I rolled my eyes and looked down, feeling depressed.
"What's the point of just watching without doing anything?" I muttered.
As I raised my gaze back to the sky and then down again, I noticed that the carriage transporting us had stopped. Atom had already stepped out.
I kept observing the world around me, my thoughts heavy.
"Now I can understand why Seth did what he did," I thought.
With a sigh, I lifted my right arm and rustled my hair, trying to appear nonchalant. Atom walked ahead, flanked by five tall, broad-shouldered assassins. Their presence was more than a show of force—it was intimidation.
And I couldn't help but wonder: What did a boy barely ten years old do to deserve this? An entire realm treating him like a grown criminal… or maybe a monster.
The streets felt like a grand parade.
Civilians lined both sides, shoulder to shoulder, leaving just enough space in the center for us to pass. Cheers and chants echoed across the buildings. Children whispered to each other with bright eyes and louder dreams.
"When I grow up, I want to become a Dream Knight," one said.
Another added proudly, "I'll become a Dream Assassin."
Their voices were innocent—naïve. They didn't know the price of such titles.
Eventually, we arrived at the palace gates. Just before they opened, the assassins fastened steel cuffs on Atom's wrists and chained his legs.
The golden double doors burst open.
Inside, the royal guards awaited. The moment their eyes met Atom's, they recoiled.
One of them hissed, "I wish he had died in the battle."
Their hatred was visceral.
The palace interior looked like heaven built by mortal hands.
Golden walls etched with white, celestial markings stretched into the sky. Ornate writings glowed faintly with magical light. Suspended ring-lights shimmered like twin sunsets above us, casting halos across the marble floor. Ribbons and banners flowed gently from the ceiling, and the scent of rare incense filled the halls.
But the grandeur couldn't cover the rot underneath.
There he was—the King—sitting atop a massive throne carved entirely of gold. It shimmered so brightly it seemed to cast a second sun into the castle.
We approached in silence.
When we stopped, he finally spoke.
"Where are the other knights?"
His voice was colder than ice, and the aura surrounding him was suffocating—like shadows had weight. I knew instantly: This is not a kind man.
The assassins flinched as though stabbed by his tone. Without hesitation, they dropped to their knees and bowed deeply.
The leader spoke, voice trembling slightly.
"Your Majesty Sire, do I have permission to stand and speak?"
The King replied, "Yes. You can."
The assassin stood tall, closing the gap between his legs, straightening his chest.
"When we arrived… he was sitting on a rock. The bodies of our knights—and even the monsters—were all dead. And only… he remained."
The King screamed.
"WHAT?!"
He shot up from the throne, grabbed the whip from one of the assassins' hands, and stormed toward Atom. Without warning, he kicked the boy hard in the chest. Atom slid across the polished floor.
The King didn't stop.
He walked over and began stomping on him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And again…
I couldn't hold myself back.
"If I wasn't a ghost right now," I said to myself, seething, "and my body was physical, I would've killed this bastard."
I turned my gaze away. I couldn't bear to watch the cruelty unfold any longer.
Then… silence.
Just as I turned to check on Atom again, a sharp crack pierced the air. The King had used strengthening magic on himself—and struck Atom with the whip.
The sound echoed. Blood sprayed across the golden floor and dripped from the black leather whip like rain from a blade.
I felt something inside me break. Tears welled in my eyes.
"Why am I crying?" I asked myself.
"That's not me. This isn't the present. It's only the past. There's nothing I can do about it…"
Through it all, Atom remained quiet.
Expressionless. Emotionless.
He slowly stood, stumbling because of the chains on his legs. He fell—but then stood again. There was no pride in it. Just endurance.
The King spat more venom.
"Take him to the underground cell. And feed him the scraps of bread you find in the dirt."
The leader of the assassins approached. "Let's go, boy," he said.
He took Atom by the arm, and I followed them through the palace.
We entered a grand library, shelves of ancient tomes stretching to the ceiling, before heading into an underground passage hidden behind a revolving bookcase. As we descended, magic lanterns lit themselves one by one, illuminating the damp corridor in pale blue.
Eventually, we reached the end.
The cell was cold, narrow, and made of stone that looked centuries old. They unlocked the cuffs and removed the chains before throwing Atom inside like garbage.
Without a word, the man turned and walked away.
I phased through the bars and sat beside the boy.
A palace guard arrived, holding a cracked plate with delicious meal. He crouched by the bars and slid the food in.
Then, resting his back against the cell, he looked at Atom and said:
"You know, Atom… you've been here since you were born."