We sat in a small room with a round table before us, seats arranged neatly around it.
Mirabel rested on my right, Sansir across from me.
Maps of the planet lined the walls, alongside ancient swords, relics of forgotten eras, manuals of strategy, and blueprints for weapons yet unmade.
I traced a finger along one of the maps without really seeing it.
The room felt less like a meeting chamber and more like a vault of accumulated intent.
The air was heavy, almost oppressive, as if the weight of history pressed down upon us.
If one listened closely, there was a faint hum, like the world itself watching, patient, uncaring, eternal.
I placed my hands flat on the table, letting my fingertips brush against the polished wood. "Fertical will not rest in their efforts," I said, voice low and deliberate.
Sansir leaned back and crossed his arms, letting his gaze drift across the maps. "So should we begin placing forces near the border?"
Mirabel shook her head, tapping her fingers lightly against her leg. "No. It would be too noticeable. Besides… what about the people?"
She was right. War could not begin in haste. Malachi would arrive soon, and subtlety mattered more than strength at this stage.
"Instead," I said, letting my palms press harder against the table, "we must quietly prepare funds, rations, and most importantly… weapons."
Anstalionah was a superpower on this planet, one of the largest weapon producers in existence.
We earned most of our wealth through arms, and we commanded the strongest army.
A population exceeding a billion sustained nearly ten million soldiers, all ready for mobilization.
Of course, knights could not simply be thrown into war.
Most were assigned to hunt the monsters that roamed our lands.
Anstalionah suffered the worst infestations, and the climate rarely showed mercy.
Snow was rare, but cold was constant.
Natural disasters erupted with a strange, almost otherworldly violence, as if the planet itself exhaled chaos.
I leaned back slightly in my chair and watched a shadow cross the ceiling, cast by the sunlight beyond the windows.
Stars collapsed into singularities without warning. Storms tore at the fabric of space, invisible claws dragging against reality.
The planet survived only because everything beyond it was far more lethal.
Cosmic radiation drifted through the sky. Colossal beasts capable of consuming galaxies passed silently overhead, indifferent to human existence.
Phenomena that could erase civilizations occurred without intent or malice.
This world endured only by clinging to a fragile equilibrium.
[Nicholas found himself complacent with his life, a lucky bastard.]
A vein twitched at my temple, and I flexed my fingers, letting the impulse pass.
Humanity, ever foolish, chose to fight itself. We truly were bastards.
"I would argue that showing the populace, and Fertical, our readiness would benefit us." Sansir said flatly.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes flicking toard the maps. "Their army has nearly thirty percent less mass than ours.
They cannot sustain an offensive."
Monsters alone would break them. I let my shoulders slump a fraction. "Regardless, some things must remain hidden. Fertical has Horia."
Mirabel caught her breath, placing a hand over her chest. "I could beat him."
Bold words from a woman who had died to him in my previous life. That failure had been mine.
"It doesn't matter," I said, voice steady.
I leaned forward again, letting my palms rest lightly on the edge of the table. "You will not be on the front lines. Focus on defense."
Sansir frowned, tapping his fingers against his armrest. "Defense? Do you think they would send an army to the capital?"
"Our capital, also named Anstalionah, is rarely threatened. That is not the concern. Madikai," I said, eyes narrowing.
"He would come. I am certain of it. Malachi will lead the army, so someone capable must remain."
I turned to Mirabel, catching her eye. "That will be you."
She opened her mouth to protest, but before a word escaped, a knock sounded at the door.
A maid stepped inside.
She had long, straight black hair and dark eyes that mirrored my own, her skin polished obsidian.
The resemblance was unmistakable. She paused, bowing slightly before gesturing behind her.
A man followed her in. His hair was bluish black, eyes deep as the ocean, his skin the color of wet sand.
Polished clothing adorned him, jewels and gold threaded into every seam. He moved with measured grace, the door closing behind him, and then bowed deeply.
"I greet the darkness that shall prevail over light, Nicholas Anstalionah," Malachi declared, his voice eager, his presence filling the room like a dam straining to break.
This was Malachi Novastia, Duke of Novastia, and one of the most powerful men in Anstalionah.
"You may rise," I said. "Sit. We will bring you up to speed."
He took the seat beside Sansir, flicking a glance across the table. "I heard enough. I have my own opinion."
The room fell quiet for a moment.
"It would be wise," Malachi continued, leaning back and folding his arms, "to invest funding into the people."
Mirabel frowned, tilting her head. "We already have the most progressive society on the planet. What more do they need?"
He laughed, the sound low and sharp. "Protection. Monsters account for nearly ninety percent of all deaths."
She grit her teeth, fists curling in her lap. "And how do you expect us to change that? We can barely fund the knights we already deploy."
Sansir shifted in his seat. Malachi's eyes narrowed slightly.
Mirabel's glare sharpened. Those two always clashed, Malachi blunt and loyal, Mirabel hating bluntness.
I leaned forward, letting my hands rest on the table's smooth edge. "We will establish a government-funded organization to hire monster hunters."
Malachi blinked, his eyebrows raising. "That has failed every time it has been tried."
"Because it was done incorrectly," I said.
I let my gaze sweep over the maps again, tracing imaginary routes with a fingertip. "It will be government-funded, but operated by the people."
Sansir tilted his head. "You would fund something that generates no profit?"
I smiled faintly, eyes cold. "How much do you think we spend on monster extermination each month?"
"One hundred gold?" Sansir guessed.
Mirabel nearly laughed. Malachi scoffed.
"Closer to one million," I said evenly, watching their reactions.
Malachi leaned forward, curiosity sharpened in his expression. Sansir coughed nervously. "That much? Then what would this cost?"
Malachi answered. "Buildings, rewards, support… roughly eighty percent less."
"And that does not include taxes collected from hunters," I added.
Mirabel's expression softened. She seemed to weigh the plan in her mind. Sansir looked increasingly lost.
"So why does it always fail?" Sansir asked.
Malachi answered without hesitation. "Weakness. Too much death."
I slammed a hand against the table, the sound echoing through the room. Silence fell. "That is why it must be regulated."
In truth, I had seen this system succeed in Falsus, the southernmost nation. Years later, in another life.
[Nicholas was evil like that, stealing ideas.]
I allowed myself a small, inward smile at the voice's comment.
"I know trusting me may be difficult," I said slowly, letting my hands rest lightly on the edge of the table. "But my ideas will work."
Malachi studied me with predatory focus, leaning forward slightly. "You seem different," he said. "What caused this change?"
I leaned back in my chair, letting the silence stretch. "I want to slaughter all those who threaten me or those I care for."
The room held its breath. Even the faint hum in the walls seemed to pause.
"I am foolish, lazy, weak, and ugly," I continued. "I intend to change that."
[Nicholas had many resolutions. He was foolish, but his ambition was endless.]
I scoffed softly. Then what was I?
[Nicholas was a fool. The Endless Fool.]
The words struck like a blade wrapped in silk. My body tensed as the name sank deep, reshaping something fundamental.
This voice could grant titles.