The Interwoven Fates

The provinces and kingdoms conquered by Zalos, though subdued, were kept under constant surveillance by the governors appointed by the imperial family. These lands, some prosperous and others remote, lived under a tense peace, knowing that the empire did not tolerate dissent. The villages were rich in resources, but the threat of imperial justice always loomed over them, ensuring that no kingdom dared to challenge Zalos' supremacy.

Alqatil knew that the power of his family was so immense that it stretched across the horizon. Despite being only the fourth prince, the shadow of the Zolens enveloped him in every corner of the empire. His name, though still unknown to most of the empire's inhabitants, carried with it a historical burden and a promise of future power. Being a Zolen was being part of a story woven through the centuries, a story that never ended, a story in which every new prince had to prove his worth to keep the dynasty alive.

The Zalos Empire was not just a government; it was the culture, the power, and the future of the entire continent. A single spark of its glory was enough to light an eternal path.

One day, while resting, something strange caught Alqatil's attention. A small icon was shining in the corner of his field of vision, a figure that should not have been there. He stared at it for a long moment, squinting, unable to believe what he was seeing.

—No... it can't be! —he muttered to himself, in disbelief.

Without thinking twice, he focused on the icon, letting his mind concentrate entirely on what seemed like a sign of destiny. This must be my "golden finger," he thought, recalling from the vague fragments of his previous life, that this was the special ability that would make him stand out in this world. It was what would make him different, what would give him the advantage he had longed for.

—This is... this is incredible! —he whispered, almost jumping out of bed from excitement, so happy he nearly fell out of his cradle. His heart was beating rapidly, as if a powerful wave of energy was beginning to flow through his body. This was his opportunity! It could only be the beginning of his greatness.

With his heart in his throat, he tried to activate it. He closed his eyes, focused, and screamed in his mind as if he could force the power to obey: "System, status, window, stats!" He repeated the words over and over, but... nothing.

—What the hell?! —he exclaimed, opening his eyes with a mixture of disbelief and fury. His hands gripped the sheets so tightly they almost tore. He tried again, more insistent, more desperate, concentrating harder than he ever had before. But the icon remained there, motionless, as distant as if it had never existed.

—Damn it! This is a sick joke! —he roared, furious. Every word came out with the weight of his frustration, his mind beginning to boil with rage. How could he be so stupid? The golden finger wasn't working, the opportunity he had been waiting for was nothing but an illusion!

He fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with furrowed brows, breathing heavily. What had gone wrong? Why couldn't he activate that damn ability?

Teeth clenched, he cursed once more, this time more forcefully: —This is crap! Damn it! My luck can't be this bad, hell!

Rage engulfed him, but what burned him the most was the feeling of being so close to something so big, yet so far at the same time. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists in anger, and finally, let himself be defeated by exhaustion. Tomorrow, I'll try again, he thought, though resentment still pulsed within him.

The next day, as Alqatil reflected on his situation, a series of steps echoed through the palace corridors. They were firm, heavy steps that made the walls tremble slightly, nothing like the sound of any maid or servant. It was the sound of power itself approaching, like the return of a distant thunderclap. The door to his room slowly opened, and a dark shadow filled the threshold.

The man who entered was a being who could crush everything in his path, both in body and soul. His imposing figure seemed to cut through the light, like a mountain blocking the sun. The servants that crossed his path stepped aside in fear, some even falling to their knees, others suffering the pain of their bones breaking under the invisible weight of his presence. They did not dare raise their gaze, allowing themselves to be stepped on as if they were stones in his way. Those who fell to the ground, breaking under the force of his step, knew that their deaths would not be in vain: they would receive lifetime compensation, enough to ensure their families' happiness. Still, they could not help the mixture of dread and reverence at being so close to their lord, the Emperor of Zalos.

The man approached Alqatil's bed with a slowness that seemed endless, his blue eyes shining with an overwhelming intensity. Each of his steps resonated like a hammer blow to the hearts of those lucky, or unfortunate, enough to be in his way. The air around him tensed, as if the very space feared to touch him.

His black hair, darker than the night itself, fell perfectly across his face, but what truly made everything around him fall silent was his gaze. Those blue eyes did not merely see; they pierced through the skin, beyond any soul, stripping whoever they fixed upon of their humanity. The energy radiating from him was so dense and powerful that it seemed to seize the entire room, filling it with an overwhelming, imposing force.

With terrifying calm, he drew his sword, a blade forged with centuries of tradition and power. The cold gleam of the blade reflected the light in the room, and the man pointed it directly at Alqatil, who froze in fear. What the hell was he doing? Pointing a sword at his own son! Alqatil couldn't believe what he was seeing, his body trembling slightly as he struggled to process what was happening.

Alqatil's father. He simply uttered a word in an ancient tongue, his deep voice laden with power echoing in the room: ἀποβλήτη.

