Lewd King's Bucket List-Chapter 71: Inevitability
Ixion’s soul snapped back to his body, and a throbbing onslaught attacked his mind.
"Ow..."
The Soul Sickness was bad; though thankfully not nearly as bad as when he’d used [Noble].
His numbness in his hands slowly subsided. Ixion began rubbing his head as his blurry vision slowly focused. His eyelids felt heavy.
’I guess I’ll be meeting those three in my real body quite soon.’
After a few more minutes of nursing the headache, Ixion made his way to his desk and looked over No Regrets.
Sadly, he had no current task he wished to complete at the moment, so all he could do was wait.
Wait for the challenges to start coming in.
***
’How audacious those inauspicious, raucous ignoramuses are!’
After one day since his announcement, a single challenge for a duel had come. Then, three the following day. Three days later, ninety-four came at once, all requesting the same date.
The plot was so forthright and bold that Ixion just had to give them their chops. They knew none would be able to beat Ixion one on one, so they sought victory by weakening him little by little.
Knowing their madman of a king wouldn’t turn down or delay a challenge, they’d be able to send nearly a hundred people at him in a row. With at least eighty people seeking only to wear him down.
’Too bad quantity doesn’t matter...’
The entire kingdom could point their blades at Ixion tomorrow, and it would all be for naught lest Hope or Despair got involved.
Something neither would do.
However, this plan of ’probably’ Marlowe’s served Ixion’s ultimate motive.
Most of his achievements on the battlefield were nominal to the wider populace. Very few people had been strong enough to survive alongside Ixion on the front lines and return to tell stories. With most eyewitness accounts dead or fled, the people only knew his strength in tales.
It was time he started the self-effacement of his strength.
He would not lose a duel. Nor would he pretend most were close, lest it become obvious he was feigning it; however...
’Reina, dear dissident. How would you like to land quite a glorious blow on me?!’
Maybe it will only amount to a scratch, but not only was Reina making her existence known, but also for the heir of Artois to draw the king’s blood...
It would be the final piece in the kick start of Marlowe and the Oathsworn’s rebellion.
’Their rebellion will turn from a flickering dream to a marching reality.’
Of course, as with most dreams, it would one day fade. Ixion would wake them up to the nightmarish reality.
Well, there was also another reason...
’I pray they don’t call Hope here!’
If they felt they could overthrow Ixion without Hope, then they wouldn’t go to drastic measures to call upon him!
He was being a little hypocritical on that front having spread Hope’s name and even formed it into a word wishing for his return...
’But, still! That fucker is scary!’
Well, Ixion knew the future — at least according to what the Wanderer of Fate showed him — so he knew Hope wouldn’t return. But, again, having learned what he had about Despair’s bastard, how much stake would he put in Sloth’s word?
Ixion sighed and leaned back on the gazebo’s bench. With nothing to do, he’d come to the rear garden to take in the last breath of beauty in a dying world.
The sweet smell of roses tickled his nose.
’I guess I should perfect Soul Shatter soon.’
He already had an advanced understanding of his Trait; however, his next evolution and final one would be learning how to shatter a soul without killing the victim. So, less shattering, more splitting. As well as how to tie souls together.
Though such tasks were easier said than done. It was also imperative he learn as soon as possible — he had quite the tight timeframe, after all.
He had his damnable task on the very night before he would leave Catatran. The night Ixion feared would turn his false insanity into true lunacy.
Ixion let out a weary sigh, his mind dwelling on the grim nature of that destined day.
After that day, there would be no turning back. The beginning of the end will have begun in earnest.
Kaldora’s hope would shatter.
The tips of blades would find the hearts of their own while the claws of beasts tear at their backs.
’How poetic...’
From the gazebo, Ixion’s eyes swept across the magnificent garden, appreciating the tranquil atmosphere and blooming flora.
’Such ephemeral beauty.’
Ixion hated flowers.
He admired their loveliness, yet the inevitable decay of that beauty always stirred a deep revulsion in him.
But now...
With his path already laid out before him, he considered that true beauty might lie not in growth, but in decay.
The chance of losing beauty defined beauty.
Or maybe not the chance.
’Inevitability...’
The inescapable truth that it was destined to wither.
The surrounding garden would wither and die, either to the Scourge’s plague or the vacancy of the palace owners.
Ixion thought back to the Chrys Commonwealth ambassadors.
’What was it that the Owl Queen said?’
Quartz of the Crystal Owl tribe, the woman with beautiful eyes, someone would brutally gouge them out one day, along with her lungs.
’Meaning still arises with how one lives in inevitability.’
Ixion had thought he’d understood her before, but now it was clear.
Queen Quartz, living with their borders nearly touching the Scourge, knew better than anyone how dire the front lines were.
She knew damn well it was a lost cause, yet she sought aid anyway.
’How profound.’
To know something will be destroyed — will be lost.
Absolutely nothing you can do about it.
’And to still put your heart into it.’
To not only accept the truth of loss, but to defy it at the same time. To cherish something as it decays.
"How... beautiful."
Was that love?
