An overwhelming, endless void surrounded Alexander, stretching in all directions. There was no up, no down—just emptiness. A silence so vast that it pressed against him like an invisible weight.
The last thing he remembered was the cold steel of the executioner's axe gleaming under the sun. There was no pain, no sensation—just the abrupt loss of everything.
Now he was here.
His body felt weightless, almost nonexistent, yet he was aware of himself. He moved—or at least, he thought he did—but there was no surface to stand on, no wind against his skin, no breath leaving his lips.
"Is this death?" he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.
His words carried through the nothingness, swallowed by the void without an echo.
He tried to move again. His limbs responded, but the space around him remained unchanged. There was nothing to touch, nothing to grasp, nothing to ground him in reality. It was as if he was trapped in an empty dream with no beginning and no end.
"Or is this some kind of punishment?"
He had been called a traitor, a murderer, a disgrace to the empire. Was this his fate? To drift forever in a space of nothingness, forgotten by time?
Doubt, anger, and confusion swirled in his mind, but before he could dwell further on his thoughts—
A faint glow appeared in the distance.
At first, it was barely noticeable, a flickering ember against the darkness. But as he turned towards it, the light expanded, twisting and shifting, as if something was trying to take shape.
Then, suddenly, the void cracked open like shattered glass.
A scene unfolded before him.
It was a grand hall, dimly lit by golden candlelight.
Alexander's eyes widened. He recognized this place—it was the estate of Duke Eldric, one of the most influential noble houses of the empire.
In the center of the room, two figures stood close together, speaking in hushed voices.
One was Duke Eldric himself—a tall, lean man draped in a robe of deep blue embroidered with golden vines. His expression was calm, composed, yet there was something cold in his eyes, something calculated.
Standing opposite him was Harland—a servant of House Valtor.
Alexander's breath caught in his throat.
Harland. The very man who had stood in court and testified against him, swearing that Alexander had poisoned his own parents.
The memory of his execution flickered through his mind, the sound of the crowd's jeers still fresh in his ears. He clenched his fists.
Harland bowed slightly. "The poison is already working, my lord. The former Duke and Duchess of House Valtor have been ingesting it for months now."
Eldric leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. "And there have been no suspicions?"
Harland shook his head. "None, my lord. The symptoms are subtle—fatigue, weakness, dizziness. Even the young Duke Alexander believes it is a simple illness."
A smirk tugged at Eldric's lips. "Good. We cannot afford mistakes."
Harland hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "But my lord… there are still those in the empire who support Alexander. His victories on the battlefield have earned him admiration, even from some within the emperor's circle."
Eldric chuckled. "That is why we will make sure he is seen as the true criminal. Once Alistair and Evelynn are dead, Alexander will inherit the title of Duke. That is when we will move against him."
Harland's expression darkened. "Are you certain we can turn the people against him?"
"Love is fickle," Eldric replied. "Give them a villain, and they will condemn him without question. You will testify that you saw Alexander tampering with his parents' food. The emperor will take care of the rest."
Alexander felt as if ice had been poured into his veins.
So this was it.
His parents had not fallen ill. They had been murdered.
And his downfall had been carefully orchestrated from the very beginning.
The image flickered, the candlelit hall growing darker. The figures of Eldric and Harland blurred, their voices fading into silence.
Then—
The darkness swallowed everything again.
Alexander stood there, his breathing uneven.
His chest felt tight, as if he had been struck by an unseen force. He had spent his last moments alive cursing his own fate, believing himself a victim of false accusations. But now he knew—he had been a target from the start.
His execution had not been justice.
It had been elimination.
His hands trembled. Anger surged through him like a raging storm, but there was nowhere to release it. He was alone, floating in an abyss with no end.
He didn't know how much time passed. Minutes? Hours? There was no way to tell.
Then—
A new vision began to form.
This time, he found himself in a familiar place.
His father's study.
Alexander's heart clenched.
Duke Alistair stood behind his desk, his posture stiff, his expression unreadable. Across from him sat Duchess Evelynn, her sharp eyes focused intently on him.
The air in the room was heavy.
Alexander took a step closer. His father's voice was low, but clear.
"Aurelian is unfit to rule. If we allow him to remain on the throne, the empire will fall into ruin."
Evelynn nodded in agreement. "Alexander has achieved more on the battlefield than any noble-born general in history. His influence rivals that of the emperor himself."
There was a long pause before Alistair spoke again.
"Then we will take the throne."
Alexander's breath hitched.
His father continued. "We will not act recklessly. The nobles will not accept change so easily. If we are to succeed, we must eliminate all threats before making our move."
His mother nodded, her expression cold. "Loose ends cannot be allowed."
At that moment, the door creaked open, and a young maid hesitantly stepped inside.
She held a silver tray with a porcelain teapot, her hands trembling slightly. "My lord, my lady… I apologize for the interruption."
Alistair's eyes darkened. "How much did you hear?"
The maid's face paled. "N-Nothing, my lord. I swear—"
Before she could finish, Evelynn swiftly pulled a dagger from her sleeve.
The blade sliced through the air, slashing across the maid's throat.
A strangled gasp escaped the girl's lips as she collapsed, blood pooling around her lifeless body.
Alexander's stomach twisted.
His mother knelt down, wiping the blade clean with a silk cloth. "No loose ends," she murmured.
His father remained silent, staring at the body before letting out a slow sigh. "We will move forward as planned. Once Alexander returns, we will begin preparations."
The scene before him blurred.
Darkness returned.
Alexander stood frozen in place.
His parents—his own parents—had been planning treason.
They had intended to overthrow the emperor.
Had the emperor known? Had he merely struck first?
Everything he believed in, everything he had fought for—it was all a lie.
The empire had betrayed him.
His parents had used him.
And he… he had been nothing more than a pawn in a game far greater than he had ever imagined.
The silence of the void stretched endlessly.
There was nothing. No sound, no movement, only the weight of his thoughts pressing against him.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. He no longer knew.
Then—
A light appeared again.