Shattered Oath Silent Kings

Theoarize was curled up in her usual spot on a cushion near the fire, her small body rising and falling with soft snores. Suddenly, she felt herself yanked harshly, the warmth of her blanket gone in an instant. She landed on the floor with a thud. 

"Hey! What the—" Theoarize snapped, blinking groggily and looking around. 

Ian was pacing back and forth, his hands running through his disheveled hair. His usually calm expression was nowhere to be seen, replaced with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

"Ian, what's your problem?" Theoarize grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her head with a paw. 

Ian didn't seem to hear her. He was muttering to himself, his steps frantic. 

"Ian!" Theoarize shouted. 

When he finally stopped and turned to her, Theoarize froze. His blue eyes glowed faintly, their sharp intensity piercing through the dim light of the hut. Her stomach churned, a deep, primal instinct forcing her to lower her gaze. 

"Is that... monarch aura?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling despite herself. 

Ian scoffed, crossing his arms. "I thought so, but I wasn't sure. A few herds of low demonic beasts ran away the moment I approached. It doesn't make sense." He sat down heavily, still looking frustrated. "Theoarize, what's going on?" 

Theoarize hesitated, her tail flicking nervously. "I think... the explanation should come from you." 

"Me? Again?" Ian exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "Why is it always me? Monarch aura is supposed to belong to a member of the Imperial Family! Those destined to become an emperor, right? I'm not even royal blood anymore!" 

Theoarize huffed, her ears flattening at his outburst. "No, Ian, that's where you're wrong."

"What do you mean?" he snapped, his voice rising in frustration. 

Theoarize sighed, tapping her paw on the floor as if choosing her words carefully. "That body is still your body. Just because the world erased your existence doesn't mean you stopped existing entirely. The blood in your veins, your soul imprint... they still belong to the First Prince." 

Ian stared at her, his expression somewhere between disbelief and fury. "Didn't you tell me Allen was the only prince?" 

"I don't know!" Theoarize snapped back, her fur puffing up in irritation. "Don't shout at me! I'm just as confused as you are! I didn't expect you to regress into your original body either! I thought you'd possess someone else, like how these things usually go!" 

Both of them fell into silence, their previous anger replaced by a shared sense of bewilderment. Ian slumped into a chair, his head in his hands, while Theoarize climbed onto the table, pulling a small, glowing book closer with her paw. 

She flipped through the pages carefully, muttering to herself. "There has to be something about this. Some kind of clue..." 

Ian watched her with a mixture of desperation and unease. "So? What does it say?" 

Theoarize stopped flipping and sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Nothing, Ian. It's just not in here." She looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry." 

Ian leaned back, staring up at the wooden ceiling. His hands trembled slightly as he tried to steady his breathing. "So, what? Am I just supposed to live with this?" 

Theoarize didn't respond, his mind racing. If this body still carried the blood of the Imperial Family, what did that mean for him? And why was the world so determined to pull him back into a life he wanted to leave behind? How about Allen?

Afterall, only one member of the imperial family will be born with a Monarch aura in each generation of Emperors. If he was destined to become a ruler in this era, what about Allen?

Ian finally calmed down and leaned back on the chair. He sighed tiredly and rubbed his temple. Across from him, Theoarize didn't lift her head, her small ears drooping as if weighed down by something unsaid. 

"I've been thinking of asking," Ian began quietly, his voice cutting through the silence.

"Theoarize, earlier, the system said something about the '275th round.' What does that mean?" 

Theoarize hesitated, her tail curling tightly around her body. "I'm sorry, Ian," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't tell you." 

"I see," Ian replied, his tone flat and resigned. "So that's how it is. Nothing changes, then." He stood up and stretched slightly as if trying to shake off the weight of his thoughts. "I'll just stay here. After all, what's the point of leaving?" 

"Ian, that's not—" Theoarize started, but the words caught in her throat. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. 

Ian walked outside, the cool morning air brushing against his face. He sighed again, a heavy, tired sound, and made his way to the small farm he'd started. The neatly tilled rows of earth and sprouting greenery filled with flowers, edible fruits, and herbs. He walked past the crops and sat by the waterfall, letting the rushing water wash over his legs. 

As he stared at his reflection in the clear pool, memories flooded his mind. He could still see the day he awakened the monarch's aura so vividly it felt like yesterday. His father's cold, disappointed eyes. His mother's horrified expression. The shocked faces of everyone who had already abandoned him, dismissing him as irrelevant after Allen's talent began to shine. 

But among all those reactions, there had been Allen. His younger brother had smiled so brightly, so sincerely, as though nothing was wrong. "Congratulations, Ian!" Allen had said, his voice was full of unshakable warmth. 

Ian's gaze shifted to the family of deer cautiously approaching the water's edge. The barrier of holy water he'd created allowed normal animals to pass, and the small group drank peacefully before walking away. 

Ian let out a bitter chuckle. "How pathetic," he muttered to himself. "I'm jealous of deer now." 

