Prince of The Ruined Kingdom

I woke up slowly, the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains of this cramped inn room. It felt strange. After everything that had happened, my body felt heavy, especially in my chest—not from physical exhaustion, but from something deeper, something weightier. The face of the man I had killed still lingered in my mind, refusing to fade away. His eyes, slowly losing their spark of life, the blood flowing, his hands clutching his chest before he finally fell. It all felt like a nightmare that kept repeating.

I turned to the side, and there was Abigail already awake. She was busy packing her things, fastening a belt with ammunition, and slipping her sleek firearm into its holster on her thigh. She looked just like she always did—calm, focused, and full of energy, as if yesterday's battle was just another part of her routine. I knew I should emulate her calmness, but… I couldn't.

Another part of me chimed in, as it often did. "Looks like Abigail didn't crawl into your bed this time. Relief, right?" It commented on the situation with its usual nonchalance, devoid of emotion.

I took a deep breath, trying to dispel the haunting memories of yesterday. "You're right," I replied inwardly, attempting to stay as composed as possible. But the shadows of death lingered. Despite my other self's lighthearted comment, I knew this was far heavier than I could cover with a few jokes.

I sat up on the bed, watching Abigail as she busied herself with her gear. "Where are you off to this early?" I asked, my voice sounding hoarse, probably from lack of sleep.

Abigail glanced over briefly, then looked at me with an expression that was… a little different. Usually, she would tease me, her words laced with mischief, but this time she didn't. She looked calm and serious. "I'm just going out for a bit to get something for breakfast."

I stared at her, a bit confused. "You're leaving me here alone? Aren't you worried I might run off?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

Abigail offered a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I trust you, Arche."

I didn't respond. What could I say? The guilt felt like poison, slowly eating away at my mind. Seeing Abigail so composed, so accustomed to all this, only made me feel worse. Would I ever become like her? Accustomed to killing, accustomed to death?

"I'll be back soon," she said as she grabbed her coat and extra weapon. "You can think everything through calmly. Don't be too hard on yourself." With that, she left the room, leaving me alone.

I lay back down on the bed, staring at the cramped ceiling. My other self, the one that always surfaced in moments like this, spoke again. "You need to accept this reality, Arche. This world isn't as nice as you think."

I let out a deep sigh. "I know. But that doesn't make it any easier."

"You can't keep clinging to your old ideals. The world is harsh. If you don't kill, you'll be killed." Its tone was firm, as if patiently yet forcefully advising me.

"But killing… I can't forget that man's face. I… I never wanted to kill anyone. We always avoided fights like this. We only killed wild animals or monsters to survive, not other humans." My voice began to tremble.

"That was before we became fugitives. You have to understand, this is different. Back in the kingdom, we could hide behind protection. Now, there's no shelter. We are alone." My other self sounded like a battle-hardened soldier speaking to a novice, devoid of compassion.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself, but all I saw was the face of the man I killed yesterday. His desperate hands, his screams, the blood flowing. It was all… too much. "I was taught that life is sacred. Goddess Oriana always taught love, that we shouldn't harm others. So how can I live with killing others?"

My other self laughed softly, but without humor. "Goddess Oriana? Those teachings may have applied within the walls of the kingdom, under the protection of family. But look where we are now, Arche. We are no longer the sheltered prince. We are no longer children who can hide behind the morality taught by kings and queens. This is the real world. If you don't adapt, you will die. Simple as that."

I fell silent. Its words were sharp, painful, but also true. I knew that. Yet part of me—the part that still clung to the teachings of our goddess, the teachings of our mother—couldn't just accept this reality. "But I don't want to be like that. I don't want to be someone who can kill without a second thought. That's not me."

"And what will you do? Let yourself be killed? Let Abigail die because you're too afraid to fight?" It pressed me, its tone growing harsher. "You have no choice, Arche. You can cling to your ideals and die, or you can survive and adapt to this world."

I stared at the ceiling, feeling as though my whole world was collapsing. I didn't know what to do. On one hand, I knew my other self was right. This world was indeed cruel, and if I didn't survive, I would die. But on the other hand… killing, witnessing life slip away before me, was something I found hard to accept.

"Then how can I live with myself after this?" I finally asked, my voice a whisper.

My other self paused for a moment before replying calmly. "You don't need to like what you do. You just need to do it."

I bit my lip, tears nearly spilling from my eyes. This was an inescapable reality. The world out there was not as beautiful as Goddess Oriana had taught. But deep in my heart, I still wanted to believe that there was another way. A better way.

But for now, perhaps I had to accept that life doesn't always align with the morals I held dear.

***

Abigail stepped out of the inn room slowly, closing the door carefully behind her. For a moment, she leaned against the door, bowing her head and allowing herself a brief pause. Her breath was deep and heavy, not from physical exhaustion but from a weight in her heart that had settled since they arrived at Arcadia Point.

