Realm Lord
Chapter 125: A Kings Decision

Chapter 125: A Kings Decision

The familiar sensation of the king’s eyelids closing and opening once more brought Arthur to yet another scene, this one more ominous than any he had witnessed so far. When the king’s vision cleared, Arthur found himself standing on a grand stone balcony that jutted out from the highest tower of the royal castle. The balcony was crafted from the same pristine white marble as the throne room, with ornate railings carved into intricate patterns that spoke of master craftsmanship. Decorative banners bearing the royal crest fluttered in the wind, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the scene that lay beyond the castle walls.

From this vantage point, the king could see the entire expanse of his kingdom spread out below him like a living map. The city stretched in all directions, a maze of cobblestone streets lined with houses, shops, and markets.

But it was not his kingdom that held the king’s attention now. Arthur could feel the grim tension radiating through the monarch’s body as he stared out at the scene unfolding beyond the city’s fortified walls. The king’s hands gripped the marble railing with such force that his knuckles had turned white, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that Arthur could feel the ache in the muscles.

’The void creatures.’

Arthur’s understanding came with a shock of recognition and horror. Beyond the walls of the city, reality itself seemed to be tearing apart like fabric. A massive gate had opened in the very air, its edges crackling with dark energy that made the surrounding landscape appear to shimmer and distort. The portal was enormous, easily the size of a cathedral, and from its yawning depths poured forth an army that defied description.

Hundreds upon hundreds of void creatures emerged from the gate in an endless stream of nightmare. They came in all shapes and sizes—some resembled twisted versions of familiar animals, while others were geometric impossibilities that hurt to look at directly. Some crawled on multiple legs like spiders made of shadow, while others flew on wings that seemed to be made of pure darkness. What united them all was their wrongness, their fundamental opposition to the natural order of the world.

To meet this otherworldly threat, the king’s army had assembled on the field between the city walls and the void gate. From the balcony, they looked like toy soldiers arranged for battle, their colorful banners and polished armor gleaming in the sunlight. Arthur could see the neat formations of infantry, the cavalry positioned on the flanks, and the archers lined up behind protective barriers. It should have been an impressive sight—the full military might of a prosperous kingdom arrayed for battle.

But Arthur understood with growing dread why the king’s expression was so grim.

The king let out a deep, shuddering sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his entire kingdom’s fate. His hand moved almost unconsciously to rest on the ornate handle of his sheathed blade. For a moment, the king stood there in silence, watching his soldiers prepare to face an enemy they could not possibly defeat.

Then he blinked again.

When the king’s eyes opened, the perspective had shifted dramatically. No longer was Arthur observing the battle from the safety and distance of the castle balcony. Instead, he found himself in the very heart of the conflict, surrounded by the sounds of clashing metal, screaming soldiers, and the otherworldly shrieks of void creatures.

The king’s sword was in his hand now, its blade singing through the air as he swung it with desperate force. The weapon was a masterwork of craftsmanship, its steel polished to a mirror shine and etched with runes that seemed to glow faintly in the chaos of battle. With each swing, the king fought with the skill and determination of a true warrior-king, his movements precise and deadly despite the desperation that drove them.

Around him, his army fought with equal desperation. Arthur could see soldiers in gleaming chainmail and plate armor, their faces set with grim determination as they faced enemies that shouldn’t exist. Swords clashed against claws of shadow, spears thrust at creatures that seemed to phase in and out of reality, and arrows flew toward targets that defied the laws of physics.

But Arthur understood the horrible truth that the king was beginning to realize.

’Normal weapons don’t work on void creatures, and none of these people are chosen, so they have no protection from corruption. They’re all going to die one way or another. It’s hopeless.’

The truth was a tough pill, Chosen possessed a natural resistance to the corrupting influence of the void. Where normal people might become corrupted simply by being in the presence of void creatures, or from a wound, or from breathing corrupted air, or from any of a million other vectors of infection, it took a more direct approach for a chosen to succumb to corruption.

For example, eating corrupted roses, breathing in corrupted smoke, allowing wounds to be directly exposed to corrupted substances—these were the kinds of intense, deliberate contact required to corrupt a chosen individual. But for normal people, like the soldiers fighting desperately around the king, simply being on the same battlefield as void creatures was often enough to begin the slow, inevitable process of corruption.

This army, brave and well-trained as they might be, had no such protection. Their fighting, no matter how heroic or determined, was ultimately futile.

Arthur watched through the king’s eyes as the terrible truth of this reality began to unfold. Soldiers who had been fighting valiantly moments before began to stumble and fall, not from physical wounds but from the creeping corruption that was spreading through their ranks like a plague. Some began to cough up black substance, while others developed dark veins that spread across their skin like sinister spider webs.

Eventually, the king blinked again, and when his vision cleared, he was no longer in the thick of battle. Instead, Arthur found himself experiencing the king’s desperate retreat through the winding streets of the city. The monarch was running with the frantic urgency of a man who knew that every second counted, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed his body to its limits.

Behind him, Arthur could hear the sounds of his army being systematically destroyed. The clash of weapons had given way to screams of pain and terror, punctuated by the inhuman sounds of void creatures claiming their victims. The king’s shoulders shook with each distant cry, but he forced himself to keep running toward the castle that represented his last hope of protecting what remained of his family and kingdom.

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