The King of Kings

In his life as a Madoni, Helial had been trained with Alexander to manage battles and every kind of difficulty he would face. At that moment, he did not intend to miss the opportunity he had glimpsed, despite the apparently extreme situation.

If the King had not yet ordered to retreat, there had to be a reason, right?

Helial slowly placed his hand on the hilt of Curse of the Demon, tied to his back, and stroked the mane of his horse, which supported the weight of the rider and his weapon. The Great sword, in fact, was normally very heavy, but Helial could regulate its weight by thought, so that it was not too bulky to carry on horseback.

Helial had owned Curse of the Demon since he had memory. It had always been at his side. Neither he nor any of the Madonis could understand its origins.

Helial only knew that Curs of the Demon was a terribly powerful weapon. It could act as a Skill catalyst and it allowed him to show off terrifying abilities in battle.

He had discovered that Curse of the Demon seemed to possess an internal series of Meridians, similar to those of a living creature. He had shared his doubts with Alessandro, but it seemed that there was no other weapon like that.

Stranger still, that layer of Meridians seemed to be called ... Rice with Butter?

Helial analysed the situation on the battlefield as best he could. The army's central body was being crushed by the enemy offensive, and it was folded in two.

The right wing was about to collapse.

The left was the only one in decent conditions. If the reinforcements did not arrive in time, however, this stalemate would have lasted only a short time.

"We will attack from the left wing!" Yelled Helial. "We will crush them in a pincer manoeuvre while the others will push them towards us. We will have to be quick and not hesitate."

The soldiers were stunned hearing their general's words

They were the reserve and should have rushed to the aid of those in difficulty. Therefore, following this logic, they should go and help the right wing.

But their commander had just said the exact opposite.

However, shortly before, he had treated harshly and unpleasantly those who dared to complain, so the soldiers preferred not to object. Swallowing, they followed Helial's shadow, who had already sprung forward on horseback.

As much as they thought that Helial's strategy was wrong, at the end of the battle all his subordinates had to change their mind: thanks to that decision, the Madonis won the battle.

The left wing had lengthened thanks to Helial's support and had crushed the enemies in the centre from several sides.

The pincer technique had routed the enemy left wing, so the reserve and the Madonis' left wing could then attack the centre. Encircled, the enemies had fallen back, and those who were attacking the right wing had rushed to support their companions. But the Madonis had chased all their enemies, who until then had inflicted terrible losses on them. By slaughtering every single one they could see, the right wing had time to recover and the left overturned the fate of the clash.

Helial, Crater and Efeistio had killed all the enemy Generals, before helping Alexander, who was now very close to death. They had killed Azemilco and his son, one of the enemy Generals, defeating the entire army and not even giving it the opportunity to respond to their powerful attack.

Alexander, on the verge of death, felt unprecedented anger, not for the pain he had suffered, but for the damage that had been caused to his men. His revenge hit all of Gezia's population.

The lands surrounding the city were flooded with extracts of poisonous plants, containing Mana of Death, which would have prevented any form of life from inhabiting the area. That territory, once so luxuriant, would now host nothing but ghosts.

Mana of Death was one of many forms of energy in the universe. However, it was very dangerous and had corrosive properties. It was a degradation of Mana of Destruction, a degeneration. It was mainly used by warriors who cultivated Ghost Skills.

Ghosts were warriors' souls, collected and imprisoned through Skills.

These kind of warriors were frowned upon, also because of the uncanny Aura that surrounded them, due to the presence of creatures such as ghosts, Ghouls and Undead alongside them.

Some Undead, as in the case of Orma's enemies, could even escape the control of those who had created them and create colonies. They still had the ability to acquire Skills and level up, just as when they were alive. Unfortunately, however, they acquired an innate hostility towards the living.

Secondly, every single citizen was made a slave and sent to work in Madonia's mines; all who opposed the King's order would be killed instantly, and the same would happen to any rebel.

