Waking Up

The brief sleep Ivan had managed to find while resting on Ludmila's lap had been deeply restorative, a rare moment of peace for him. Sleep had never come easily—not due to insomnia, but because his mind was always in overdrive, constantly replaying memories, even the most irrelevant ones. Even with his eyes closed, he couldn't escape the vivid recall of events, many of which had happened years ago.

If only they were pleasant memories, he thought. But most of them were far from it, filled with the worst moments of his life. And after inheriting the memories of seven others—six of them antagonists—sleep had become nearly impossible. The peaceful life Yvan had once lived on Earth felt like a distant dream, overshadowed by the torrent of hatred, pain, anger, and greed that now coursed through him.

These weren't just fleeting emotions; they were alive inside him, intertwined with his own consciousness. The ambitions and desires of the other antagonists burned within him. What others might have seen as Ivan 'playing around' over the past month was, in truth, his struggle to reconcile his fragmented mind—to hold together the pieces of himself and the identities of those other lives. The burden was more than just mental—it took a physical toll on him, an exhaustion that went beyond any pain he should have been immune to. 

Each of the other personas was vastly different from him. Their motivations, their goals, their driving forces—they all collided within him, making every day a battle for control.

And so, in this moment of brief respite, Ivan was grateful for the comfort Ludmila's lap had provided. It had allowed him to recover, if only a little, from the pressure.

It was his body and Ivan was quite strong so of course he was in control but the other Antagonists weren't any less twisted and dangerous than him.

When Ivan awoke, the dawn's light was just beginning to filter through the night sky. He found Ludmila asleep, her head resting gently on his chest. Careful not to wake her, Ivan lifted her in his arms and began the quiet walk back into the palace.

The early morning halls were nearly deserted, as expected. The nobles were kept under tight watch, and only his own men patrolled the grounds, serving as guards. As Ivan strode through the palace with Ludmila in his arms, the soldiers he passed quickly dropped to one knee in respect, their eyes briefly meeting his before they looked down.

Ivan barely acknowledged them, his mind focused on finding Mikhail, Dimitri, or Kamila. He would only entrust Ludmila's care to one of them. 

"That damn Ludomir disappeared out of nowhere."

"He's probably sulking because Ivan rejected him."

"I know that, but I needed him to handle the Cathedral. We need supplies! Why are they sending more weapons to those useless cities? Camelot is the capital—it's the most important to protect."

"The Cathedral likely thinks we're doing better than the other Legions. They assume we'll manage, as always but yeah… we are running low on weaponry."

As Ivan moved through the palace corridors, he quickly spotted Mikhail and Dimitri ahead. Mikhail seemed annoyed a bit, while Dimitri, as usual, remained composed. It was clear they had been awake for a while even though it was early in the morning. 

"I knew those other Legions were a bunch of useless but I didn't expect this much?" Mikhail scoffed, exaggeratedly critizing his colleagues without care.

"I wouldn't say that," Dimitri replied thoughtfully. "But that princess—she's certainly making things easier for us." He was referring to Gwenyra Pendragon, who, despite being their prisoner, had been tirelessly working for the sake of her people and family. In many ways, she was more efficient than several nobles combined.

With Ivan's men dutifully patrolling the capital, gathering intelligence, and overseeing the rebuilding of Camelot, the city had remained relatively stable. Kamila kept a close eye on the royals and nobles, ensuring that no suspicious activity slipped by unnoticed while watching over them. 

Mikhail and Dimitri maintained order, swiftly preventing any unrest by managing public executions and other necessary measures.

Ludmila, on the other hand, handled the city's welfare—ensuring food supplies and other essentials were taken care of and overall the wall city. Each of them played a vital role, and because of their combined efforts, Camelot was growing back, even in the wake of the recent battle.

But there was no denying it—they were running low on weapons. The battle a month ago had drained their resources, and although they had managed so far, it was becoming increasingly clear to anyone paying attention that their stockpiles were dwindling. If the Cathedral continued to prioritize other cities, it wouldn't be long before their shortage became a serious problem.

