I Was Designed to Be Eaten Alive

"I must admit," Heise purred, gracefully circling the glass coffin, "the Ru we offer you is... a clone."

The monarch's fingers tightened imperceptibly on his throne's armrest.

"King Ru cannot leave his prison—that wretched crystal tower floating in the dead corner of eternity. Who put him there? Ah... a secret for another time." He smiled slyly. "But loneliness is a creative tormentor."

He paused, tilting his head toward the sleeping figure in the coffin. "So he plants seeds. His essence, twisted with the heart of a demon, fed on human infants. The seed devours the child... And from that empty cradle, a new Ru blooms."

Heise pivoted smoothly, his silk robe whispering against the grass as he turned toward the monarch seated in the garden—a figure of regal stillness on his wrought-iron throne. The air grew heavier, thick with unspoken warnings.

"Perhaps," Heise mused, tilting his head, "you'd prefer to meet Ru's final clone? The one born in that... delightful era when demons danced like wildfire." His smile sharpened. "Speaking of demons—"

The monarch's hand lifted—a single, glacial motion. His gray eyes, cold as a blade's edge, burned with silent menace.

Heise retreated, a pantomime of obedience. "Ah, but I forget. This topic bores you, Highness." His fingers plucked dewdrops from the leaves with delicate precision, rolling them between his palms until they shimmered into a floating sphere. Water distorted the light, warping the garden beyond it.

"Then let me show you," Heise murmured, "the last clone."

The water sphere quivered, its surface tension stretching like a living membrane. Inside, the swirling shadows condensed—coagulating into shapes, colors, and a world materializing from the droplets. The reflection twisted, then snapped into focus.

A classroom. Stark fluorescent lights were buzzing overhead. The acrid scent of dry-erase markers was mixed with teenage sweat.

Ru sat slumped at his desk, the perfect picture of disinterested youth. His chin rested in his palm, dark bangs falling into half-lidded eyes that glimmered with secret amusement. Beneath the scratched laminate desktop, his thumbs danced across a smartphone screen—tap-tap-tapping out messages with practiced ease.

The chalk scratched rhythmically at the board. Some teacher droned on about quadratic equations.

No one noticed how Ru's shadow stretched just a fraction too long across the linoleum floor. No one saw the way the fluorescent lights dimmed slightly when he smirked at whatever illicit conversation he was conducting.

Heise's voice curled through the vision like smoke: "Even gods get bored in math class."

Ru: Sometimes I swear my life's a show and someone's watching. You ever feel that?

SD: Get over yourself, princess.

The teacher's voice cut through: "Rui. The solution?"

Ru didn't even glance up. "X equals negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus four a c, all over two a." His fingers kept flying across the screen.

Ru: Your boy genius is broke as hell. Can't afford narcissism.

SD: LOL

As the teacher turned away, Ru's grin turned wolfish. His next message flashed onscreen.

Ru: Stage tonight. Then your place?

SD: I'm jealous.

The shadow stretched unnaturally long across the linoleum as he typed.

Ru: Up my allowance then. But you can't stop the show.

Then—

A voice, smooth yet sharp like steel, whispered, "I see you, thief."

The classroom lights stuttered. Ru's phone screen exploded with notifications - 777 missed calls from UNKNOWN. A single message burned crimson: FOUND YOU.

"WHO—" His hand tightened around the phone.

His vision fractured.

A tower of singing crystal

Chains of searing light

The pulsing, wrong heartbeat in his chest.

"Ancient King," the voice hissed—it sounded like his voice, but it was not.

"Who's there?" Ru whispered, his voice lost in the growing chaos.

A girl's voice pierced his mind, sharp and urgent. "They're coming for you, little king!" It rang from nowhere, trembling with warning.

"You must escape! Escape now or they will kill you again!"

"Again?"

Ru fumbled for the pill in his pocket—antipsychotic, antipsychotic—but the voice hissed on:

"This isn't a dream! DEMONS KNOW WHAT YOU STOLE!"

"Demon?"

The classroom shook as a red light suddenly appeared and flickered like a heartbeat. The vision sharpened—a crystal prison, a sorcerer's cruel smile, and a masked figure's gray eyes watching him.

His deskmate grabbed his arm. "Dude, are you okay? You're shaking."

"I... don't know," Ru stammered, his voice barely audible.

The lights flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. A low growl echoed from the shadows, not human, not animal—a sound that clawed at Ru's spine. The girl's voice rang out, cold and clear. "The Gates of Hell are opening, little king. Run!"

Something moved in the darkness—a shape, too large, too wrong, its eyes glinting like embers. The air grew thick with the scent of ash and brimstone.

Ru's breath caught.

"This is no hallucination."

Somewhere in the darkness beyond the glass coffin, a sorcerer laughed.

"This one... will burn brighter."