Chapter 5: The Weight of Power
The world around Ezekiel—no, Darius—felt both alien and familiar at once. The royal palace, with its towering marble walls and lavish gold accents, was like a dream that he couldn't escape from. He stood before a mirror, studying the face of the prince he now inhabited. Darius Lionhart: a symbol of strength and power to some, a joke to others. But that was before.
Before the blessing. Before the infinite mana. Before the chains.
Ezekiel flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar sensation of his Sovereign Chains, though they were far more advanced now. They glimmered with a supernatural aura that made him feel like the very fabric of reality bent to his will. His chains, once thought to be a weakness, now gave him a sense of invulnerability. He could feel their infinite potential, just waiting to be unleashed.
As he walked through the palace corridors, his steps were heavy, each footfall echoing with the promise of something greater. His mind raced with plans, ambitions, and the cold, calculating steps he would take to solidify his position.
But the first test was always the same: his family.
He had learned everything about Darius' life from his time in the royal library. Darius had been a tool in the eyes of the Lionhart family—an illegitimate son with little to no standing. His brothers, Elias and Asher, had tormented him, belittling him whenever they could. Even his father, King Kael, a battle-hardened SSS-ranked warrior, showed little interest in Darius, viewing him as a mere distraction.
But Ezekiel knew that power was the key to changing everything. Darius had been a prince with the potential to crush everyone beneath his heel. Now, Ezekiel was going to unlock that potential.
He made his way to the dining hall for breakfast, determined to make his presence known.
Inside, the long, polished dining table stretched across the grand room. At the head sat King Kael, his imposing figure radiating a chilling aura. His platinum blonde hair gleamed in the light, and his piercing blue eyes swept over the room with cold calculation. At the far end sat Elias, the eldest of Darius' brothers, his sharp features twisted in disdain as he glanced over at Ezekiel. Beside him sat Asher, the second son, who was similarly displeased.
But it was Darius who was the most interesting person in the room.
Ezekiel slid into the seat at the far end of the table, where Darius usually sat, a place of insignificance. The moment he did, Elias sneered.
"So, the illegitimate son decides to show his face after all," Elias said, his tone dripping with venom. "How quaint."
Ezekiel simply smiled, his face betraying nothing. "I figured it was time to join the family for breakfast," he said lightly. "You know, for old times' sake."
The others at the table exchanged awkward glances, unsure of how to respond. But Elias wasn't one to back down so easily.
"You really think you belong here, don't you?" Elias scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "A bastard with no claim to anything. You should be grateful the king even lets you eat at his table."
Asher, ever the schemer, leaned in with a smirk. "Maybe you should stay out of the way, little brother," he taunted. "Leave the royal business to those who actually matter."
Ezekiel's eyes flicked to both of them. He felt the weight of their words, but they did little to break his resolve. He was no longer Darius. He was Ezekiel, and his time was coming. He'd turn their arrogance into their downfall.
Without missing a beat, he reached for the wine bottle in front of him. The others watched as he uncorked it with a swift motion. His smile never faltered.
"You know," Ezekiel said in a calm voice, "I've been thinking. Perhaps I've been a bit too... passive. Let me make it up to you." He stood up from his chair and walked toward Elias, the wine bottle in hand.
Elias raised an eyebrow. "What is this? Are you going to beg for forgiveness like a dog, or are you actually trying to impress us?"
Ezekiel stopped in front of him and tilted his head slightly, his smile never leaving his face. "No, Elias. I'm not here to beg. I'm here to offer."
He lifted the bottle and, with a fluid motion, struck Elias over the head with it. The bottle shattered on impact, sending shards of glass flying across the table. Blood poured from Elias' head, staining his pristine clothes as he slumped forward.
For a long moment, the room was silent, the only sound the dripping of Elias' blood onto the floor. Asher jumped up in shock, eyes wide with disbelief.
"What have you done, you madman?!" Asher screamed.
Ezekiel stood over Elias, his smile still intact as he licked a drop of blood from the shattered wine bottle. The others in the room recoiled in horror.
"Such a waste of wine," Ezekiel said with a cold chuckle. "But don't worry. I'm not done."
He snapped his fingers, and one of his Sovereign Chains shot forward, wrapping around Elias' neck. The chain pulsed with mana, and the blood began to flow from Elias' wound at an alarming rate. His face twisted in pain as the life force was drained from him.
But then, with a casual flick of his wrist, Ezekiel released the chain. Elias collapsed back into his seat, unconscious, but very much alive.
"Consider this a lesson," Ezekiel said, turning away from Elias with a satisfied grin. "If you ever forget your place, you won't be so lucky next time."
The room was still. Even King Kael, usually a man of few words, was silent. His gaze never left Ezekiel, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.
"You… will regret this," Asher hissed, his voice filled with venom. But Ezekiel merely laughed.
"Oh, I think you will be the ones regretting it. Soon enough, I'll have everything you hold dear. You can count on that."
And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving his family in stunned silence.
The game had begun.