He looked back up at the bright sky, a stark contrast to the darkness that clung to his memories. How many people had he killed in his previous life? How many demon kings had he hunted down and destroyed? How much darkness had he unleashed upon the world in his blind rage and despair? 

His thoughts turned to the continent of Neroxia, divided into five distinct lands. Decra is home to the Archea Empire and the Winterbell family. Falfora, ruled by beastmen and warriors, is a land of strength and survival. Thera, the domain of magicians. And Glamaria, the heart of civilization and innovation. 

No matter where the people of those lands had fought back, they had all fallen to him in the end. He had thought the demon kings were his salvation at one point, a way to give meaning to his pain, but in his madness, he had burned everything to ashes.

Falfora's greatest knight, a warrior of unparalleled skill, couldn't even stand against the devastating power of magic. Ian had led the demonic army as its first general, merciless and unstoppable, slaughtering everyone in his path. He had seen the light in people's eyes fade, but instead of regret, he had felt satisfaction back then—a twisted sense of justice in their suffering.

Thera, the land of brilliant mages and arcane wisdom, had fared no better. Even their most gifted spellcasters couldn't withstand the dark magic of the demonic forces under his command. The world had been on the brink of despair, teetering over the edge.

And then came the day he attacked the Decra continent. That day had been different. Ian had thought it would be the final chapter. He believed that if he could crush Decra, he could end it all—make everyone feel the pain they deserved and bring the world to its knees.

But Allen died that day.

Ian closed his eyes, the memory flashing vividly before him. Allen, his little brother, had stood in his path, refusing to run, refusing to back down. "Ian, please stop this!" Allen had pleaded.

Ian had hesitated, just for a moment. But it had been enough.

Allen had paid the price for Ian's hesitation. The boy had died protecting the very people who had abandoned them.

Ian had tried to fight the demon king after that. He had charged at the very being who had given him power, consumed by rage and grief. But he hadn't even made it close. The demon king had defeated him effortlessly, knocking him down with a mocking laugh.

"You thought you could rise against me? How pathetic," the demon king had sneered, towering over Ian's broken form. "Look around you, Ian. The world doesn't need me to destroy it—it's doing that all on its own. You were just a tool, a broken, pitiful tool. Watch how the world burns itself to ashes. Feel the despair, and maybe then you'll understand your place."

Ian had been left alive out of pity, wandering through the ruins of his destruction. Everywhere he went, he saw the devastation he had caused: the empty villages, the fields scorched black, the bodies left unburied. The guilt had been crushing, but Ian had kept moving, not knowing what else to do.

Days later, as he lay in the ashes of what had once been a thriving town, a system window appeared before him.

[Become Theoarize's Apostle.]

[Mission: Eliminate the 13 Demon Kings.]

At first, Ian had laughed bitterly. It was ridiculous. He was the one who had brought the demon kings into power. Now the world expected him to clean up his mess? But something in him stirred—a faint, fragile ember of hope.

He had accepted. And one by one, he had hunted the demon kings down. It had taken years, and each battle had left him more broken than the last. But he had done it.

Now, lying back on the soft grass, Ian stared up at the sky, his thoughts heavy with the weight of his sins. The silence of the forest was almost too much. It made his guilt feel clearer.

A sudden, deafening roar snapped him out of his thoughts. Ian turned to see a massive demonic beast, an A-rank monster, clawing furiously at the edge of the barrier. Its matted fur and glowing red eyes were a horrifying sight, its sharp claws raking against the shimmering barrier as it snarled and roared. 

Ian stood, gripping his dagger tightly. His heart pounded, but his mind was focused. He stepped out of the barrier. 

The beast lunged at him, its jaws snapping inches from his face. Ian dodged to the side, slashing at its flank. The dagger left a shallow wound, black blood spraying onto the forest floor. The beast roared in pain and turned, its massive claws swiping at Ian. 

He ducked, rolling to avoid the attack, but the force of the swipe sent dirt and debris flying. Ian's movements were quick. He struck again, this time aiming for the creature's hind leg. The beast howled as the tendon was severed, its movements becoming slower and more erratic. 

Just as it lunged again, Ian leaped onto its back, plunging the dagger into the base of its neck. The beast thrashed violently, trying to throw him off, but Ian held on, driving the blade deeper. With a final roar, the beast collapsed, its body shuddering before going still. 

Ian stood over the corpse, breathing heavily. The miasma around the beast began to dissipate as its corrupted energy faded. 

He glanced toward the dense, dark forest beyond the barrier. The thick miasma that clung to the trees seemed alive, writhing and pulsing with evil. He clenched his fists. "I know what I have to do now," he muttered. 

Picking up the purified bear meat from the fallen beast, Ian walked back to the hut. Inside, Theoarize was sprawled out on her cushion, her nose twitching as she caught the scent of food. She looked up groggily, only to stiffen when she saw the determined look in Ian's eyes. 

Ian placed the meat down and stared directly at her. "Teach me how to become a god," he said firmly.