Elias Carter knew what it meant to be invisible.

In the grand machinery of the world, he was nothing more than a discarded gear—a man easily forgotten, a presence barely registered. It had always been this way, for as long as he could remember.

He had been born small and frail, a sickly child who spent more time in hospitals than on playgrounds. Asthma, weak joints, chronic fatigue—his body had betrayed him before he even had a chance. While other children played sports, he sat on the sidelines, wheezing. While they climbed, ran, and tumbled through the wilds of childhood, Elias learned to keep still, to take up as little space as possible.

That habit had followed him into adulthood.

Now, at twenty-eight, he was just another nameless face in a sea of overworked employees, trapped in a gray-walled office that smelled of stale coffee and printer ink. Carter & Finch Architectural Firm was a prestigious name, but Elias? He was just a low-tier architect, a glorified draftsman whose ideas were ignored in meetings, whose contributions were always overlooked—unless, of course, something went wrong.

Which was often.

Because Elias was the easiest target.

"If something breaks, blame Carter. If a project falls behind, dump the workload on Carter. If you need coffee, Carter."

Today was no different.

Jacob Pierce, the office's golden boy, strode toward Elias's desk with the effortless arrogance of a man who had never been told 'no' in his life. His shirt was crisp, his tie perfectly knotted—a man who had never known failure, yet thrived on making others feel small.

With a loud thud, he dropped a stack of blueprints onto Elias's desk.

Jacob: (mocking, condescending) "Carter, be a team player and finish these by noon, will you? I've got an important lunch meeting."

Elias didn't look up. He knew better than to argue.

Elias: (flatly) "These aren't mine."

Jacob smirked.

Jacob: (grinning, faux-apologetic) "Oh, I know. But you're the fastest with revisions, right? And hey—wouldn't want the boss to think you're not pulling your weight after your little disappearing act last week."

The implication was clear. Elias had been gone for days. No explanations, no excuses. And in this world, that kind of absence was dangerous.

Elias wanted to fight back. He wanted to say something sharp, something that would carve through Jacob's smirk like a blade.

But he didn't.

Because Elias knew the truth—Jacob would always win.

So, instead, he lowered his gaze and took the files.

Jacob grinned, clapping him on the back.

Jacob: (mocking whisper) "Attaboy."

Then, just like that, he walked away, leaving Elias alone with the crushing weight of yet another task he would never be credited for.

It should have angered him.

It should have made his blood boil.

But it didn't.

Because deep down, Elias Carter had always known this was his fate.

The Walk Home

By the time Elias left the office, the sky had turned a dusky shade of violet, the streets buzzing with the usual rhythm of the city. The world moved around him, cars flashing past, pedestrians caught in their own endless loops of existence.

But Elias walked alone.

He always did.

His apartment was a small, unremarkable space on the fourth floor of an aging building. Sparse furniture. Unfinished projects. A bookshelf filled with titles on ancient civilizations, architecture, and mythology.

Books were his only companions.

They always had been.

He collapsed onto his couch, rubbing his temples. The headache had returned—the same one that had haunted him for weeks.

At first, it had been a dull ache. Then, the dreams started.

Visions of golden halls, of towering ziggurats, of a kingdom lost to time. He saw warriors bowing before him, their faces shadowed. He saw blood staining the sands, the cries of the dying ringing in his ears.

And above it all, he saw himself.

Not as Elias Carter.

But as something more.

A king. A god. A conqueror.

And the worst part?

It didn't feel strange.

It felt right.

Elias exhaled, gripping the armrest of his couch.

There was something inside him. Something buried, something ancient.

And lately, it had been stirring.

"You are more than this."

The thought came unbidden, slithering into his mind like a whisper in the dark.

"You were never meant to be weak."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

No. That was dangerous thinking.

Because sometimes—when he thought about the people who stepped on him, the ones who mocked him, used him, discarded him—he felt something else stirring beneath the surface.

Something twisted.

A hunger.

A dark, coiling thing that whispered:

"What would they do if they knew who you really were?"

A shudder ran through him.

He opened his eyes, heart hammering.

The room was silent.

The feeling passed.

And yet…

The whisper never truly left.

Fate Turns

Elias had no idea that within twenty-four hours, his life would change forever.

That the timid, overlooked man the world had dismissed would soon become the most dangerous being to walk the earth.

That buried beneath his quiet, unremarkable existence…

A king was waiting to rise.

And when he did—the world would never be the same.