Not even women and children were spared. Some of them became slaves, others were sent to brothels, others to mines. The elders, if too old to work, were killed without mercy.

In the face of such fury, not even Helial and Crater could not make the King come to his senses.

Efeistio, for his part, supported Alexander's every choice, however insane and bloody it was.

Alexander was now in the Late Stage of the Sixth Phase, while Helial and the other generals were in the Initial Stage. Since he was the strongest among them, stopping him was practically impossible.

The hilarity of victory soon overcame the anger for the losses. Alexander was healed quickly thanks to his Healing Skills and immediately organized banquets that lasted days and nights, seeming never ending. But the celebrations were interrupted by a missive from the big wigs of the continent.

An order - no, a threat. If he had not released all the slaves, Alexander would have been declared public enemy number one and an alliance between nations would have been created specifically to destroy him.

Helial supported Alexander in all his choices and, once again, he proved ready to fight alongside his King against a possible coalition. By now the boy lived among the Madonis as if he were one of them, without any memory of his real life. Within that Illusion, even his Phase had by far exceeded his real one. His mind had already dealt with all the bottlenecks and if he continued at this rate, he would soon reach Immortality

…

Inside Helial's soul

Sitting around a bare table, a man, a Devil and a horse were talking to each other.

"Twenty years have passed. I thought you were only going to train him, not to make him live another life," said Iblis, sipping fruit juice.

Alexander sighed and crossed his arms on his chest. "In the past, he didn't receive the teachings he needed. Within my Time Block, however, battle after battle, he has been forged for command, for strategy and has understood how great leaders think. Living in his brother's shadow, like a mouse, his mind would hardly have become suitable for a commander."

"He cannot go further in Levels. Not now, at least. If he touches the gates of Immortality with his mind in an Illusion, his Soul would have a great difficulty growing, once returned to reality."

"If you are such an incredible teacher, why didn't you think of it? Without my King, this disciple of yours would have remained a sewer rat," whinnied Bucephalus.

"After reaching a certain level, the concept of time seems increasingly dilated. Being powerful also means seeing time flow slowly. May Mana assist me when I say I would rather be a prostitute at the First Phase rather than hear a fucking horse spitting bullshit all day," muttered Iblis.

"Keep calm, calm now," yawned Alexander.

"You once had a nice temper," Iblis pointed out, opening a gap in space, projected onto the Illusion in which Helial was. From there he could see the King of the Madonis completely drunk, toasting on the corpses of his enemies. "You did some pretty bad massacres, apparently. Why are you so different now?"

Alexander got up from his chair and lay down on the lawn, feeling the freshness of the grass. In that natural pose, he no longer looked like a King. He was just what was left of a human being.

…

"Alexander! Your men are dying, they are hungry and tired. How are you going to conquer the rest of the universe, alone?!" Shouted Crater to his King. The General could no longer recognize his King, his childhood friend Alexander.

Since he had conquered more than half of the peoples of the universe, the King had begun to wear clothes different from the Madonis' sober ones. Now he wore precious coloured fabrics, following barbaric fashion, and ate only uncommon, expensive food. The education he received, based on frugality, seemed to have been totally forgotten.

"The men are exhausted. However many Immortals may be in our ranks, they too can go no further. They can no longer raise their weapons, use their Formations and absolutely not assault strongholds covered from top to bottom by esoteric Formations never seen before. Let's go home; we can't stay here any longer!"

But Alexander intended to continue his campaign of conquest in unknown lands.

Everyone opposed him.

The soldiers began to refuse to march on, one after another.

Seeing that mutiny, Alexander for a while remained closed in his tent, furious. Anger and despair attacked him like cruel enemies, laying him an ambush that would mortally wound him.

Going back, for him, would have been a defeat.

However, how could he conquer new territories without an army? In the end, Alessandro made a decision: he gave orders to dismantle the camp and march home.

The greatest king, the King of Kings, Alexander, was not defeated by any enemy. His own troops did it.