She shut her eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening behind that door, where Arche lay on the bed, engulfed in a profound sense of guilt. Abigail could feel his emotional turmoil, and even though she showed nothing but calmness, inside, she felt a pang of pain for him. One thing Abigail always understood about Arche was how tender his heart was. In this brutal world, such tenderness could be seen as a weakness—but it was also an incredible strength. That was one reason why Abigail always felt close to him, despite their different backgrounds and complicated histories.

"He needs time," Abigail thought, though deep down, she wished she could go back in, hold Arche, and tell him that everything would be alright. But she knew this wasn't the right moment. "Sometimes, a person needs to face themselves first."

As she stepped away from the door, Abigail let her mind wander back to their journey to Arcadia Point. She remembered how Arche had seemed so quiet, unlike his usual self. He might often be reserved, but there was always a glimmer of joy in his eyes. However, throughout their travels, Arche had been mostly silent, lost in dark thoughts as if trapped in a loop of painful memories.

That night when they arrived at the inn, Abigail had hastily booked a room with two beds. She expected Arche to protest, maybe tease her or debate the oddity of sharing a room, but he had said nothing. He simply entered the room, flung himself onto the bed, and sank into an eerie silence.

Sitting on her own bed, Abigail watched Arche with a deep sense of compassion. There was something in his eyes that made her want to do anything to lift the burden from his shoulders. Yet at the same time, she knew this was a path Arche had to walk alone. No matter how hard she tried, it was up to him to find a way to reconcile with himself.

"Arche..." Abigail murmured his name softly as she walked through the bustling streets of Arcadia Point, which felt oddly empty to her. Everyone in the city seemed busy with their own affairs, contrasting sharply with Abigail's mind, which was focused solely on one thing—Arche. Her heart ached as she recalled how he had cried silently the night before, all because of a single event that, to her, was just part of this harsh world: killing to survive.

"He doesn't remember me," Abigail thought, the feelings she had long tried to suppress bubbling back to the surface. "He doesn't remember who I am… or maybe he doesn't want to."

They had met so long ago, long before their worlds changed, when they were still children. But their lives had drifted apart for so long, and their recent reunion felt like a cruel twist of fate. Abigail had cherished that memory deep in her heart—those beautiful childhood days with Arche when life was simpler. But he didn't seem to remember any of it. Or perhaps, he simply couldn't.

Abigail sighed and stopped in front of a small stall selling food and drinks. She thought about buying something for Arche, something that might bring him a little comfort. But then she fell silent, staring at the items before her without truly seeing them.

"What good would it do?" she thought. "It's not food he needs. It's not some simple distraction that can ease his guilt. He's trapped in an internal battle, and no one can help him but himself."

Still, Abigail felt an urge to do something. She couldn't bear to see Arche so tortured, so broken. "If only he remembered… if only he knew how much I care for him."

But the reality was that Arche was now a different person. Everything that had happened to him—loss, fleeing, fighting—had changed him. And perhaps, Abigail thought, she had to accept that the Arche she knew from their childhood might never return.

As she continued walking, her thoughts drifted back to the goddess Arche often spoke of. "Goddess Oriana…" Abigail murmured her name. The teachings of that goddess were clearly deeply ingrained in Arche, serving as a moral compass he clung to tightly. But in a world filled with cruelty, those teachings might feel unrealistic.

Abigail shook her head, not fully agreeing with that notion. "No, that's what makes him different. What makes him… still be himself." After all, Arche always held on to that morality, even as the world around him crumbled. And that was what Abigail loved about him—though she had never put it into words.

"I wish he could see how strong he is," Abigail thought. "Not just because he can fight or protect himself, but because he can hold onto his beliefs, even as the world constantly tries to tear them apart."

Abigail walked further away from the inn, her eyes scanning the streets for something—anything—that might divert Arche's attention from his despair. Yet deep in her heart, she knew this was a journey Arche had to take alone. The only thing Abigail could do was be there for him when he was finally ready to talk, ready to face reality, and ready to move forward without the shadows of guilt haunting him.

But for now, Abigail decided to give Arche the space he needed. She understood that sometimes a person must be alone with their thoughts, to confront their fears and mistakes, before they can truly rise again. "I'll wait for him," Abigail thought, her heart filled with hope that one day, Arche would emerge from his despair—and maybe, just maybe, he would remember them, the happy childhood they once shared.

***

In the midst of the hustle and bustle of Arcadia Point, Sierra One moved nimbly between the shadows of towering buildings. The city was vast, bustling with people from all directions, almost like a never-ending maze. Sierra One was accustomed to operating in chaotic situations where everything seemed disordered on the surface, but there were patterns for those who knew how to see them.

But this time was different. The trail he was following—Abigail and Arche—had suddenly vanished amidst the crowd. Something was off.

