Novels2Search
VALRAVN: Crimson Wings [A Dark Fantasy LitRPG]
Chapter 37.0 - To become a King

Chapter 37.0 - To become a King

“It’s a farce,” I couldn’t help but say.

“Then show me.”

I did the same as I always did and imagined black haze exude out of my body, but it felt like I was flexing a non-existent muscle. I couldn’t produce anything.

Time stopped and re-winded.

“Julian, come up.” Not even as a chick was I so powerless. “Everyone, leave,” ordered the King.

To be judged, to be controlled by so many. As if arms were cut from my torso, my legs chopped at the knees, and my tongue ripped out. My words—controlled, my mind—cont orted.

“…Is this a trick or joke?”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“It’s not.”

Time re-winded again.

“Julian, come up.” If I cannot fight, if I cannot take the punches, then let someone else have it. “Everyone, leave.”

The grin on the concubine’s face.

“Julian…Is this a trick or joke?”

“I was cursed by the consorts.”

“Damn it!” The king slammed his fist on his throne. “Those whores, those sluts. I give them everything and this is what they do!” Roots broke through the marble floor. Shaped like spears, they glinted the blood of virgins of sin.

“When was this? When did you hear this?”

“Just recently. I overheard them in the kitchen.”

“The chefs as well. I knew those chefs were suspicious, no wonder they insisted I eat weird herbs and fruits instead of meat.” The King got up and drew his sword. “Stay here.”

#

“You killed mom! You killed your mom too! It’s all your fault!” screamed Albert. “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“It’s not my fault,” I muttered.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

He was no more than eight. His hair cut mid-length curved around his eyes and brought attention to his tears.

“Whose fault is it then? Tell me.” He cried. “What did they do?”

It was my fault. I looked down in shame. “Sorry.” I wouldn’t have done it had I known. My mother died too.

A gust of wind spread through the corridor and heat accumulated until a faint flicker of light formed around his fist. “That’s not enough!”

The gust threw me against the castle wall. The candles above fell and lit my clothes on fire.

It burnt. I screamed. Albert did nothing but watch on.

A rush of water splashed down on me.

“Get a healer quick!” yelled someone. I couldn’t place their voice. My body hurt too much, I rolled on the ground, even though the flames were dead; everything burnt.

I dragged myself into the throne room after having been treated by Diane. All my strength had been sapped and parts of my body still hurt.

When I got there, Albert kneeled in front of the King and Sir Richard stood behind the King.

“Explain.”

No one spoke.

“I said, explain!” ordered the King.

I gave in to the pressure. “I fell—”

“Did I ask you?” The king yelled at me, then turned his attention to Albert.

“I…I…It was an accid—”

“Shut up if you want to spout shit. Explain.”

“It’s…It’s all his fault!” He exploded. “Because he’s too weak Mom died, it’s all—”

A storm raged around Albert, but roots exploded out the ground, wrapped around his head, and slammed it down into the marble tiles. “You dare use magic in my presence, in my throne room without my permission…” The winds petered out. “Don’t give me more reasons to die. You have your uses now, but your value has its limits.”

“Why…why can’t I be king?” asked Albert through gritted teeth. Tears ran down his cheeks. “Why is that useless kid worth so much more than me? It only obviou—”

The roots let him go. Albert raised his head; a dash of mad joy tinged his eyes as he was allowed to look upon the King and his throne during an audience. “Thank—” he began, before the roots bound his head once more and smashed him into the marble floor.

“Sir Richard, lead him out.”

I stared at the red stain left on the cracked marble.

“Look at the things you make me do,” said the King. He tapped his throne. “Do you want to become his slave? Do you want to see him sit on this throne while you rot in a cell, awaiting his call? For you to stand under him, your only use being your blood? For you to be a stand for the sceptre and sword of Rosalia while he wields the power. Is that what you want to be? Because that’s how things are shaping out to be.”

#

“Father!” yelled Albert. “It’s been a year, yet he has yet to gain the ability to use magic. You should at least legitimize me. The nobles are growing restless.”

The King frowned but he didn’t reproach Albert. And… the King didn’t even spare me a glance.

“No.” The King leaned back. His deep purple shirt scraped against the throne’s wood grains.

Albert’s eyes flickered and he ground his teeth. “You will have to do it eventually—”

“No, I’ll become King.” I interrupted.

“If you don’t do it now, the crown will…” Albert continued speaking, not sparring me a glance. The King continued to listen to Albert’s words, not sparring me a glance.

“No!” I screamed. “I’ll become King.” But yet again they didn’t listen to me. Their words turned to haze, and my sight grew dark. “STOP!” I needed to have my voice heard.

“FATHER! I’LL BECOME KING!” The world became blinding white and the faint outline of a man–no, a woman... or perhaps it was a child–appeared.