William breathed a long breath.
He felt filthy.
William looked at his hands.
There was blood.
William looked forward.
He saw darkness.
He felt like crying.
But tar came out of his eyes.
But he saw something in the darkness...
A light.
A man was smiling at him.
"Go now, take a breath..."
As William's chest tightened and his breath came in ragged gasps, he felt the weight of his actions bearing down on him like a crushing burden. The toll of suppressing the uprising, once dismissed as a minor inconvenience, now manifested as a physical and mental anguish that threatened to consume him.
In the aftermath of the conflict, the stark reality of the uprising's casualties weighed heavily on William's conscience. Each faceless rebel represented a life lost to desperation and manipulation, leaving behind grieving families and shattered communities.
The cries of anguish and the echoes of curses haunted William's thoughts, a relentless reminder of the human cost of his decisions. Though anger and sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, he knew that he could not afford to succumb to despair.
Struggling to find solace amidst the turmoil, William wrestled with his own sense of responsibility and the painful truth of his role in perpetuating the cycle of violence and suffering. Even as his soldiers moved to silence dissent, he refused to let fear dictate his actions, recognizing the injustice of punishing the innocent for the sins of their fathers.
It was not worth it.
Well, the second month had started, and he was already losing it. He stood up as he looked at the starry night and sighed.
It was going to be a long time before he was returning to Earth.
As William gazed up at the twinkling stars scattered across the night sky, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. The weight of his responsibilities bore down on him with relentless force, threatening to consume him in a maelstrom of doubt and despair.
With the second month already underway, the challenges of governance loomed larger than ever. While public order showed signs of improvement, the simmering discontent among the populace continued to escalate.
As William observed Gwen grappling with the headaches caused by the multiple rebel groups harassing the military, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. Despite the situation being relatively under control, he couldn't shake the nagging thought that he had forgotten a vital lesson—one imparted to him by his father.
The saying echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain: "Being passive was just another way to say that you had half a foot inside Hell."
The gravity of those words struck him with renewed force, reminding him of the dangers of complacency and inaction.
As the economic stabilization efforts neared fruition, William found himself at the helm of both military and diplomatic endeavors. His research team toiled tirelessly, refining the {Carbayonic Shifting Alloy} tech for [Wolves of Skatti] to integrate seamlessly into his Legion.
While the Iron Legion lacked perfect synchronization with this new addition, the sheer power of the Wolves compensated for any shortcomings.
For a time, progress surged ahead. William watched with cautious optimism as his plans unfolded, confident in the might of his forces and the resilience of his kingdom.
It was not perfect, but things were moving... until it wasn't.
When the third month hit, things turned for the worst.
"Your Majesty! The Alliance of High Athelvon envoy has arrived," the messenger's urgent voice sliced through the tension that had settled over the throne room. It was a chilling echo of a previous visit, when the envoy of the Seccessionists had made their presence known. Now, faced with the arrival of an even greater threat, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon the gathered courtiers.
The Alliance of High Athelvon was no ordinary coalition. Comprised of diverse elven factions, each wielding unique and formidable powers, they held sway over an entire system, their influence stretching far and wide like the branches of an ancient tree. Their arrival at such a precarious juncture sent ripples of apprehension through the kingdom.
Among the Alliance's ranks stood the High Elves, masters of mana manipulation whose arcane prowess was unmatched. Alongside them were the Tree Elves, known as Dryads, whose deep connection to life magic imbued them with unparalleled vitality and strength.
The Wood Elves, attuned to the primal forces of nature, wielded beast magic with a primal ferocity that struck fear into the hearts of their foes. And lastly, the Light Elves, guardians of radiant power and bearers of ancient rune magic stood ready to unleash their formidable abilities upon any who dared oppose them.
How did William know that?
William's knowledge of the Alliance of High Athelvon's capabilities stemmed from the teachings and experiences passed down through his family lineage, particularly from his great-grandfather.
As the founder and unifier of the Kawaliya System, William's great-grandfather encountered numerous challenges and adversaries in his quest for dominion.
Though William's great-grandfather harbored ambitions of further conquest beyond the Kawaliya System, he was thwarted by the formidable power of Athelvon.
While the precise reasons for his inability to overcome this obstacle remained shrouded in mystery, it was evident that Athelvon posed a significant and insurmountable challenge.
They were the only wizardry powerhouse that his grandfather had known, and William didn't want to deal with this Alliance one bit.
What the hell did this long-eared bastard want with him?
He sighed and prayed that their first meeting would not be a disaster.
He looked far, and he could feel as though something bright was coming towards him. The air inside the room meeting tightened and got hot.
Finally, he saw the fantastical Elves that were highly popular for purely academic purposes. William gulped as he saw the being in the flesh, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.
There were many of the 'long eared' kinds, but it was the woman who captivated him the most. Radiant and ethereal, she exuded an otherworldly beauty that transcended mortal understanding.
There was no doubt about it. But there was something unnerving about those eyes—no pupils, no sclera, just an endless expanse of pure, unadulterated light. They seemed to peer into William's very soul, laying bare his innermost thoughts and fears with their searing intensity.
As the woman stepped forward, her presence seemed to fill the room with an almost palpable aura of power and majesty.
They wore robes of white and gold, and their clothes seemed to radiate elegance and holiness. William noted that their robes were a mix of Egyptian and Chinese royalty clothes.
The group of fantastical creatures stopped in the middle of the room.
An ancient voice reverberated throughout the throne room.
"To sit in front of the Crown princess of the Athelvon is equal to spitting in our face. Do you wish to end your career early?" It was a well-built man who said that, and an almost invisible spiritual pressure descended upon William like a tidal wave.
William's grin strained as he was sweating buckets to form a coherent sentence. "Of course not, Your Majesty." William stood up and willingly gave up his seat.
It seemed that William's humiliation hadn't ended on Earth.
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