Dear disciples, fear, sadness, and regret are useless emotions that weaken and hold you back from reaching greater heights. However, you must fear incompetence; fear the coming of the unworthy to power; fear the dictatorships of the foolish, who, with their greed and hypocrisy, pollute the ignorant underfoot.
Such filthy beings do not care about the future of the world. Under their rule, they seek only to fill their lands with chaos, death, and poverty.
Even I, a worthy man who humbly strove to reach the uncharted summit of power; I, a person who would bring good to the kingdom and its inhabitants; I, whom the heavens had chosen as their unsullied champion… I was attacked because of their ugly sins.
Hypocrisy, injustice, and unbridled desire motivated them to fight against me. Fools. The lowly could never defeat me by themselves, as no one in this world compares to a single finger of mine, but it was not one or two, but dozens of them, hundreds of them, attacked me at once.
Monster, madman, demon, heartless bastard… all kinds of adjectives were imposed on me.
I am strong. I am immovable and unchangeable, and yet, their words wounded me. I got so upset that blood, flesh, and other filth was splattered everywhere.
The stench was too much. Not even the unstoppable fire was able to eliminate it.
Damned. Damned bastards. Their heartless actions took the lives of my sons. They, the poor, innocent children, died one by one, and even though those assholes also fell, the value between the two species was incomparable!
Yes, I spent so much time, money, and effort to create them. Them? They were not even worth the price of a grain of sand. Originating from the wild and loveless fornication between their parents, they were unplanned, unwanted, and useless beings not worthy of taking the lives of my little ones.
Revenge. I demanded revenge. At that then, I was still too young, so my emotions controlled much of my being. I fought full of courage and immaturity, with the only thought of not stopping until each of them died.
Blind. Again, I was blind, as I was in that mansion. The light of the ceaseless fire blinded me. I forgot the most essential thing in this world. I forgot the importance of absolute power. I forgot the difference between classes. For just as I overwhelmed such insects with my vast abilities, there was someone who could overwhelm me.
The rage against those maggots made me forget that the beings of dirty and corrupt blood still held the leash of the best battle beast in the whole kingdom in their hands.
The old venerable, shameless, cowardly appeared on the battlefield just as I was about to complete my revenge.
Although talent is the supreme blessing that separates the cattle from the genuine winners, it is not always able to beat time. However, it allows the fight against it.
That slave could not defeat me. That lowly chained animal could not kill me. We fought to exhaustion; until the roof fell on our heads.
In the end, I managed to put his head under my feet; in the end, I managed to get out of there victorious, but the cost was higher than expected.
I couldn’t stay in that place any longer. I didn’t have the strength to fight another round. All my pets were dead except for one, the smartest, the only good specimen who was just as damaged as I was. I had to leave, hide, heal, and grow.
I won the battle. Without a doubt, I won it. However, because of a damned incompetent, because of the damned king and his thousands of slaves, I lost the war, the bloody and unjust war.
Exiled yet not defeated, I left that place. Yes, I was expelled, but that was no more than a simple stepping stone for the growth of the one and only human emperor.
After that… I traveled and traveled. I took a map from someone and chose my destination. I found it, went in, and created it. I didn’t like it, so I went back and contacted that man. He brought me good and helpful things. I experimented. I experimented. I grew. We grew. We took and created. Then… then… that’s it.
That was all about my story. I have no more to tell, but…
The content of the previously written indicates that optimal stability has been reached, so it is time to bring it all to an end.
Yes, I must put an end to this. However, on this occasion, I will use the situation to take note of the actions I will take in the near future.
The first task of the day will be to conduct the experiment, which will take place in room B due to the problems that occurred during the previous procedure. In addition, room A should remain unused for about one year, so in the interest of future processes, it will be necessary to move the remaining tools to the other location.
In the evening, I will ask them to do so. After all, there shouldn’t be any problems now that the maintenance on the inscriptions has been done correctly, but if there are, it doesn’t matter.
The real problem is that the blood stock is running low. Although the arrival of the merchant is near, to avoid a possible emotional outburst, it will be necessary to keep the beasts from producing offspring for a while, at least until the next batch of materials is in my hands.
