VOID HEIR: A PRINCE RECKONING

 After what seemed like an eternity, the carriage finally creaked to a halt, its wheels groaning in protest. Arthur's eyes snapped open, his mind racing with a mix of relief and wariness. He had felt a strong composure to sleep, the escape from the dungeon enough to let his brain drop its guard and plan to shut off, but Arthur wasn't going to give in to it. He forced himself to stay awake, his senses on high alert, until the abrupt stop of the carriage.

The unknown man slowly disembarked from the horse, his movements fluid and graceful. He walked towards the place where Arthur was hidden, his boots crunching on the gravel beneath his feet. With a detached air, he removed the cover from Arthur, his eyes gazing past him without interest. "Time to get out," he said, his voice neutral.

Arthur complied, his muscles stiff from the long confinement. He stretched his arms and legs, his joints cracking in protest. The unknown man offered him a hand, pulling him up with a firm grip, but without any hint of warmth or concern. Arthur's eyes met his, but the man's gaze was blank, unresponsive.

The unknown man walked away from Arthur, slowly and unhurriedly, his pace deliberate and measured. Arthur followed closely, his guard still at an all-time high, his senses scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. But the man seemed utterly disinterested in Arthur's actions, his eyes fixed on some point ahead, his expression unreadable.

As they walked, the darkness began to dissipate, the moon casting an eerie glow over the landscape. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, the only sound the soft rustling of bushes beneath their feet.

The unknown man stopped suddenly, his eyes fixed on a spot ahead. Arthur followed his gaze, but saw nothing. The man didn't move or speak, simply stood there, his presence almost robotic in its detachment. Arthur's mind raced with questions, but the man's silence was impenetrable.

After a few moments, the unknown man turned and walked towards a nearby fire, its flames casting a warm glow over the clearing. He sat down, his movements mechanical, and began to prepare a meal. Arthur's stomach growled, his hunger pangs sharp and insistent. The man handed him a portion of food, his eyes still fixed on some point ahead, his expression unreadable. Arthur took the food, his eyes locked on the man's face, searching for any sign of emotion or interest. But the man's gaze remained blank, his face a mask of indifference.

Arthur began to eat, his manners impeccable despite his hunger. He chewed slowly, savoring each bite, but his gluttony soon took over. He devoured the food with a reckless abandon, his plate emptying quickly. Yet, despite his gluttony, he retained his prince-like demeanor, his table manners never faltering. The unknown man didn't seem to notice, his gaze fixed on some point beyond Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his mind racing with questions. Who was this man? Why had he rescued Arthur from the dungeon? And what did he want in return?

"Who are you? Why are you trying to help me? What's your aim?" Arthur asked suspiciously, his guard at its peak, his eyes narrowing like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. The unknown man stared at Arthur, obviously aware of the suspicion evident on Arthur's face, his piercing gaze unwavering.

"It's good to be suspicious of everyone; you will need it to live in this cruel world," the unknown man said, his voice low and soothing, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. "But try not to chase genuine people away because of it. You will need your own strength to achieve your aims, but you won't go too far without the help of comrades who are willing to die for you, believe in your ideals, and follow them through with you until those ideals become complete," he lectured, his words dripping with wisdom, not even bothering to introduce himself. "If you're done, go to sleep; we will continue our journey by dawn," he said before resting by the side of the carriage, his movements graceful and fluid. Arthur was unaware if the unknown man had slept or not, but he shrugged his shoulders and allowed the restrained sleep to rush over him like an opened dam, and soon he drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with visions of a world he didn't know.