It was a word that meant "discard," and although Alqatil did not fully understand, the sense of disdain and contempt was palpable, as if the very essence of his existence was seen as insignificant. There was no love in his gaze, no signs of a father, only the coldness of someone who stood above everything and everyone.

The moment stretched into what seemed like an eternity, until finally, with a movement as fast as the wind, he sheathed his sword and turned away, leaving Alqatil there, motionless, his mind blank. Without saying another word, he exited the room with the same overwhelming presence he had brought with him. The door closed behind him, leaving Alqatil in a sea of conflicting thoughts.

"He's crazy," murmured Alqatil, feeling a mix of relief and fear, a knot in his stomach reminding him that his father's figure was not just imposing, but terrifying.

That man, the Emperor of Zalos, was so far above everyone else that his subjects didn't even dare to look him in the eye. The terror and respect he commanded around him were so vast that any rebellion, any hint of doubt, was immediately crushed. And Alqatil, the fourth prince, was still just a child under his shadow.

Suddenly, a strange sensation overwhelmed him. It was as if his soul were touched by something deep and ancient, something beyond human comprehension. Alqatil felt a cold current rush through his body, and in that same instant, a cascade of bright lights appeared before his eyes. Thousands of souls, condensed into a blinding image, unfolded before him. The screen materialized so imposing that it seemed like space itself was crumbling around him, the feeling of power was almost tangible. Suddenly, a message appeared before his eyes, with an indescribable energy that seemed to resonate deep within his being.

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¥€√kd@k welcomes you. Please select a system. Multiple options are available.

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Alqatil stood stunned. The magnitude of what he was seeing left him breathless. This was real! Finally, something he could use to grow, to survive in the ruthless empire! It felt as if, for the first time in his life, a lifeline had been thrown to him. Though doubts still lingered in his mind, the desire for power and the need for vengeance were stronger. This could be his path to the top, his tool to prove that, even as a fourth-tier prince, he could become greater than all of them.

"This is..." he murmured, completely fascinated by what lay before him.

But, while his mind tried to comprehend what was happening, a strange discomfort washed over him. A sense of restriction. He knew the message had been a greeting, but who or what was ¥€√kd@k? He tried to pronounce it in his mind, but something blocked him. Like an invisible force preventing his mind from deciphering it, as if that name was too vast, too ancient to be understood by a mere mortal.

With his pulse racing and a smile of satisfaction, Alqatil focused his mind on the options unfolding before him. The list seemed endless, each one stranger than the last, but there was one that stood out above the rest, offering what he needed, what he had been searching for.

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─────────List of Systems──────────

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—Blood System

—Incubus System

—Soul System

—Rune System

—Tackle System

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And among them, one shone with a dark, powerful, and tempting light.

Villain System.

"I'm going to pick one of the good ones, something that'll give me a real advantage," Alqatil murmured, a cold, sinister laugh escaping his lips. He knew this would be his system. He wanted nothing less. There was no time for weakness or hesitation. The empire showed no mercy, and neither would he. But even so, a doubt lingered in his mind.

He selected the system decisively, almost as if he were taking control of his destiny.

But in the next instant, something strange happened.

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Error #@$$##: The Villain System has merged with another entity.

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What? What the hell is going on? Alqatil thought, surprised. I didn't choose this!

He tried to calm himself and assess the situation. Maybe the error wasn't as bad as it sounded.

—Status —he said aloud, trying to activate something.

Shit... he thought, frustrated.

Suddenly, the strange sensation returned, stronger than before. This time, Alqatil couldn't help but shiver as he saw the message that appeared before his eyes.

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Mission

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Prove that you are a villain. Commit a questionable act without remorse.

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Objective: Kill a maid.

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Reward: Unlocked state.

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The air around him seemed to grow denser, as if the very space were pressing down on him. Alqatil closed his eyes, feeling a knot in his stomach. That mission, that order... was unmistakable. Kill. It was what he had done in his past life, before he made the promise to his mother. That word dragged him into a kind of life he no longer wanted to remember, something he least expected.

Do I really have to do it? —he thought, swallowing hard. Kill again?

He stood there, paralyzed. The image of a maid briefly appeared in his mind. A fragile woman, powerless, without influence. A being who didn't deserve to die, at least not by his hand.

Alqatil thought that this system might be one of those systems where you have to seduce the heroines and make the hero's life impossible, stealing everything along the way, but in most novels, the system never directly asks to take a life; it's the person's actions. But here, it was the other way around.

Why? He thought, looking at his hands as if they could give him an answer. Why now?

He remembered his mother's words, whispers in his ears when he was young, before everything changed. "Never again, never again kill, my son. It's the path of monsters. You will not become what your father was." His mother's words were clear, sharp in his mind, and Alqatil had taken them as a personal vow. He had decided not to be like him, his father, who never showed mercy. However, the future did not offer him many options. If he wanted to survive, he would have to adapt.