Food ingredients are also getting scarce. Lately, all we have had on our plates is the same meat prepared in various ways. Requesting new condiments is something I must do unconditionally. However, the delivery may be a little late, so if we don’t get a lucky break on our next heist, someone will end up paying for it with her life.
By going beyond the immediate. I remember writing something about resurrection. Absurd. Nevertheless, it will be necessary to study such a subject.
Unfortunately, I’m not at the right age to do it, but that won’t stop me. It should be enough to create an adequate plan for the magicians under my reign to create institutions focused on such research.
And when it comes to research, would it be right to try the brain swap again? The last time I tried it, it went wrong, but maybe luck is on my side today. Besides, what does it matter if I fail? After all, my departure time is near, and if by chance I succeed, the medicine for immortality may not be necessary.
Yes, today is a good day to do it. But since it’s not something I had planned, I’ll only try it with two subjects. Next time it will be with all of them, as any other result I get is useless, anyway.
I still have two years left in which to try. If after that I do not obtain a valuable result, I will eliminate all beings that can cause a stain on my legacy.
Two years… yes. Well, if my calculations are correct, with five more rounds of experiments, I will manage to obtain the ninth star.
After that, then, whatever happens, will happen…
. . . . .
Gold, silver, shields, swords, helmets, armor, jewelry, and all kinds of luxurious clothing were lying on the floor, where blue tiles received the light from the walls.
Walls simulating white marble, covered by painting pictures showing beautiful fantasy landscapes, elegant and tidy upper-class characters, or randomly drawn lines, but from which the painter’s feelings emerge. Regardless of what these fine arts represent, each of them shares the appearance of being expensive.
From the enormous white hall, which appears to be a king’s treasury, there is a strange sense of incoherence, for, contrary to all architectural logic, two large staircases rise from the sides of it, crashing into the ceiling, unable to reach any part of it.
In addition to the discomfort generated by the incongruous construction, the light coming from the sides, reflecting off the treasures strewn everywhere, reached an excessive degree, irritating the eyes of any onlooker who happened to be present.
It was. It would undoubtedly be painful to be there. Yet, despite this, in the middle of both staircases sat a dark wooden throne, upholstered with red cushions on the back, armrests, and seat, which was three times the size of the body of the old man sitting on it.
His face denoted complete indifference to all discomfort, for he was calmly writing words of unknown meaning on yellowed sheets of paper.
Perhaps tired of it all, he was not bothered by something as trivial as that since his face bore the traces of countless struggles he may have gone through during his youth.
On his head, a big dent in his right lobe ruined its shape of it, making it impossible to see its original roundness. In addition, the same wound had also claimed his ear, while the nearby eye looked very different from its counterpart as if it had been artificially transplanted.
The rest of his body was not at all better, for, in addition to the hump that age forced him to wear, his two hands were missing two fingers. And, on the lower part, going much further than a finger, his right leg had been entirely replaced by a wooden prosthesis.
The older man kept writing slowly for a long time on a large stone table, only pausing occasionally to think or remember.
For hours nothing changed in his actions until, just when it seemed that he had finished, he took up all that he had written to read it through again and again.
Then, satisfied that he was done, he picked up where he left off.
He continued without pause. He wrote with total fluency and confidence, so this time, it was not long before he reached the end.
When he finished, after leaving the pen he held with his scant fingers on the table, he carefully stood up while leaning on the armrests of the throne he had on his back.
Standing up properly, he tidied up the luxurious, elongated robe that stretched to drag on the floor. Then, at a slow and staggering pace, he approached the pile of treasures at the left corner of the hall from where, after arriving, he picked up a golden crown adorned with green, red, and blue jewels, which he placed on his head. However, due to his deformity, it ended up sliding down to where his ear should have been.
As if he was already used to carrying it that way, the old man did not even try to fix it before continuing his way in the direction of the only door in the place, which presumably leads to the exit of this one.
Upon arriving at his destination and after opening it, he was greeted by a dark corridor that contrasted sharply with the majestic atmosphere of the hall.
A dark, dirty, dank, and narrow corridor, into which the man, the old man, entered, leaving behind him the treasures, the throne, and the table from which ashes fall from its edges.