 *********

"Arthur, your birth is nothing but a curse, a curse that brings destruction wherever it goes," the unknown man said, his voice laced with a hint of sadness. "You should not have been born, God Slayer, for you challenge the heavens and care not if it will collapse on others because you destroyed it. But nevertheless, I hope you win." Arthur, a young adult with golden eyes that shone like the sun, had ancient inscriptions within his eyes that seemed unworldly and incomprehensible, like a language from a distant planet. These inscriptions pulsed with a power that was both fascinating and terrifying, as if they held the secrets of the universe. The combination of the golden iris and the ancient inscriptions provided a regal and majestic look, but also gave off godly vibes that deterred mortals from approaching him, as if he was a deity beyond human comprehension. His white hair now contained a few strands of black hair that contradicted and complemented each other like yin and yang, a symbol of the duality of his existence. His forearms were covered in ancient tattoos that looked ethereal and showed a great deal of power, as if they held the secrets of the universe. A sword with a dark hilt, adorned with dragon inscriptions that seemed to dance in the light, hung by his side, radiating an aura of danger that was both captivating and intimidating. The black cloth he wore clung to his body like a coiling serpent, showing off his well-toned and perfect muscled body, honed from years of battle and strife. The clothes did nothing but accentuate the beauty that was already evident, like a masterpiece that needed no additional embellishments. Arthur's face was devoid of any emotions, his apathetic eyes gazing at only the sky, ignoring the words of the man talking to him, as if he was lost in a world of his own.

After a while, the sky split in two, and through the split, a being appeared. Wrapped in a white robe that screamed godliness, Shiva, the god of lightning, looked down on the world with disdain, his eyes slowly shifting towards Arthur before showing even more disdain and irritation, his face twisted in a snarl. "Are you the ant that dares to sully the names of us gods?" Shiva said in an arrogant and disdainful manner towards Arthur, his voice like thunder that shook the earth. "How dare an ant like you believe you can go against the gods? Your arrogance will lead to your death, and after I'm done with you, I will destroy everyone close to you; that's the price you pay for disrespecting..." Shiva could not finish his statement before he realized something was wrong; his view of the world was upside down. He realized he had been beheaded, but that caused even more confusion - how was he beheaded? When? His eyes had been on Arthur all along, and he didn't see Arthur move towards him, so how? Shiva was filled with intense rage; he was going to flatten this world for sullying his dignity and make him a laughing stock among other gods. This world was going to be destroyed. As for his decapitated head, he had no reason to worry; he was a god and couldn't be killed, not even by another god. He was incapable of death and would regenerate a new head while the fallen head disappeared and ceased to exist, bringing him back the same way he was a few seconds ago. Or so he thought until he realized how wrong he was. His head wasn't regenerating; he was even losing consciousness.

For the first time since his existence, he felt the primal instinct of man - he felt fear, fear for death that had eluded him all this while. He panicked, regretted his actions, and wished he wasn't impulsive and arrogant; his life wouldn't be ending like this. Regret was the last thing Shiva felt before his vision faded, his once-mighty form now nothing more than a lifeless corpse.

The man who had been talking to Arthur a few minutes ago was shocked. What did he just witness? The death of a god? But that was supposed to be impossible. At that moment, his fear and respect for Arthur increased many fold. "I would advise you to leave here as fast as you can; this place is most likely to become a war zone," Arthur said, his voice devoid of emotion, his not betraying any emotions.

The man wanted to decline the offer, believing a showdown of the era was about to take place, but he could only nod and leave, knowing that "dead men tell no tales." He flew away from the area as fast as he could, the wind rushing past him like a hurricane, leaving behind a trail of destruction and chaos.

Immediately after he left, the split in the sky increased manifold, and several gods appeared, their faces twisted in anger and fear. "How dare you?" a god roared loudly, anger in his face, but within that anger was fear - fear for death. They saw it; the mortal they looked down on did the impossible and killed a god. They were wary but still braced themselves for battle. They could never leave such an anomaly alive.

Arthur didn't say anything to the gods' words, only unsheathing his sword and stepping into a battle stance, his movements fluid and graceful like a dancer. Words were not needed for dead men.

Young Arthur woke up from his dream and shook his head, his eyes still cloudy with sleep. "Even after all those tortures, I still have such childish dreams," he said painfully, disappointment etched on his face like a scar. If only he knew that was his imminent future, a future filled with blood, sweat, and tears.