Why the War Happen

Haaaaaaaaa…

Being a tyrant is so hard, Burn thought. The hours were terrible, the vacation nonexistent, and the feedback was unfair. At this point he should’ve just kissed that five-stars ranking goodbye.

Why? You’d get accused of, like, half the things you didn’t even get around to doing.

Killing his older brother to get the comfy chair up the dais… starting a totally avoidable continent-spanning war… offing some random kid… eating a rainbow vomiting unicorn… you know, the usual.

…Okay, fine. Point-by-point, guilty as charged. He was a villain. Exhibit A through Z, right here.

But shut up, man.

His older brother wasn’t even the crown prince. Burn was. The random kid, well, that hadn’t happened yet, let’s circle back to it later. And eating a unicorn… Well, it was in the past. It was to survive, okay?

Was he making excuses? As long as he didn’t voice it, it was fine, right? He can complain to God alone because that was what God was for. The big guy upstairs was the Listening Entity, after all.

What? About the war, you asked?

Alright, just because you asked, let’s start from the very beginning.

Chapter 1: [Why the War Happen]

Damn. He kinda just wanted to make chapter one about the Witch. She was his favorite part.

But perhaps he’d begin with some context first. Disclaimer, though, for the love of all that is evil, don’t tell anyone. A tyrant has a reputation to maintain.

Three years ago, Nethermere’s skyline (his world) decided it was time for a change, y’know. A crack opened up in the sky to introduce the local populace to their new neighbors.

A legion of spaceships.

Yep, you read that right. Yay! We’re not alone in this universe! Or, well, fuck, we’re not alone in this universe. Fuck.

Spaceships. Thousands of them.

These interstellar tourists came from what they deemed a “higher” civilization, with intentions to add Nethermere to their collection of conquered lands. Fair, to be honest. Who wouldn’t want to collect worlds?

They had technology so advanced it made quantum physics seem like a toddler's babble. They traversed realms, searching for resource-rich mines as naturally as a river flows to the sea.

Their arsenal? Oh, just your everyday laser cannons, force fields capable of shrugging off nuclear explosions, and AI so smart it could calculate dimensions jumping.

They already faced realms of all sorts, winning some over with trade and bulldozing others with raw power.

For them, Nethermere, with its quaint medieval charm and technology so archaic it might belong in an ancient history museum (they say), felt like a stroll through a park.

So…

"Crush and occupy," they declared at once. Straightforward strategy commenced. There was no need for underhanded methods when facing off against sword-swinging, horseback-riding folks, right?

But suddenly, their invasion ground to a halt, all thanks to a single man.

Ayo, standing ovation to ya boy.

“I am King Burn of Soulnaught Kingdom.”

“WHA—”

“Who the fuck is thi—”

“AAAH—”

Okay now, picture this.

Spaceships, engines humming in arrogance, suddenly blasted into new years fireworks. And the culprit?

A man with nothing but his bare fists, a bit of cruel magic, and also, well, probably a disdain for unwelcome house guests.

King Burn was a one-man army, a force of nature. Ya boy.

And as these futuristic vessels crumbled under his might, you could almost hear the invaders' confidence shattering into a billion pieces. Uh-huh. Ya boy.

“Narrator, stop playing.”

Here was a guy who didn't need lasers or AI, he had his fists and spells that made their advanced weaponry look like toys. It was as if an ancient hero, usually seen brandishing a sword in myths, decided to show the universe what real power looked like.

“Come on, shut up for a second. It’s fucking embarrassing. We agreed we want to get into ‘the Witch’ part quickly.”

So there they were, a civilization that had conquered realms, brought to their knees by a single man from a world they deemed "primitive."

No.

Just maybe, if that man hadn't been born, they would have.

That was three years ago. It was a different story today. See? We’re getting to it. Please be patient, you bastard.

“Fine.”

Thus, following Burn's gentle reprimand, our gallant invaders experienced a lightbulb moment. Considering that using force was ineffective, it was necessary to implement "Plan B: Make Friends and Influence People... to Destroy Themselves."