He paused in the corner of a narrow alley, crouching with his back against a stone wall, his eyes scanning the crowded streets before him. The computer on his wrist displayed a visual map of Arcadia Point, but Abigail and Arche were long gone from the radar.

Sierra One tapped his earpiece and spoke calmly, his cool voice echoing in the tight alleyway. "Beta, I've lost them. Report on the network situation now."

The voice on the other end sounded hurried but professional. "We've been trying to breach the city's network, but… we're at a standstill. Every security camera in this city has been hacked. We're attempting to hack back, but… this hacker is highly skilled. They've even blocked our access to the military security systems. We're blind here, Sierra."

Sierra One listened to the report, feeling uneasy. He was used to challenges, but the scale of this hack was extraordinary. Someone with remarkable skills had seized control of Arcadia Point's systems. He suspected this was no amateur work.

"How long do you need to regain control of the network?" Sierra One asked in a flat tone, still keeping his eyes on the street ahead.

"We've tried various methods, but every time we make a breakthrough, they shut it down immediately. It's like a game of chess. I need more time—perhaps hours, if not days."

Sierra One clenched his fist. Time was a luxury he didn't have.

"We can't afford days," Sierra replied firmly. "I'm switching to direct surveillance. Keep monitoring and let me know if there are any changes."

"Roger. Beta out."

Sierra One cut the communication, straightened his posture, and stepped out of the shadows. He knew the city was a trap, but he had no other choice. With each step, he watched the movements of those around him, searching for signs of Abigail or Arche. They couldn't have gone far—not in a place like this.

After hours of navigating the city, Sierra One finally stopped in the middle of a bustling market district. The sounds of laughter, conversation, and the clamor of vendors filled the air. He stood in the crowd, analyzing the situation around him. His eyes darted quickly, scanning every face, every movement.

Then he saw her.

A girl with striking white hair, casually strolling between the market stalls, moving with a calm and confident stride. Abigail.

Sierra One didn't move immediately. He knew it was too soon to strike. In his years of observation, he had learned that sometimes waiting was the hardest part of a mission, yet also the most crucial. He decided to continue monitoring, assessing the situation, ensuring there were no traps before making a move.

He pressed himself against one of the nearby building walls, blending into the shadows while keeping his gaze locked on Abigail. She seemed so relaxed, unaware that she was being watched. But Sierra knew better than to underestimate his opponent. No movement was wasted on someone like Abigail.

As Abigail stopped at one of the stalls to examine the goods, Sierra One communicated again. "Beta, I've found Abigail. Market District. Can you monitor?"

Beta's voice came through, sounding fatigued. "Can't do it. The network is still a mess. You're on your own out there."

Sierra One huffed quietly. Of course. Sometimes, the best skills come from relying on oneself.

He moved closer, slipping from shadow to shadow, keeping a safe distance. So far, Abigail seemed oblivious to his presence, but Sierra knew he had to be careful. If Abigail realized she was being followed, everything could turn into an unwanted open confrontation in such a crowded place.

Sierra One studied Abigail closely. "What are you searching for here?" he thought, trying to make sense of her movements. Abigail drifted from one stall to another, occasionally browsing items but not buying anything. Something felt off.

Suddenly, Abigail halted in front of a food stall and began speaking with the vendor. Sierra One pressed closer to the wall, hiding behind a stack of wooden crates, watching intently. He couldn't hear what Abigail was saying, but his attention was drawn as the vendor pointed out something to her. Perhaps it was a clue?

Sierra One took a step forward, ready to move closer and catch the conversation. But just as he was about to advance, Abigail looked up. Their eyes almost met.

Sierra quickly retreated, hiding behind the crates. "She can't have seen me," he thought. But the alertness within him grew stronger. Maybe it was time to act more aggressively.

When Sierra peeked again, Abigail had already begun to move again, walking faster than before, as if she sensed she was being followed. Sierra cursed under his breath and immediately moved to follow her, this time closer, trying not to lose track.

Abigail hurried through narrow alleys and winding streets, heading toward a quieter area. Sierra One knew this was the moment. He had to act before Abigail vanished again.

With quick steps, Sierra One crept closer, ready to strike. He drew his weapon, a sophisticated tranquilizer gun capable of incapacitating without killing. His main target was to capture Abigail, not to harm her.

As Abigail reached a secluded narrow alley, Sierra One quickened his pace, prepared to close the distance and shoot.

But just as he raised his weapon, Abigail stopped and turned. Their eyes met in a deadly silence. Sierra One found himself momentarily shocked, but only for a second.

"I've been waiting for you," Abigail said in a calm voice, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Sierra One realized he had been spotted. "How did she know?"

With a swift motion, Abigail drew her own weapon, ready to fight. Sierra One had no choice. This battle was just beginning.

***