Chapter 2: The Birth of a Monster
The moment the door to the dining hall closed behind him, Ezekiel — now fully in the body of Darius Lionhart — could feel the weight of the situation settle in. The atmosphere was tense. His father, King Alaric, had acknowledged him, but that was as far as any semblance of respect would go. His brothers, Elias and Asher, were already scheming behind their masks of disdain, their eyes flickering between contempt and curiosity. They could feel the change. But they didn't know the full extent of it yet.
Ezekiel's fingers twitched, his chains responding almost instinctively. They were stronger now, infused with something far beyond what they had been in the novel. His body thrummed with power, and it took everything in him not to lash out, to remind everyone in the room that they had no idea who they were dealing with.
His eyes flicked from Elias to Asher, the brothers who had poisoned Darius. Both had their arrogant, self-satisfied smirks plastered across their faces. Elias, the eldest, was a master of charm, with a silver tongue that could wrap anyone around his finger. Asher, the second son, was more physically imposing — tall, broad-shouldered, with a fierce and intimidating aura. But neither of them were strong enough to stand against the force of nature that Ezekiel had become.
Ezekiel could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface. They had tried to kill him — to kill Darius. It hadn't worked. It wouldn't work. Not anymore.
He couldn't help but laugh softly to himself, the sound strange and unsettling to his own ears. It was different than the laugh of the former Ezekiel, the man who had wasted his life in self-destructive habits. This laugh was dark, malicious — filled with an almost perverse sense of satisfaction. Darius was alive, and now, Darius was a weapon. And that weapon would be pointed at anyone who dared to stand in his way.
The soft clink of silverware against plates echoed in the otherwise quiet room. No one dared speak first. King Alaric's gaze remained fixed on him, calculating. Silent. He wasn't surprised by Darius's sudden change in demeanor — in fact, it almost seemed like the king was waiting for something.
But before the tension could stretch any further, Elias leaned forward, breaking the silence with a voice dripping with mockery.
"Well, well, the prodigal prince finally returns," Elias sneered. "I hope you aren't thinking of causing trouble, little brother. After all, you've never been much of a threat."
Ezekiel's smile widened. His chains shivered, responding to the surge of emotion inside him. He could feel the raw power flowing through his veins, and it was intoxicating. He stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the stone floor as his cold grey eyes met Elias's icy blue ones.
Elias, sensing something different in the air, straightened slightly, his smirk faltering. But he didn't back down. "Oh? What's this? The weak Darius has found his spine?"
"You always did love to play the part of the perfect prince, didn't you, Elias?" Ezekiel said, his voice smooth and laced with venom. "But that's exactly what you are. A part. A role that everyone around you can play along with — and I see you've done quite well with it."
Elias's eyes narrowed, but he held his ground. "And what's your point, Darius? You're still nothing. A slave-born bastard."
"Am I?" Ezekiel's grin widened, his eyes flickering with something dangerous. His chains suddenly snapped into action, coiling around his wrists, the black metal shimmering in the light. "I've been given a gift, Elias. A gift far more potent than anything you can imagine."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as a wave of mana surged through the air, suffocating in its intensity. Everyone, even King Alaric, felt the pressure in their chests, as if the weight of the mana could crush them at any moment.
"You want to know what I am now?" Ezekiel continued, his voice soft but carrying a weight of finality. "I'm the thing that will crush your little kingdom and all of your ambitions. You want to play your games of power, Elias? Let's see how far you get when I decide to rewrite the rules."
Elias opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat. The subtle threat hanging in the air made it clear — Ezekiel wasn't just threatening to disrupt his plans. He was warning him of a much worse fate.
"Enough," King Alaric's voice cut through the tension like a blade. His gaze was sharp, like a hawk surveying its prey. "Darius, I've tolerated your childish antics for far too long. Do not test me. You will not be spared the consequences."
Ezekiel chuckled darkly, his chains retracting as he sat back down. "I'm not a child anymore, Father. You'll see soon enough."
There was an awkward silence as the king's gaze lingered on him, unreadable. Asher, ever the soldier, said nothing, but Ezekiel could see the doubt in his eyes. The second prince was calculating, trying to figure out whether this was just an act or something much more dangerous.
And that was the problem. None of them understood what they were dealing with.
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Later that day, Ezekiel found himself alone in the palace courtyard, his thoughts swirling. His new body, Darius, was far stronger than he had anticipated. He had expected something closer to the fragile figure in the novel, someone who had been poisoned to death by his brothers. But this Darius, this version of him, was nothing like that.
He flexed his hands, feeling the surge of mana that coursed through him, limitless and ready to be used. His chains were an extension of his will, an unbreakable part of him. They could bind, drain, and destroy — but they could also heal, reshape reality. In a world where magic was the key to everything, Ezekiel was no longer just a pawn. He was a king in waiting.
But with that power came a choice. The weight of his decision pressed heavily on him. Should he play the part of the loyal son, the obedient prince? Should he fall in line and become the man Darius had once been — a side character in his own life? Or should he seize control, take the throne, and become something far greater than anyone could have imagined?
In that moment, he knew. He would not be the villain in this story. He would be the monster. The king. The conqueror. The one who would burn everything to the ground and rise from the ashes.
As he stood in the fading light of the courtyard, a twisted smile spread across his face. The game had only just begun.