Beyond the Boundaries

Vargas scrutinized Ryan's face; the look in his eyes was like penetrating the layers of the soul, searching for a silent answer in the depths of the king. This was not merely the execution of a royal order; it was a test of the new ruler's essence. After a moment of silence fraught with respect and hesitation, Vargas answered in a deep and steady voice:

"Yes, my lord."

At that same moment, a fiery sword ignited out of nowhere in Vargas's hand. The flame was real but seemed alive, dancing and writhing, reflecting on the walls in hues of red and orange, like a tattoo from hell itself.

Fai, lying on the floor, watched the scene with terrified eyes. He began to plead in a desperate tone, his voice filled with fear and doubt:

"What do you mean by execution? I am the Prime Minister! I am the symbol of the kingdom! I demand a fair trial!"

But Vargas did not stop. His steps were as steady as the rhythm of death itself. He raised his sword high, charged with the pent-up energy of rage, and prepared to end the life of the man who had abused his power and corrupted the kingdom.

A calm voice, filled with confidence and authority, stopped him:

"Wait!"

Everyone turned towards the young king. Vargas froze in place, his eyes fixed on Ryan. For a moment, Fai felt like a survivor, a cunning smile creeping onto his face. He thought the tables had turned in his favor, and his mind began to plot his escape.

But Ryan's next words shattered his hopes:

"Lock him up. I want him executed in front of the public after this ordeal is over."

The smile on Fai's face shattered like a fragile mirror, and his eyes turned into a dark void. His limbs gave way, and he collapsed unconscious, unable to comprehend the catastrophe that had befallen him.

Vargas ordered firmly:

"Take him to the prison immediately. Assign guards to watch him day and night. I don't want any mistakes."

The guards lifted Fai's limp body and left quickly. As he disappeared, all attention turned to the king, who stood calm, his eyes shining with a determination that no one had ever seen in him before.

Vargas spoke in a professional tone, as though testing the king's resolve:

"Sire, the enemies are still besieging the castle. Our forces are weakening. We must act quickly."

Ryan nodded lightly, then turned to his entourage and ordered the guards:

"Take me back to my room. I need time to think."

Inside his quiet chamber, Ryan sat on his large, silk-embellished bed, taking a deep breath and trying to organize his thoughts. The silence was so profound he could hear his own heartbeat.

"This isn't my world..." he muttered in a low voice, as if testing the impact of the words on his ears.

Ryan began to relive what he had learned so far. Through the memories of the body he now possessed, he understood that the original Ryan was a broken young man, his spirit crushed after the death of his father. Grief had consumed him completely, causing him to withdraw from everyone and allow the kingdom to gradually fall into the hands of the greedy Prime Minister.

"What a weak king..." Ryan said to himself, though he felt pity for him.

Despite this, he now bore the burden of this legacy. The memories of the original king were hazy, but they provided him with basic knowledge: language, certain customs, and even glimpses of his personal relationships.

Ryan looked at his reflection in the mirror, as if searching for evidence of his new identity.

"It's fortunate this king was reclusive; no one will easily notice the change."

Then he remembered Vargas's words:

"Enemies surround the castle... The soldiers are collapsing..."

He got up nervously, pacing the room like a cornered tiger. His thoughts raced, cold sweat sliding down his forehead.

"Could I end up a slave after becoming a king?"

But amidst the chaos in his mind, a new feeling pulsed within him.

"If I have to live in this world... I'll fight. I will become a true king."