyn were once normal. But they delved into the darkest of magics—darker even than necromancy. They made a pact, gained some of its powers, but it did horrifying things to them. It turned them more beast than man."
The transformation was undeniable. My father's eyes glowed with an unnatural light. His once-familiar features were distorted by the dark magic that had consumed him. It was a grotesque parody of the man I once knew—a living nightmare.
As he rose from his throne and walked toward me, a calmness in his demeanor belied the malevolent aura surrounding him. The closer he got, the more oppressive the air became. It was suffocating and cold. A chill ran down my spine, and my instincts screamed at me to run—to escape this abomination.
"You are not my father," I forced out, my voice shaking despite my efforts to sound confident. The words tasted bitter, like ash in my mouth. My throat was dry, and each word felt like sandpaper against my vocal cords. My hands tightened around the shaft of my halberd, the only thing grounding me in this moment of terror.
"JAMIE," he replied, his voice a twisted mockery of the one I remembered. "Is that any way to greet your old man? Here I am, sitting on the throne, waiting for my beloved daughter to greet me. But you are not the queen of this court. You have had power for long enough. How about you—"
A sudden surge of adrenaline spurred me into action. I charged at him, my halberd raised high. But he moved with a speed that defied his massive size. In an instant, he dodged to the side and shoved me to the ground, his strength overwhelming. The impact knocked the wind out of me. I gasped, struggling to regain my footing. The fall dealt me 5 damage. Pain radiated from my shoulder where I hit the ground—a sharp reminder of his inhuman power.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer: I was outmatched, utterly and completely.
"I am your daughter," I spat, forcing myself to stand despite the throbbing pain. Anger welled up inside me, a desperate attempt to mask my fear. "I am the queen of this country. You will kneel before me, or I will have your head!" My words were defiant, but inside, fear gnawed at me, cold and relentless. The bravado felt hollow—a flimsy shield against the overwhelming dread.
He towered over me, a smug expression twisting his monstrous face. His presence was suffocating, an oppressive weight pressing down on me. I knew this was my moment. With a quick flick of my wrist, I thrust the halberd’s blade towards his stomach. It slid through the chainmail he wore, dealing 30 damage. A flicker of hope sparked in my chest.
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But it was gone as quickly as it came. The wound closed before my eyes, leaving no trace. His laughter echoed through the chamber, a sickening sound that sent chills down my spine.
"It's going to take a lot more than that to kill me," he mocked, his voice dripping with condescension. "I've been waiting a long time for this moment. When I was alive, I never had the courage to kill you."
I lunged at him again, this time aiming for his face, but he dodged effortlessly. His hand shot out, striking me with a force that sent me sprawling back. 10 damage. I barely managed to duck under it, using his momentum against him. He stumbled, and I seized the opportunity, thrusting the halberd into his back repeatedly. Each thrust landed—20 damage, 25 damage, 30 damage. My heart raced, muscles screaming in protest, but I pressed on.
Yet, as I stepped back, I saw the futility of my efforts. His clothes were untouched, his skin unmarred. He stood up, as unscathed as before.
"I am invincible," he declared with a cruel smile. "I am your king."
Panic clawed at my throat. My usual tactics were useless. I felt the icy fingers of despair grip my heart. Could I even defeat him? My thoughts raced, desperate for a solution. Decapitation—that had to be it. But could I get close enough?
“Malice, what are his stats?”
[Sir Richard, False King of Vezwincourt. The most evil ruler of them all. Not since the days of Elric has a king ruled with such an iron fist. This man—if you can call him a man—has reigned with terror for over a decade. In that time, Desmond Court has gone from one of the richest countries in Ada to one of the weakest. He has squandered political alliances, banished his most powerful knights. He is not fit to rule.]
I looked at the monster that used to be my father as Malice continued.
[The False King: 1000 HP, 15 Power, 15 Insight, zero Defense, zero Magical Defense. Loot: The Crown of Vezwincourt, the Royal Ring of Reditus, 1000 gold, the Throne of Justice.]
He laughed as the scan completed. "There is nothing you can do. You won’t even be recognized as royal anymore. Come, sit on the throne. You’ll see."
[Don't listen to him, JAMIE,] a voice in my head urged, cutting through the din of panic. [It's a trap. If I were the king, I would’ve booby-trapped that chair a long time ago. Funny, that's actually similar to how I died. I had a friend who kept using my account at a gaming café. It was awful. So, I poisoned the chair he sat in. When he died, I made the stupid decision to sit back in that chair. Died too. Painful, but satisfying.]
"What's a gaming café?" The question flitted through my mind, absurd in the face of the immediate danger. But I didn't have time to ponder it. The king had edged closer, his hands reaching for my helmet. I dodged just in time, the proximity of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. This was no ordinary opponent. Desperation fueled my every move as I struck out wildly, trying different angles, feigning recklessness to catch him off guard.
Finally, an opening appeared. With a swift motion, I drove the halberd's blade into the socket of his eye, piercing deep into his brain. The attack dealt 60 damage. The scream that followed was visceral, a gut-wrenching sound that shook me to my core. But the victory was fleeting. The halberd in my hand disintegrated into dust, and he remained standing-alive.
His body convulsed, skin bubbling and stretching in a grotesque display. I watched in horror as his form shifted, growing larger a & more monstrous. He shouted something unintelligible, it almost sounded like ‘Rat beast form.’
Malice laughed, and said [What a ripoff!]
The king’s skin morphed from green to brown to black. Wings sprouted from his back, and his hands transformed into sharp talons, each as large as my own. What stood before me now was no longer a man but a terrifying beast— a giant rat with wings, its eyes glowing with malevolent fire.
The chamber filled with his laughter, a sound that reverberated through the air, shaking me to my very core. The transformation was complete. Whatever humanity had once resided in him was gone, replaced by a monstrous entity that seemed to revel in its own existence.
I stared at the creature before me, tear and determination battling within me.
The true horror had only just begun. I braced myself for the fight of my life.
The weight of the situation pressed down on me, but I refused to back down. Not now. Not ever.