"The Brave" Roggman is sitting on his favorite, the exquisite and gorgeous soft chair in the living room. His face is ruddy, his body is as strong as before, his eyes are mixed with flames and storms, but his broad and powerful palms are
Trembling slightly.
Everything started more than ten days ago.
The empire's unwillingness to 'peace' will not shake his position. The soldiers are still loyal to him, as are Barak and Cullen. The lost officials will be replaced by new ones, and the people will soon be replaced.
Forget previous failures.
This country can continue to function normally without anyone - except him.
Having experienced this defeat, he will not repeat the same mistake next time. He has enough time to methodically spend dozens or even hundreds of years to make the Oren Empire stronger from the inside out. Until then, as long as he continues
If there is a good enough opportunity, he will restore the original glory of the empire with overwhelming force.
Until that morning.
The day before, he reviewed government affairs and read books as usual. He did not change clothes and go to bed until early in the morning, and then woke up before the morning sun. This routine has lasted for several months - ever since he received the blessing of the "Lord of Heaven",
He has endless energy, and sleep is just a waste of time for him.
He called his attendants, put on his regular clothes, walked into the courtyard in early autumn, and practiced a set of sword skills as a routine. Roggman had never set foot on the battlefield in person, but the king of the empire was convinced that he was enough to defeat most of the empire's famous swords.
Of course, excluding Barak, he is not arrogant to that extent.
At this moment, a strange feeling of weakness swept over him from the inside out. It surged up like a wave and disappeared like an ebbing tide, but it made Rogman almost unable to hold the sword in his hand.
He gasped for air, and the hot blood originally rising from sword practice suddenly condensed into cold drops of sweat on his forehead. A vague thought lingered in his chest - this is impossible, his body... what happened
?
Luogeman stood there for a long time, finally letting go of the fear in his heart, and slowly returned to the palace to start a new day's work.
It's just that he has been too tired recently, and everything will be as usual after two days of rest, he told himself. After all, his arm holding the sword is still strong, and his mind is still extremely clear. The weakness just now cannot change the fact that he is still full of energy.
However, reality betrayed him once again.
In the afternoon, the feeling of weakness came back. It was much milder than the time in the morning, but it took a long time to completely subside. The feeling was very contradictory - his vitality did not weaken at all, nor did he feel tired or sleepy, but his body's instinct was true.
Seriously give him some kind of warning.
He put down the official document in his hand and planned to go back to the living room to take a nap. Until then, Rogman was surprised to find that he could not fall asleep. Even if he closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing, his heart was still beating violently.
And the brain... shows no signs of getting ready to rest.
That night, Luogeman had a nightmare for the first time in months. The dream was also vague. He woke up panting heavily, his body filled with heat. He looked out the window. The sun had not risen yet, and his sleepiness had long since disappeared.
The situation was getting worse every day. He began to lose his appetite for food, but his body kept reminding him that he needed to replenish energy. At first, the feeling of weakness only appeared from time to time, but now it is like a lingering devil, tightly grasping his nerves and soul.
.That has affected his actions. Rogman must use a strong will to complete his daily routine as he did in the past.
His appearance is still as usual, with no wrinkles on his face, and the muscles on his arms are solid and powerful. But the inside of this body is decaying. Rogman can feel that the end may be... not far ahead, but everything
When did it start?
He held his forehead with his hand, closed his eyes, and tried to find a moment of tranquility. At this time, a forgotten piece of advice from an unknown girl came back to his mind -
"Your body is full of vitality, Your Majesty Rogman, but it is not what you should have. A bowstring that is too tight is easy to break. Our bodies also need rest in order to work better. And, forgive me for being rude.
...Any acquisition may require a certain price, Your Majesty."
Rogman opened his eyes suddenly, and his eyes fell on a pile of official documents in front of the table. He struggled to stand up, opened the cabinet on the side, took out a dossier not long ago, and turned to that article as quickly as possible.
Report returned from the battlefield by Barak.
"The power of the Lord of Heaven acts on the bodies of these soldiers. Every time they are injured or die, while recovering, the vitality of their bodies will be depleted. I cannot confirm the specific limit, but nearly ten deaths or severe injuries,
It’s enough for a young soldier who should have lived for more than a hundred years to die.”
Everything seems to be understood. Ever since he accepted the 'blessing' from the "Lord of Heaven", the man in black robes has already foreseen the present. What's ridiculous is that he still thinks that the soldiers are just consumables worth being 'reused'
...but never thought that he himself was the same.
"Guard!" He put the file back on the shelf and yelled with all his strength, "Where is Cullen! Pass my message...ask him to come to me, now!"
The guard saluted respectfully, and his words instantly extinguished his anger. "Master Cullen is not in the palace. When he left last night, he said that he was going to pray to the "Lord of Heaven." He also said that when your majesty really needs him, he will
Will be back."
Come back to witness his death, and then treat it as...a sacrifice to the "Lord of Heaven"? Rogman tried hard to keep his hands steady and signaled the guards to return to their original positions to avoid being seen at all in his face.
fear.
The next day, Rogman did not go to the main hall. He shut himself in the living room and quickly recalled his life experiences. The short happy time in his childhood, the lofty ambitions of his youth, the sweet love he once had, and his first ascension to the throne.
The joy, the desire that is gradually tempered by reality, the ideal that is rekindled under a certain 'miracle', and finally——
All that was left was ashes on the ground and a dream.
Am I afraid of death? He asked himself this. The answer seemed very simple - anyone can be afraid; but he couldn't figure out what he was afraid of. It was his unfinished ambition, the future of the empire, and the undetermined heir.
Or...the unknowable world after death?
Maybe not. Only then did he realize that he had made wrong decisions more than once... Unfortunately, there was no chance for him to make up for it and correct it.
There was a soft knock on the door. Rogman raised his head and saw the familiar figure in black robes who had once been trusted, finally standing in front of him again.
"What are you doing here?" He whispered, "This is all...in your plan, right?"
The man in black robe slowly approached and put his palm on his forehead. The flame burning his life temporarily disappeared, and he calmed down.
"You will become the starting point of the new era, Your Majesty." Cullen Dahl bowed respectfully, "According to legend, my father created a "new star" and then turned it into our world. To the "Lord of Heaven",
You are part of that star..."
Cullen removed his palm, and the strong miracle fire returned again, devouring his remaining life.
He did not ask for forgiveness from the man in black robe, that was his last dignity. He grabbed the tea cup on the table, drank the cold liquid in it, stood up as usual, took big steps, and walked towards the throne that still belonged to him.
He dismissed everyone in front of him, including Cullen Dahl. Although the guards looked a little confused, they still faithfully carried out the instructions. He leaned alone on the solid and spacious throne, looking down at the empty hall, feeling in his heart
There was an indescribable sense of satisfaction.
This huge country and this glorious palace, at least for the moment, are his. As for who is the suitable successor, he once thought that there was no need to consider... so now, he is too lazy to care.
Regardless of whether it goes well or not, even without him, the empire can continue as before. Rogman thought so.
The feeling of weakness finally invaded his brain, and his thinking gradually became sluggish. He supported his forehead with his elbows so that he could maintain this posture.
The last thing that passed through my mind was a warning that was too long ago and I can no longer remember the specific situation——
"It's late, it's time to rest. Only by sleeping well can you grow up faster, my dear."
…
Saint Leon calendar year 458, Autumn month, twenty-first day. The twenty-fourth emperor of the Oren Empire, Rogman III Aurel, died on his throne at the age of ninety.
Years old - still a prime age for the Kamal people.
In the moment before his body lost its vitality, he still maintained vitality and youth. Cullen was not lying.