"Hanjun, Beixin, and Jayhon. Two boys and a girl, stealing from my kingdom again. How many chances did I give you kids?"
The words drifted down from the dais like falling ice.
Atop the velvet-draped throne of Morvane sat the King, a man of cruel, chiseled features framed by a mane of spun gold.
He sat with his legs crossed, leaning his cheek against a propped fist, looking thoroughly bored.
Behind him, two Royal Guards stood like monolithic statues, their armored presence choking the air out of the grand throne room.
Before him knelt three children, filthy and trembling.
At the center was Hanjun, a thirteen-year-old boy with a shock of silver hair and wide, soot-smudged grey eyes.
His oversized, ragged clothes practically swallowed his thin frame, looking blatantly stolen from a much larger peasant.
To his left was Beixin, a fourteen-year-old girl whose dark hair fell in matted clumps around a pair of sharp, crimson eyes.
To his right knelt Jayhon, also thirteen, his deep ocean-blue eyes fixed firmly on the marble floor, dressed in the drab, standard clothes of a commoner.
"B...but we have no food,"
Beixin stammered, her voice cracking as she forced herself to speak.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hanjun and Jayhon violently trembling, looking as though they were about to soil themselves. Neither dared to look up.
"No shelter. No one to take care of us... what are we supposed to do? If we stay like this, we will die of hunger! On top of that, all we did was steal a single loaf of bread to share between the three of us!"
The King didn't even blink. He merely shifted his weight, a faint, mocking glint entering his eyes.
"Show me what type of Zheki the three of you use,"
the King commanded, seeking a moment of cheap amusement.
"Then, I shall decide your fates."
A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. The children exchanged blank, terrified glances. Finally, Beixin swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper.
"M..may we a..ask what Zheki is, my King?"
The King's boredom instantly flashed into sharp irritation.
He leaned forward, his aura pressing down on them like lead.
"Foolish brats,"
the King scoffed.
"Zheki is the very way of life. It is the primal energy running through your veins and your blood, locked tight inside your hearts. The elements you command are born from it. Show me your palms and concentrate that energy!"
Terrified of incurring further wrath, the three kids immediately held out their hands. Beixin and Jayhon squeezed their eyes shut, focusing with everything they had. Hanjun, however, kept his eyes wide open, blinking like a bewildered, newborn kitten.
A moment later, a pathetic, flickering spark sputtered into existence above Beixin's palm—a tiny, unstable flame. Next to her, a weak, unfocused trickle of water began to spill lazily from Jayhon's hand, splashing uselessly onto the pristine marble.
Seeing the water, Jayhon let out a tiny, ragged breath of relief. He leaned slightly toward Beixin, whispering in a barely audible thread of sound,
"We can drink free water from now on..."
Hanjun, meanwhile, was panicking. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he had no idea how to find this 'Zheki,' let alone pull it out.
Sensing his distress, Beixin shot him a desperate glance and hissed under her breath.
"Close your eyes. Try to feel something deep inside your heart, and then push that feeling through your veins to your palm. Remember a moment that made you incredibly angry, or wildly happy—use that to pull it out! It was hard, but it worked for me."
She briefly gestured to the tiny flame dancing on her skin.
Hanjun tried.
He squeezed his eyes shut until his vision swam with black spots, but nothing happened. He searched his mind for an anchor—joy, rage, sorrow—but found a hollow void.
Hanjun had never known happiness.
He had never known true anger.
The only thing he had ever felt in his short, miserable life was caution.
Fearful awareness.
He had nothing else.
Images flashed through his mind of the days before he met the others, wandering the freezing streets.
Then, meeting Jayhon—who was just as lost, though far more easily frightened. They had been on the verge of starving to death when they saw her: a fierce, dark-haired girl getting brutally kicked in the face for stealing a scrap of meat.
The moment her crimson eyes had locked onto theirs, she hadn't cried; she had simply stood up, grabbed them by the rags, and taught them how to survive. Jayhon and Hanjun didn't know what was right or wrong in this world. All they knew was that they wanted to live another day without the gnawing pain of an empty stomach.
A full minute passed. Suddenly, a faint, minuscule green spark materialized in the center of Hanjun's palm, shedding a dull, sickly glow.
Beixin and Jayhon let out breathless, ruined smiles.
But their relief was instantly shattered by a cold, echoing chuckle from the throne.
"A flame that wouldn't even be enough to light a tavern torch,"
the King scoffed, his eyes tracking over them with utter disdain.
"Water so unfocused it can't even hold a shape. And what is that supposed to be?"
He stared at the dull green light in Hanjun's hand.
"I... I don't know, Your Highness,"
Hanjun whispered, keeping his head bowed as low as possible.
"Well, it matters little,"
the King sighed, leaning back into his throne. "No matter how weak a manifestation is, if you master it and focus it perfectly to your hand, you can kill almost anyone. But you three? You are nothing."
The King raised a hand, lazily gesturing in the air.
"In this world, there are thirteen distinct tiers of Zheki users. Within each tier, there are three sub-levels: the Junior level, the Middle level, and the Senior level. The gap between these tiers is an unbridgeable ocean. A Senior level Tier 3 user, at the absolute peak of their power, is still utterly helpless against the weakest, most pathetic Junior level Tier 4 user. And you kids?"
The King sneered, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
"You kids are probably Tier 1 Middle level, if I am being generous. You are insects."
He raised a single finger.
"Therefore, your fates are decided."
With a sharp, resounding snap of the King's fingers, the two Royal Guards stepped forward. The heavy, metallic shhhk of steel leaving scabbards echoed through the vaulted room.
"Cutting off a hand would usually be punishment enough for thievery,"
the King's voice dropped an octave, turning dark and devoid of mercy.
"But you pests have stolen from my stores one too many times. The only right choice now..."
The shadows in the room seemed to lengthen.
"INSTANT EXECUTION. ONE BY ONE."
The children's eyes dilated in sheer, unadulterated horror. They could hear the heavy footsteps of the guards closing in from behind, the cold gleam of raised steel catching the torchlight.
"WHAT THE HECK DO YOU MEAN,
INSTANT EXECUTION?!"
Beixin shrieked, the reality of death shattering her composure.
"Quick, both of you, let's get out of here!"
Driven by pure survival instinct, Beixin and Jayhon scrambled to their feet, spinning around to bolt for the heavy oak doors—
"THUDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The sound was heavy, wet, and final.
Before she could take a single step, Beixin collapsed heavily back onto her knees.
A horrific, jagged crimson line split the back of her rags, blood erupting in an insane torrent that painted the white marble crimson. Her fierce, vibrant red eyes instantly began to glaze over, fading into a dull, lifeless gray.
Jayhon froze mid-stride.
His eyes widened to the size of saucers, his mouth hanging open in a silent, paralyzed scream.
No sound came out; the sheer, paralyzing terror choked the air right out of his lungs.
Up on his throne, the golden-haired King simply smiled.
Hanjun, a beat behind the others, slowly turned his head to see what had caused the noise. The first thing his grey eyes registered was the look of absolute, broken horror on Jayhon's face... and then, his gaze drifted downward.