Each day, I've noticed something peculiar: the mist in my head seems to correlate with my age. Every day, it fades a little more. At birth, a baby's brain is only about a quarter the size of an adult's, but it doubles in the first year. If that's the case, then perhaps my infant brain couldn't handle the cognitive power and memory of my adult mind. It's as if there is some mysterious force. Magic, perhaps it is balancing my brain's capacity. I suspect that's what the mountain-sized statue lady blessed me with: the gradual restoration of my memory.
As a scientist, I'm reluctant to label this phenomenon as "magic," but for now, it's my version of dark matter, something I can't fully understand yet must acknowledge.
Tonight, I'm in my mother's room. Every night, she reads from the book the religious man gave us. But tonight, I managed to get my way by throwing a tantrum and crying with all my might.
"Oh geez, Ales. You're just like your father," she said, finally giving in and placing my head in front of the book. As she pointed to each word, I knew this was my chance to quickly learn the scriptures of this world.
She gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she began to read the title: "King of Kings." A strange sensation stirred within me, as if the story resonated with something deep inside.
The tale was of a king that lived 500 years ago. Whose conquests reverberated like thunder across continents. His dominion was an unassailable force, embracing all existence. He was universally hailed as the King of Kings, a master weaver of fate, and the ruler of the world. From the scorching dunes of the Southern Expanse to the icy heart of the Northern Abyss, his reach knew no bounds.
He reshaped the boundaries of the known world.
His name was written into the fabric of history itself.
He was King Julius the Great.
He once proclaimed:
"As I sit atop a throne forged from the ruins of shattered dreams, I revel in the intoxicating elixir of ultimate power coursing through my veins. The world cowers beneath my gaze, its feeble attempts to resist me mere echoes in the abyss of my supremacy. I am the master of destinies, the puppeteer of fates, and the harbinger of all-consuming darkness. No mortal dares to challenge me, for they know their defiance is but a fleeting spark in the tempest of my eternal night. Behold, as I eclipse even the sun, casting a shadow that swallows hope itself, leaving naught but the haunting whispers of their shattered souls in my wake."
Yet, in all his unparalleled might, he eventually succumbed to the wrath of vengeful gods. They cursed him, offering their very existence in exchange for his. Thus, there were No Longer Gods, and No Longer King Julius. With no heirs to inherit his throne, his legacy crumbled into dust. A saga of power ended in a lament of emptiness, and his once-mighty nation was scattered into pieces.
As my mother finished reading, I felt a strange mixture of awe and unease. The story of King Julius was captivating, filled with power, ambition, and a cautionary tale that struck a chord deep within me. But then, out of nowhere, my mother casually dropped a bombshell.
She smiled and said, "Did you know that King Julius had a son with a concubine? They were hunted down, so they hid in the Ura forest." She giggled softly, "Ales, your ancestor is King Julius the Great."
For a moment, I thought she was joking. "Pfft, nice story though," I mused, trying to dismiss it as a tale meant to entertain.
But then, Thorus barged in, his expression serious. "Are you done giving away our family secrets?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
My mother shrugged with a playful grin, "It's for his better vocabulary, besides, he won't even remember." Thorus leaned in to give her a kiss, then added with a hint of caution, "Oh really? What if someone else hears it?"
I sat there, shocked and motionless, my mind struggling to process what I had just heard. "What?!? It's not just a storybook?" The weight of the revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. "WHat?!? There were gods in this world?"
My eyes bulged, my mouth hung open as I drooled slightly, overwhelmed by the sheer insanity of it all. "This world is insane," I thought, trying to wrap my mind around the reality that was beginning to unfold before me.