Chapter 49 - The Eternal Dream

After an uncertain amount of time

Max sat atop the ornate throne, his crimson eyes surveying the vast hall before him. The banners of victory adorned the high ceilings, and the flickering glow of enchanted torches cast long shadows across the marble floors. The room was silent, save for the distant hum of magic that resonated through the air—a testament to his unparalleled dominance. He had achieved what no one else could: complete control over the Syndicate, the adventurer guilds, and the fractured kingdoms. In this moment, he was untouchable—a god among mortals.

But the silence weighed heavily on him. It was not the silence of peace but the void of solitude. His victories, as monumental as they were, came at a cost. Those who had once stood by his side had either fallen or drifted away, unable to keep pace with his relentless ambition.

Max closed his eyes, allowing the memories of his journey to flood his mind. The battles, the betrayals, the alliances—each moment carved into his very soul. He smirked to himself, the corner of his mouth curling upward. 'It was worth it,' he thought. 'Every drop of blood, every ounce of pain.'

Yet, as his mind drifted, a strange sensation overtook him. It was as if time itself had begun to unravel. The hum of magic in the hall grew distant, and the weight of his crown seemed to dissolve. When he opened his eyes again, the hall was gone.

...

The sun filtered through sheer white curtains, casting a soft glow over a modest bedroom. Max blinked, disoriented, as the familiar scent of lavender and freshly laundered sheets filled his senses. His surroundings were impossibly normal: a neatly made bed, a small desk cluttered with papers, and the faint hum of life outside the window.

"Max, wake up!" A cheerful voice pierced through the haze of his confusion. He turned to see a young woman standing by the bed, her arms crossed and a playful smile on her lips. She had vibrant chestnut hair and sparkling green eyes that radiated warmth.

"Liza?" Max's voice was hoarse, as though he hadn't used it in years.

"Who else?" she teased, leaning closer. "Come on, sleepyhead. You promised you wouldn't oversleep today of all days."

Max sat up slowly, his mind racing to piece together what was happening. "What day?"

Liza rolled her eyes dramatically. "Seriously? You forgot? It's our wedding day, Max!"

The words hit him like a thunderclap. 'Wedding day?' He stared at her, trying to reconcile the vivid memories of battles and bloodshed with the serene reality before him. The weight of the orb, the taste of victory, the cold emptiness of the throne room—all of it felt so real. Yet here he was, in a life so blissfully mundane it bordered on absurdity.

"Are you feeling okay?" Liza asked, her expression softening as she placed a hand on his forehead. "You look pale."

Max managed a weak smile, shaking his head. "I'm fine. Just...a weird dream."

Liza laughed, her voice a melody that eased the tension in his chest. "Well, shake it off. We've got a big day ahead." She kissed his forehead before darting out of the room, her laughter trailing behind her. "Don't keep me waiting!"

...

Max spent the next few hours preparing, his movements mechanical as his mind grappled with the surreal nature of his circumstances. Every corner of the house was filled with small, intimate details of a life he couldn't remember living: a framed photo of him and Liza on a beach, a collection of books he apparently loved, and a calendar marked with mundane appointments.

The wedding itself was a blur of color and emotion. Max stood at the altar, dressed in a sharp suit that fit him perfectly, as Liza walked down the aisle. Her dress flowed like liquid silk, and the smile on her face was brighter than the sun. The ceremony was simple, heartfelt, and unremarkable in the way only true happiness could be.

As he held her hands and recited the vows, a part of him wanted to believe this was real. That this life, free of conflict and bloodshed, was his true reality. But the shadow of doubt lingered, an unshakable whisper at the back of his mind.

...

That night, as the festivities wound down and the guests departed, Max found himself alone on the balcony of their new home. The night sky stretched endlessly above him, the stars a comforting constant. Liza joined him, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his shoulder.

"You've been quiet today," she said softly. "More than usual."

Max hesitated, his crimson eyes reflecting the starlight. "Just...thinking."

"About what?"

He turned to face her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "About how lucky I am," he said, the words tasting foreign on his tongue but feeling oddly right.

Liza smiled, her eyes glistening with emotion. "Me too."

They stood there in silence, the world around them fading into the background. For a brief moment, Max allowed himself to believe that this was his life. That the blood-soaked battles, the cold throne, and the whispers of the orb were nothing more than a fleeting nightmare.

But deep down, he knew better.

...

As the weeks passed, Max settled into his new life with Liza. He threw himself into the small joys of domesticity, from morning walks in the garden to late-night conversations by the fire. Yet the shadow of his past lingered, haunting him in quiet moments. It wasn't the memories of his conquests that troubled him, but the feeling that he had left something unfinished.

One night, as he lay in bed beside Liza, sleep eluded him. He stared at the ceiling, his mind a tumult of questions and doubts. 'Was this real? Or was it another test, another layer in the labyrinth of his existence?'

"Max?" Liza's voice broke the silence, soft and drowsy.

He turned to face her, his heart aching at the sight of her serene expression. "Yeah?"

"Whatever it is you're fighting, you don't have to do it alone," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed. "I'm here. Always."

Her words settled over him like a balm, easing the turmoil in his chest. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know," he whispered. "Thank you. My love."

As she drifted back to sleep, Max closed his eyes, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. Whether this was reality or a dream, he resolved to cherish it for as long as it lasted.

...

The next morning, Max awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. Liza was already up, her laughter echoing from the kitchen. He stretched, the warmth of the sunlight washing over him. For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

He rose to start the day, the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread wafting through the house. As he stepped into the hallway, he caught sight of Liza bustling in the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune. The simple domesticity of the moment filled him with a deep, unshakable contentment.

"Good morning, darling!" Liza called out, turning to greet him with a radiant smile. "I made your favorite breakfast."

Max's lips curved into a genuine smile as he joined her at the table. The shadows of his dream no longer lingered in the corners of his mind. This was his reality now, a life filled with love, peace, and purpose. Whatever trials he had faced before, they had led him here—to a place where he truly belonged.

And for Max, that was more than enough.