Chapter Three – "The Rules"

  Ylenor stayed by Eilan’s side as he had asked. Eilan pointed with his finger toward the bed, signaling Ylenor to sit closer.

  “Stay here… How could you leave your wounded king alone?”

  Eilan’s voice was tired, strained.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the sharp pain throbbing in his waist.

  “That pain… made me realize something… this isn’t a dream, not a hallucination. I’m really here, in this body… in this reality…” he whispered, his voice trembling.

  He lifted his gaze to Ylenor’s face.

  “…If it ends… I end too…” he continued in his mind.

  “And the one who will kill me in front of my eyes… I must know who is against me and who is with me.”

  “Then… let’s set the rules,” Eilan said.

  “The rules, my lord?” Ylenor asked, their eyes locking.

  “You stay by my side at all times. Do not leave without my permission…”

  Ylenor stared at Eilan silently for several seconds. “I will stay, my lord,” he said finally, his voice calm and firm, leaving no room for doubt.

  He stepped slightly forward and took the chair across from the bed, sitting with unwavering steadiness. His eyes never left Eilan’s face, watching every expression, every small movement.

  Eilan closed his eyes, thinking.

  “In the story, only a few characters mattered… And from what I remember… the most important figures in the coup were Ylenor, my personal royal guard, and Iris, the scout leader… Even though she’s barely mentioned, she played a huge role in the coup. That complicates things.”

  “The royal magical advisors… the sisters Aria and Yara… Aria gave the instructions for the coup, methods to kill me… Yara… I’ve never seen her, but knowing she’s Aria’s sister is enough.”

  “Damn it!… Because the story was from Ylenor’s perspective… the events of the coup, what happened to the king, weren’t detailed…”

  He sighed deeply.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Eilan spotted a large book in a glass-locked cabinet, faintly glowing.

  He gestured toward it.

  “Ylenor, bring me that book.”

  Ylenor rose, walked to the cabinet, opened it slowly, and retrieved the large book. He handed it to Eilan.

  A faint smile appeared on Eilan’s face as he held it. “I never thought… I’d feel satisfaction in simply having my request carried out… Before, my voice was never heard. I always obeyed, never gave orders.”

  He opened the book slowly, revealing its title: The Origin of Magic.

  “This will be very useful…”

  Since ancient times, magic had been an essential part of the human spirit.

  But not the human body. Humans are born with very little magical energy, barely usable.

  However, there were exceptions. Some humans had a different nervous system, capable of producing immense magical energy due to a rare gene.

  This gene had been preserved among nobles and kings, maintained through strict intermarriages for generations, considered sacred royal blood—an emblem of the throne.

  The gene could appear among commoners but extremely rarely… and its effects varied greatly.

  Those with the gene could produce magic, but humans cannot release it freely like magical creatures without severe risk to their body and the surrounding environment.

  There was a solution: since ancient times, humans could channel magic through specialized tools, rare and crafted only in royal workshops.

  Additionally, to release magical energy, one must recite an incantation in a very ancient language, believed to be the language of the gods. This language was never written down and carefully guarded in a place known as the Immortal Hall.

  “Ylenor…” Eilan murmured in surprise.

  “Who owns this book?”

  Ylenor looked at him, puzzled. “I… I don’t know, my lord. But judging by its quality, it must be rare.”

  Eilan sighed. “It must be limited… It has to be! Isn’t it dangerous for the public to know some of this? And isn’t the Immortal Hall supposed to be a secret?”

  “Years of care went into this book… and now it acts as if reading for the first time,” Ylenor raised an eyebrow, observing Eilan’s strange behavior.

  Eilan turned the pages, stopping at the elements of magic:

  Fire, Water, Sky, Moon, Earth, Stars.

  Magic was divided into three types:

  Instant Magic:

  Requires no materials, used for rapid control, usually formed with basic elements. Incantations are simple, and power ranges from weak to moderate.

  Material Magic:

  Requires collecting specific materials and combining two elements. Power ranges from moderate to strong.

  Complex Rituals:

  Massive incantations requiring more than two elements, sometimes aligned with celestial timing or sacrifices. Power ranges from difficult to catastrophic.

  “Learning this won’t be easy… but at least I know the rules now,” Eilan said as he continued reading.

  But then he noticed something…

  Most of the pages ahead were blank. More than half the book was empty.

  He shook the book, checking the cover and title. Nothing. It was as if the book had stopped there.

  A light knocking sound came from the door.

  A man entered—average build, shoulder-length curly white hair, violet eyes, and pointed ears. He had a prominent scar below his lip and a long robe trailing behind him.

  Eilan immediately recognized him: Clith, the royal advisor.

  “Finally… an ally!” he shouted to himself. At last, he found someone who was truly with the king, not against him.

  Clith bowed. “My lord, we await your judgment in the throne room,” his voice stern. Seeing Ylenor in the room, a flicker of annoyance crossed his face.

  Eilan knew the king’s choice in the story… execution. But now he had to decide: follow the story, or forge his own path.

  Eilan proceeded to the throne room, Clith ahead and Ylenor behind. The size of the castle struck him—wide corridors, intricate wall carvings…

  A massive door opened, revealing the throne, adorned with countless gemstones.

  Eilan stood before it. Five nobles knelt, their bodies marked by blows and torture, tears in their eyes. Each had a knight behind them, ready to carry out orders.

  Clith said, “We await your verdict, my lord.”

  Eilan’s gaze swept over the nobles. Their pleading eyes were heavy with desperation. All the power, all the lives, hung on his single word.

  But… among the fearful, tearful faces, one stood out. His expression was different: possessive, disgusted, hating… staring at Eilan with the same contempt others once showed him.

  Eilan’s face cooled, tension replaced by icy resolve.

  A faint, controlled smile appeared on his lips.

  “Behead them… and hang their heads on the gates…”

  He paused, watching their frozen faces

  “Let them be an example…”