"The princess, huh?" Mikhail chuckled, his arms crossed behind his head. "I have to admit, I was shocked when Ivan spared her out of nowhere. But I get it now." He laughed again, mimicking Ivan's voice under the influence of the Siver King. "'It would be a shame to kill such a beauty'—come on, that was a bit over the top, but hilarious. Kukuku."

"He didn't mean any of it," Dimitri replied.

"Really?" Mikhail teased. "Maybe Ivan's got a thing for the princess, huh?"

"Don't let Ludmila or my sister hear you say that, Mikhail."

Mikhail grinned but took the hint. Dimitri had a theory that Ludomir hadn't disappeared out of mere heartbreak over Ivan's rejection, but rather out of fear of Kamila. She'd been giving Ludomir death glares all the night while handling the night shifts, overseeing the noble. There were even rumors of a shriek Ludomir let out this night—unbecoming of a man his age—likely the result of Kamila's intimidating presence.

Kamila could be terrifying when she wanted to be, but Ludmila was another matter entirely. She had never been the meek woman some assumed her to be. The only time she ever softened was in Ivan's presence, and even then, the calming influence of Mikhail, Dimitri, and Kamila—whom she considered family—played a significant role in tempering her.

"Oh, Ivan? You're up?" Mikhail said, noticing Ivan standing before them. "I thought you'd already left."

"I'm leaving now. Where's Kamila?" Ivan asked.

"She's sleeping like a log," Dimitri answered. "She's been up all night, finalizing the agreements with the nobles."

The documents Dimitri referred to were official testaments, signed by the nobles who had attended the royal weddings. They not only confirmed their loyalty to Ivan but also to Gwenyra, binding them in writing to the new order of Camelot.

Ivan gave a brief nod, then gently passed Ludmila into Dimitri's care. "Take her to Kamila."

Dimitri accepted her with ease and swiftly left without a word, heading to Kamila's room.

Mikhail, still leaning casually, watched Ivan for a moment before speaking. "Already leaving, huh? No idea what you're up to, but knowing you, it's gotta be something tough." 

A rare, almost imperceptible smile flickered at the corners of Ivan's lips. Mikhail had no idea just how difficult it was for Ivan to blend into the world around him—surrounded by people he considered weak, insignificant, like ants. The effort it took to mask the true weight of his existence was more than anyone could imagine. Thankfully he woulc switch to Yvan for that.

"Call Urvan. I need him here," Ivan said.

"Alright," Mikhail nodded. "But when will you be back?"

"Within the next week," Ivan replied.

"Hm. I can call him now if you want, but don't expect him to stay long. He belongs to the Cathedral," Mikhail said, crossing his arms. Urvan was a valuable asset—one of the best—but he wasn't tied to any single Legion. His loyalty was to the Cathedral itself, which meant even if he came to Camelot, he likely wouldn't linger for more than a few hours.

But Ivan was indifferent. "I don't care what he thinks. Keep him in Camelot until I return."

Mikhail chuckled, amused by Ivan's reply. "Sure, whatever you say."

Without another word, Ivan turned, pulling out the artifact that would transport him back to Ocryphia. As he glanced down at the relic in his hand, a thought crossed his mind: 'I need to find more of these things.' 

The artifact was invaluable—a safeguard, a means of escape should real danger arise but for Ivan it was more than that.

Though Ivan doubted that anything or anyone could truly pose a threat to Camelot as long as Mikhail, Dimitri, Kamila, and Ludmila were present, he couldn't ignore the fact that certain weapons and beings existed that could harm even them. After all, they were branded as Antagonists for a reason. They were fated to die, just as Zenon's novel dictated. The story had its own rules, and Ivan wasn't naive enough to think they were invincible.

"I leave it to you, Mikhail," Ivan said, giving him a meaningful look. Among the four, Ivan entrusted Mikhail the most. At first glance he didn't as reliable as the others with his casual behavior but Ivan knew he could count on the eldest of all five of them for everything.

"Come on, you know me," Mikhail smiled.

With a brief nod, Ivan channeled mana into the artifact, and in an instant, his body was enveloped in a shimmering light before vanishing completely.

Mikhail stood there for a moment, staring at the now empty spot where Ivan had been. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. 

"Damn, you really know how to get me emotional."