The Weak King

Chapter 4 : The Weak King

The room was wrapped in silence when Asharic's eyes slowly fluttered open. The soft night breeze drifted in through the open balcony, and beyond it, the moonlight bathed the capital in a pale silver hue. Darkness had already fallen.

__________

Asharic's POV

So... I lost consciousness.

Maybe it's this fragile body... it hasn't moved properly in years.

But... that doesn't make sense. From the memories... this body was strong. Exceptionally strong. The most gifted in the empire.

He was crowned Emperor at the age of eighteen... not only because of politics, but because of his unmatched power and talent.

Then what's wrong with this body now?

His gaze shifted, and there she was.. Anevra, his second wife... curled up asleep on the nearby sofa. Papers were still scattered across the table beside her... a few even resting on her lap. She must have fallen asleep while working.

Asharic slowly rose, walking toward her with quiet steps.

Golden strands of hair framed her delicate face, her brows still furrowed even in sleep. Her crimson eyes were closed, but the intensity of her presence hadn't lessened.

She's exhausted... guess even someone like her can become tired.

All this work... it must've been piling up since no one's taken the throne in years.

The old Asharic... he cared deeply about her. That much I've seen in the memories.

And now...

Now it feels like I care too.

Strange. In my past life... I never got attached to people. Never cared much for strangers. But this... this is different.

Maybe it's the heart of this body. Or maybe it's just me now.

He leaned down and gently slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lifted her into his arms.

"...Tch."

Even this... carrying her felt heavy. Too heavy.

This body really is weak.

From the memories... he could toss boulders, hold his breath for minutes, lift warhorses with with just hands. And now... even this is difficult.

Asharic steadied himself, gritting his teeth and quietly circulating his aura through his core, down his legs, and into his arms. The warmth spread, giving him just enough strength to remain upright.

It's going to take time...

Time and effort to regain everything.

Maybe there's medicine or some special concoction in this world that can help speed up the recovery...

He stepped slowly toward the bed and gently laid Anevra down, pulling the covers over her.

But then... it came.

"Ahhh?!"

The pain in his head slammed back... sharper, stronger, worse than before.

What the hell is this again?!

Even when I was dying... it didn't hurt this much!

His knees gave out.

The world tilted... spinning...

And then... everything went black as he collapsed beside her onto the bed.

_________

The morning sunlight filtered in through the tall glass doors of the balcony, washing the chamber in a warm, golden hue.

Anevra stirred slightly as the light reached her closed eyes. Her lashes fluttered… then slowly opened.

"??? ...Where... am I?"

She blinked once, disoriented. The documents were no longer in her lap. The cold chair where she'd been working all night was not behind her.

Instead… she was lying in bed.

She shifted slightly... and froze.

Her head was resting on something warm.

No, not something… someone.

She turned her eyes sideways and there he was.

Asharic.

Sleeping… breathing quietly… and her head was tucked gently into the crook of his arm.

She didn't move.

She just stared for a moment, heart quietly thudding in her chest.

"...Did I… walk here on my own?" she whispered to herself. "I must've been more tired than I thought…"

She didn't remember coming to bed. Didn't remember collapsing here.

And yet here she was. Close enough to hear the steady rhythm of his breath.

Her gaze softened.

Asharic's face had changed. Even in sleep, he looked different. Not weak... just quieter. Like the storms had moved deeper beneath the surface.

Without thinking, she leaned in, her face hovering just inches above his.

Her voice was almost a breath.

"I'm tired, Asharic… You have to wake up soon..."

She stayed like that for a moment longer, then sat up slowly, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face.

"I should freshen up first," she murmured softly, rubbing the stiffness from her neck. "Then devote some time to training… and see to the remaining documents thereafter."

Her eyes drifted back to him.

"What should I do… do I find someone else to take care of His Majesty?"

A sigh escaped her lips.

"…But who? He's never allowed anyone near him except us three."

A pause.

"I don't even know how he allowed Mireth," she murmured. "But… I guess it's better this way. I don't have the time to sit here all day."

She got off the bed, straightened her robe, and stepped softly across the room.

"I should put one of the guards outside the door," she said to herself. "At least until I return."

As the door shut behind her…

Asharic slowly opened his eyes.

"…So she's tired too."

His voice was quiet. Heavy.

"I need to get better fast… but I wonder…"

He sat up, eyes thoughtful.

"Will the nobles accept someone like this? A body this weak… A weak king... ?"

A bitter chuckle escaped him.

"No… Of course not. I have to regain what this body once had. Or surpass it."

He rose from the bed with effort, his balance steadied by the now-familiar act of circulating what little aura he could gather.

Step by step, he moved to the mirror across the room.

The reflection stared back at him.

Tall.

Sharp.

Worn, but not broken.

"…So this is me now."

His hand touched the mirror's edge.

The body was still in shape... lean muscles, faded but defined. The veins still curled along his arms like threads of power once forgotten.

The red eyes… dark as fresh blood.

The golden hair… untamed, shining like sunlight itself.

"…Dragonblood," he whispered.

"And this color… this hair… it's not just dragon."

His voice dropped to a murmur.

"There's angel in this blood too…"

His fingers curled against the glass.

"I need to become strong again… Not just for me, and.

I think I've got an idea where I might be… This Dragonblood feels way too familiar. I just need to confirm it."

___________

The dim light of a flickering torch illuminated the room, casting twisted shadows against walls lined with rusted chains, old shackles, and dried blood stains.

The air was thick with the stench of iron and damp stone ... a place built for screams and silence, not conversation.

In the center of the room, seated on a throne-like chair of polished obsidian and dragonbone, was a man. His figure was obscured by the shadows, save for the piercing glow of his dark red eyes, fixated downward without a shred of empathy.

Kneeling before him was a figure cloaked in black from head to toe, a shadow knight whose face was hidden beneath layers of cloth. His voice was low and composed.

"I have something to report to you," he said.

The red eyes narrowed.

The shadow knight continued, "It appears that the third lady… is with child. Her second."

Silence stretched, heavy and threatening.

A smile crept across the lips of the man seated on the throne.... slow, wicked, and utterly joyless. Bloodlust simmered behind his eyes.

Across the room stood a woman with long, dark blue hair cascading down her back like a midnight waterfall.

She wore armor reminiscent of a knight's, though it was far from modest.... black leather and steel clung to her figure, leaving much exposed and nothing to the imagination. Her thighs were bare, her arms sleeved in jagged metal, and her chest guarded only by interlocking plates. Every inch of her radiated danger.

Under her heel, a bloodied man writhed... or tried to. His face was nearly unrecognizable, mangled and soaked in red. Each breath was a struggle, and the weight of her boot on his skull kept him pinned against the cold stone floor.

The shadow knight spoke again.

"There is one more thing, Your Highness... The second princess entered the King Palace the day before yesterday. We do not yet know why, but perhaps... the third lady might."

The seated man's smile widened... crueler now, almost entertained.

He rose halfway from his seat, eyes gleaming like rubies in torchlight.

"Looks like…" he murmured, his voice a low purr of malice, "I'll have to pay her a visit."

The blue haired woman glanced back at him, a smirk tugging at her lips as the nearly-dead man twitched beneath her heel.