I arrived at the site.
Cold. Dark. Empty.
I wasn't surprised.
The sun was setting, staining the sky red. Heavy clouds rolled overhead. Rain was coming. I could feel it.
I didn't take shelter. Curiosity won.
I stepped inside the cave.
The remains of a fire lay near the wall—cold ash, recently disturbed.
I'm not alone.
Footprints cut into the dirt. Too deliberate to belong to an animal.
Or maybe something pretending not to be one.
The cave narrowed as I went deeper. The air felt wrong. Too still.
Was this really a cave?
Or had I stepped into a lion's den?
A sound echoed ahead. Stone scraped against stone.
I moved toward it before I could stop myself.
Stupid.
I should leave.
But if someone was hurt…
I tightened my grip on my weapon.
It's fine, I told myself. I can fight if I have to.
The thought came unbidden—
How hard can it be?
I saw him.
A monster.
A man who knew no fear. A legend. A myth standing where it shouldn't exist.
An elf? No. The ears weren't long. Not pointed.
Human?I didn't think so.
Something was wrong. The proportions. The way he stood. Too still. Too tense.
Angry.
No—not angry.
Scared?
I dismissed it immediately. That wasn't fear.
It was rage. Pure. Uncontained.
My instincts screamed at me to leave.
Now.
I took a step back.
Then stopped.
What if he needed help?
The thought slipped in before logic could crush it. Annoying. Dangerous.
I opened my mouth before I could reconsider.
"Hey—"
The word barely left me before his voice answered.
It echoed through the cave.
"Human, of course."
The voice was too calm.
Annoyed? No.
It didn't fit any human emotion I knew.
What is he?
Who is he?
A ghost?
No.
I didn't believe in ghosts.
And even if I did—why would that be my first conclusion?
"What's your name?"
No.
"First—what are you?"
My voice shook. I noticed it immediately.
So this is fear.
I wouldn't know it well.
I'd lived in peace my entire life. Harmony, order—things handed down by that man.
The thought burned hotter than the cold air in the cave.
Where is he?
"To not know the name of your own savior—"
His voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"—your king, who bought the peace and harmony you live in with the lives of many…"
A pause.
"Shame."
The word struck like a meteor.
My thoughts scattered on impact.
Savior? King?
What is he talking about—
No.
That wasn't possible.
I refused it.
I clung to the question like it could anchor me.
"Who are you?"
The words felt wrong the moment they left my mouth.
No—
Wrong question.
"What are you?"
I shouted it.
Too loud.
Pain ripped through my throat. My ears rang, sharp and hollow, as if the cave itself recoiled.
I didn't care.
I needed an answer.
Nothing.
Silence cut through the cave, heavier than any answer.
And then… acceptance.
I had finally seen him.
The man who made my life easy. The man who made the lives of my friends, my family—everyone—easy.
Peace. Harmony. Safety.
All bought by his hand.
And that was the problem.
My thoughts tangled as I tried to grasp them, slipping through my fingers like ash. Not because I was weak—
—but because I had never been allowed to struggle.
His kindness had dulled me.
Sheltered me. Smoothed every edge before it could cut.
I hadn't grown strong.
I'd grown comfortable.
That wasn't protection.
That was stagnation.
He hadn't saved us. He'd paused us.
I swallowed.
If this world was to move forward…then this version of it had to end.
He had to die.
Not out of hatred. Not out of revenge.
But because this game—this simulation—had already been solved once.
And it led here.
So I would start over.
I would strip it down to nothing. Learn everything again. Challenge myself again. Suffer again.
I would replay it—
—and this time, I would change the outcome.
I raised my blade.
"It's nothing personal," I said. And I meant it.
"But we can't live in the peace you created."
The words came easier now. Colder.
"To live is to learn. And I've learned this—"I tightened my grip."—you made us soft."
No anger. No hatred.
"Sheltered lives. Painless days. A world without resistance."
I met his gaze.
"That isn't life. That's preservation."
I exhaled.
"So I'll end this cycle." "Not for myself. Not for power."
"But for the next generations."
The blade steadied.
"I'll give them a world that can fight back."
"Alas," he said softly, "I have found my doom in the very world I created to prevent it."
He looked at me then. Not as a king.
"As a man."
"Tell me," he continued, "what is your name?"
I hesitated.
A second. Maybe a minute. Time had lost its meaning.
"Arim," I said at last.
Relief washed over his face.
He smiled.
Just barely.
"My second half," he murmured, a quiet laugh escaping him. "How ironic… to be killed by the bearer of my own name."
There was no bitterness in his voice. Only satisfaction.
"Seems it's a trait we share," he said, exhaling softly.
He straightened, as much as a man like him ever did.
"Take over," he said. "Make the country stronger than it has ever been."
His gaze sharpened.
"Teach them hardship. Teach them to crawl through the mud."
He paused.
When he spoke again, his voice was lower—heavy.
"Be the king I was never able to be for my people."
At that moment, a beam of light tore through the cave.
No warning. No sound.
He was gone before I could react.
The body collapsed—clean, final.
I turned.
Too late.
A laugh echoed from the darkness above. Light. Amused.
Not human.
An elf.
That hadn't been a beam.
An arrow.
Energy-infused. Condensed. Precise.
Definitely an elf.
My grip tightened instinctively.
Then the voice came again, playful, mocking.
"Hey, king," he said.
"Wanna play?"
The arrow had never been an arrow.
A beam of raw energy tore through the cave, embedding itself into the wall behind him with a hiss of heat and light.
I spun, blade ready, expecting a figure with a bow.
No.
The elf stood there, hands empty, smiling. Not a weapon in sight. Just… energy humming between his fingers, like fire captured in glass.
"Relax," he said, tilting his head. "I'm not here to kill you. Yet."
I narrowed my eyes. "Then what? Why shoot him?"
He let the energy dissipate into sparks, floating lazily to the cave floor. "A little dramatic flair. Helps you appreciate the stakes."
"The stakes?"
"Exactly." He circled me slowly, careful but confident. "You think you're the only one playing this game?"
I tightened my grip. "Then why are you helping me?"
He crouched slightly, grin widening. "I'm not. I just want to see how far you can go. But… maybe we'll have fun along the way."
I hesitated. Fun. Curiosity. Challenge. Something in me clicked.
"Fine," I said slowly. "You stay… for now."
He laughed, low and chaotic. "For now?"
"Yes. One wrong move…"
"Don't worry," he said, fingers flicking lightly, and a tiny burst of energy danced across the cave walls. "I've got my own agenda. Just… don't bore me."