I remembered that time fighting against the Twelve-Faced King. He was a tough boss to defeat, most players needed to form squads, while only the hardcore players could solo him.
His story began when Mordras tried to kill Derion, only to be defeated almost instantly by Hailim, who pierced his heart and crushed his head in less than a second after seeing the kill attempt. Hailim's action was instinctive, but since he doesn't know how to absorb energy, Mordras managed to escape.
Losing his body in the fight, he sought the king's lifeless corpse, and that was how the Twelve-Faced King was created.
He was called the Twelve-Faced King because of his mastery in changing his emotions. He could act genuine, but it was all a facade. From the twelve higher-ups he managed to fool, he stole a valuable skill from each one of them. Thus, humans dubbed him the Twelve-Faced King.
"Hit the heart! Make sure to spam your skills in all its vital parts!" screamed my teammate.
The Twelve-Faced King wielded a massive battle axe, his undead appearance adding to the visual horror of the character. The two of us were working together to defeat this boss.
We had to severely damage his heart and head. The only way to defeat him was by draining the energy stored in his core. Continuous attacks were futile, as he healed his wounds almost instantly.
This event was during the 7th Calamity, the same year the story canon started. At that time, Derion was strong enough to face saints but not powerful enough to defeat this boss.
In the novel, Derion landed the last hit after multiple soldiers sacrificed themselves to take down the monster. In the game, we could face him head-on and ensure no casualties. But in the end, Derion always had to be the one to absorb the core to make the power his own.
Which brings us back to this moment, with the maids pointing blades at my neck and heart, and the king holding my head. I couldn't move a single inch, the slightest movement would get me killed. I trembled, feeling like I was being treated as the Twelve-Faced King.
"I-I'm not... Mordras," I muttered. Closing my eyes in fear.
"How did you know that name?" the king asked.
As I slowly opened my eyes, their hold on me lightened a bit, but they were still ready for a quick kill.
"In a game, from the Google wiki. The net forums and collected story," I answered.
After a moment, the king's gruff voice came again with another question. "Are you an enemy of the kingdom? A criminal?"
"I'm neither of those. I don't mean any harm. I just want to leave this world," I said.
With that, they lowered their weapons, and the king let go of my head. My legs turned wobbly as I tripped and was about to fall out of the open window.
Instead of landing on the ground, I found myself lying outside the window, suspended in the air on something hard that was neither hot nor cold.
I was confused. What happened? Why am I not falling?
I got up and saw I was outside, but something was blocking me.
Something invisible prevented me from falling.
A barrier?
The last thing I saw was the king leaving with a confused expression. He seemed to have a lot of questions that needed answers.
"If you want to kill yourself, feel free to do so," he said, throwing a knife on the floor before locking the door from the outside. The door knob was reversed, with the lock outside and no keyhole.
Huh? Why? What am I supposed to do with a knife?
Wait... Is he toying with me? Does he want me to force my escape from this castle, like in those death game movies? What kind of sadistic bastard is that guy?
Why am I even jumping to random conclusions? What day is it? What year?
Maybe it's the original king and not Mordras inside.
My hands were still trembling. That king really did a number on me. What was his name again? The novel and the game didn't mention his name. He was just called the Qweldom King, or simply "king" or "majesty."
The moon had already risen high. I couldn't tell if it was past midnight. I couldn't fall asleep after what had just happened. I felt like it was going to become a trauma.
I got back inside, walking toward the knife and picking it up, struggling to pull it out. It was just a normal knife, albeit fancy in the eyes of most because of the exaggerated design.
"Fulgur," I whispered, and no matter how many times I said it, nothing happened.
Where is he? How long does he plan on making me stay in this dangerous world? He said I could leave, that the choice was mine. I said I wanted to leave. So why am I still here?
I just stared at the moon, letting the night pass as I waited for tomorrow.
In the king's office, his face was more confused than ever. Grabbing a book, he listed the strange words he had heard "Google," "wiki," and "net forums." What were these?
This was the first time he had heard such strange names. What were they, anyway? Names of objects? Living beings? He knows of wikipedia. Maybe its just a shortened version of wiki. But how would she know about mordress in those books?
He wanted to ask more. All of her words were true, no lies were mixed in, as the stone didn't react.
And what did she mean by "collected story?" Story of what?
He decided he would ask her again tomorrow when she had calmed down a bit. Knowing she wasn't an enemy, he felt bad for pressing the girl too much and intimidating her.
She was trembling in fear, and it was already night. There was always tomorrow. It wasn't like she could escape the room with a barrier coating every corner.
"Maybe I overdid it," he muttered, closing his book.
How did she even know Mordras?
Mordras was a notorious killer, a necromancer, and a master of dark arts. He would stop at nothing to complete his goals. He had been quiet for 20 years, but hearing his name from that child shook the king's world. It was like a warning of approaching danger.
"Gashdall," he called out. A moment later, a butler entered the room, blinded in both eyes with a scar running around his neck.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said with a professional demeanor, just as one would expect from a butler.
"Get me Knight Evan. Tomorrow noon, bring him to my office."
The butler nodded and walked out of the door.
The king thought it was just the Guardian organization and the corrupt officials he had to look out for. Now, he prayed that Mordras wouldn't add to his problems.
It was a headache just thinking about what would happen if Mordras joined the chaos currently engulfing Qweldom.
He didn't know who to trust. The ones he trusted most could be counted on one hand.
As he thought about the future of Qweldom, a dragon flew by, dropping something in the garden. The box that was dropped slowly descended, feather-weight magic cast on it.
Opening the crate revealed a set of armor. A letter was placed on the side, reading, "The Milarite armor is done, Your Majesty."
The king tested the heavy armor, grabbing a part of it. The metal wouldn't budge. He grabbed a knife and tried stabbing it, but the knife bounced away, showing no damage.
This time, he added magic and did the same, with the same result.
"I'm impressed," he said. His attack could cut an entire castle in half, yet this armor withstood every physical beating it received.
Looking up, he saw the child staring at the moon. On closer inspection, she looked about ten or eleven, cute if he had to say.
But nonetheless, he would still cut her down if she were an enemy.
Seeing some patrolling guards in the distance, he called them over and asked them to carry the equipment to storage.
He then took a stroll in the middle of the night, heading toward three graves.
He paid his respects and prayed before returning to the castle.