Adam sat alone in his dimly lit room, the faint glow of a single candle casting long shadows on the cracked walls. He leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, his thoughts spiraling as he considered his next move. The title of acting mayor carried weight, but Adam knew better than to feel secure. Power in this fractured kingdom was fleeting, and the enemies he’d made—both known and unknown—were surely watching.
He thought about the general. General Kassim was no fool, a man who valued control above all else. Adam had carefully covered his tracks, ensuring there was no direct evidence linking him to the gangsters’ intimidation or the manipulation of the votes. The police, on his side for now, Loren wouldn’t betray him—not while he saw him as a rising power in this chaotic city. The gangsters, for their part, wouldn’t dare act out of line, not after the talk they had. Still, Adam couldn’t shake the certainty that Kassim would investigate the election results. The general was too shrewd to accept them without question.
“Let him dig,” Adam muttered under his breath. “He’ll find nothing worth acting on.” Kassim might be wary of him, but the man had his own priorities. As long as Adam didn’t directly threaten his position, he knew Kassim wouldn’t make a move—at least, not yet.
Adam’s highest priority remained clear: completing the magic potion. The mana core was still his ticket to power, to becoming the first human capable of wielding magic. His goal—to venture into elven territory and test his fate—felt tantalizingly close yet infuriatingly out of reach. The potion required thousands of souls to complete, “ Ohhh, what a pain in the ass…”
The methods to acquire those souls were another matter entirely. Adam’s mind turned dark, recalling history from his past life. He thought of the atrocities of the Second World War—gas chambers, mass extermination, industrialized killing. Could such methods work here? The infrastructure could be built easily enough, but the morality of those around him was a far greater obstacle. Convincing people to actively participate in such atrocities would be risky. They’d need more than orders; they’d need a reason to kill.
“ They just had a revolution, following cruel orders like that will turn people quickly against me..ahh”
“Patriotism,” he mused, his fingers drumming against the table. “Exactly! They just had a revolution, maybe something like killing ehhh.. Women ?! women could work, a witch hunt, oh yes that could work, I can organize that..”
But the idea felt clumsy. Instigating such acts would take too much time, and time was a luxury he didn’t have. He considered the church, the guise of religion, the ancient tool of manipulation. “ Women and the disabled as enemies of the new regime! We can maybe improve the bloodline.. Uhh or Oh god does not create the ugly, they must be sinful.. I can maybe annonce building a hospital and convince the people working at the hospital of such ideas, that could be .. effective.. Hopefully ? “
But he knew even that carried risks. The people are volatile. Adam didn’t fear them, but he understood the danger of pushing too hard too soon.
“For now, I bide my time,” he thought, staring into the flickering flame. His plan to force the votes had been a gamble, but the short timeframe for the election had worked to his advantage. Suspicion was minimal, and even if rumors began to circulate, his role as acting mayor was temporary. In a year or so, the kingdom would hold proper elections, by which time Adam intended to be long gone. If everything went according to plan, he would already be ascending the ranks of magic wielders by then.
His musings were interrupted by the faint sound of a bell in the distance, echoing through the slums. Tomorrow, a meeting was to be held in the royal palace, bringing together all the newly elected leaders to discuss their visions for the future. Adam smirked at the irony—visions of the future. They were all scrambling to rebuild a broken kingdom, but Adam’s sights were set far beyond this crumbling land.
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The grand hall of the royal palace was a stark contrast to the chaotic streets of the capital. Its opulent chandeliers, intricate carvings, and richly adorned walls spoke of a forgotten glory now overshadowed by the turmoil of revolution. This time, however, as Badr Riagi strode into the hall, the guards at the doors bowed slightly—a silent acknowledgment of his newfound status. The transformation was palpable; he was no longer an ordinary man from the slums but an acting leader of the capital, a position that commanded respect.
Inside, the room was filled with figures of power—General Kassim and the acting mayors of the kingdom’s four major cities. They stood in clusters, their polished suits and dignified demeanor marking them as a different breed from the rough-and-tumble citizens of the revolution. As Badr entered, conversations faltered, and all eyes turned to him.
The difference was immediate. The other leaders, all seasoned and gray around the edges, looked startled to see someone so young standing among them. Badr, in his early twenties, seemed out of place in their circle of experience and authority. Yet there was something in his confident stride and the calmness in his eyes that made them hesitate to dismiss him outright.
“Oh, so young!” one of the acting leaders remarked, his voice tinged with surprise.
“Indeed,” another agreed, adjusting his tie. “I didn’t expect the acting leader of the capital to be such a young gentleman.”
“Ah, the future generation is already rising up,” the third added with a smile, though his tone carried a faint trace of condescension.
General Kassim, standing at the center of the room, gestured toward Badr with a grin that seemed both calculated and sincere. “Badr is one hell of an interesting fellow,” he said, his voice carrying an air of authority. “We should definitely consider his words carefully—he’s very loved by most of the people in the capital.”
The others nodded in agreement. One of them, a tall man with silver-rimmed glasses, stepped forward and extended his hand. “Of course, his words carry weight,” he said warmly.
Badr met the handshake with a firm grip, his expression calm and unreadable. “Thank you,” he said, his voice steady and measured. “If I may introduce myself, I’m Badr Riagi, and I will be acting as the head of the capital city for the foreseeable future. It’s an honor to stand among you.”
The man nodded approvingly. “A pleasure to meet you, Badr. I’m Dr. Taha Lawin,” he said, his voice refined. “I’ll be acting as the leader of the eastern city of Itharal.”
A woman with sharp features and a confident posture stepped forward next. Her presence commanded respect, and her tone was authoritative yet friendly. “I’m Selina Faraj,” she said, shaking Badr’s hand. “I’ll be leading the southern city of Vashir. Congratulations on your win in the capital—it’s no small feat.”
At that moment, Adam forced a smile but his thoughts were like a storm raging on “ They elected a woman?! I thought they were behind! And there it goes my plan, up in the smokes.. Witch hunts would've been so good, like in this world they have magic and shit, I could’ve convinced people of it..FUCK.”
The final figure was a heavyset man with a booming voice and a hearty laugh. “Name’s Khalid Shamir,” he said, clapping Badr on the shoulder. “I’ve got the western city of Dunath. You’ve made quite the impression, young man. Winning the capital at your age? That’s something.”
Badr inclined his head politely. “Thank you. It’s a privilege to work alongside all of you during such a critical time for our nation.”
The room seemed to relax as pleasantries were exchanged. Yet beneath the surface, Badr could feel the undercurrent of doubt and curiosity directed at him. His youth and rapid ascent were both his greatest asset and his most glaring vulnerability. But Badr wasn’t fazed, he knew how to wield perception as a weapon.
General Kassim gestured for everyone to take their seats at the grand table in the center of the hall. “Now that we’re all here, I have important news to share,” he said, his tone businesslike.