Clever, huh? Instead of employing laser guns, they exchanged grins and handshakes and concentrated on trading strategies. "We apologize for damaging your sky, but let's trade!"

"We'll give you shiny tech gadgets in exchange for... well, your society."

Their products were indeed too excellent to resist.

Imagine having a hoverbike instead of a horse, a perpetual lightbulb in place of a candle, a fusion reactor installed in your ancient royal chariot, and armor with a built-in temperature control system. Damn neat.

Is there anyone who could refuse? Not the aristocrats and nobility, duh. They skydived at the chance to associate with these new generous merchants.

The invaders, of course, whispered sweet nothings into the ears of the powerful, sowing seeds of distrust and ambition. "Did you see Lord So-and-So's new anti-gravity cloak? Bet you wish you had one. Maybe if you weren't such good friends with Duke What's-His-Name..."

And just like that, the powerful people of the land started eyeing each other. The once unified front against the invaders crumbled faster than a cookie in zero gravity.

In three short years, the land was rife with chaos, all because of a few well-placed bargains and baubles.

Let's give a round of applause to our space-faring friends, shall we?

Well, it wasn’t like they never did so before. It was just classic for experienced space invaders like them. Who needs an all-out war when you can just get the locals to tear each other apart over the latest intergalactic knick-knacks?

Bravo, invaders, bravo.

Until…

"Do you think King Burn is... you know, a bit harsh?"

"What? Harsh? Pfft, I heard he killed his own brother in the civil war because they coveted the same sword as children! Well, maybe not just that, but I heard it was just over petty things!"

"Really? That's nothing. My cousin's friend told me Burn's cruelty knows no bounds. He banished his aide for buttoning his shirt wrong. Imagine, his aide!"

"Banished his aide? Come on, that's child's play. I heard from a reliable source that he threw a jester into the dungeon for being not funny. Listen, it’s hard being the funny one when everyone’s trying their best not to die."

"No way! Well, did you know he outlawed sneezing within a hundred paces of him because he believes it steals his thoughts? That's why nobody dares to even sniffle at court!"

"That's bizarre. But it makes sense. I’d also be mad if you’d cut off my wo—"

"Do you think any of it's true?"

“Bruh, don’t cut off my wo—”

"Who knows? But it sure makes for a good tale. Just don't whisper too loud. The walls have ears, and they might just report back to our dear 'merciful' King Burn."

Oh, you would hope it was just these kinds of silly rumors. In truth, it wasn’t. Or to be certain, it did start silly, and it became a rot.

The reason for the civil war five years ago, where he killed his brother, started to be questioned.

Everyone thought it was treason against the kingdom, but slowly, they started to think that it was rooted in how horrible of a king Burn was, and his brother wanted to take over the throne from him.

“Y… Your Majesty…”

“They even used my history with my brother, huh?” Burn, sitting on his throne, muttered.

Ranks of ministers, nobles, knights and aides kneeling in front of him in that opulent hall, drenched in sweat.

The man sitting on the throne sneered, “Reports have been quite interesting these days.”

King Burn lounged on his throne, eyeing the sea of kneelers before him.

No one had asked them to kneel, but there they were, sweat pooling, glaring at the floor, the sudden most fascinating aspect of the room.

‘Aaaah, today, the hall’s floor is so cold and refreshing, polished so meticulously that it was squeaky clean… kudos to the palace servants… fuck, I hope I can keep my head…’

Shift.

All bodies stiffened as they heard their King shifted on his seat.

“Heh…”

They heard their king chuckling! A goosebumps ran down their spine, simultaneously. ‘What’s today’s horoscope? What’s my luck today?’

⁤"Gather round, folks, for the tale of how I, 'Burn the tyrant,' apparently started the civil war by being mean to my brother." ⁤

⁤

There was silence in the room as everyone's ears were tuned to the sarcasm that was dripping from his words like honey.

⁤"Fuckers forgot there are space invaders. See the connection?" He sighed. “Who’d benefit most from these rumors, you little shits?”

⁤⁤"But oh, no, let's not talk about saving the world. ⁤⁤Let's gossip about how I supposedly throw people into dungeons for looking at me funny. Thaaaaat's the kind of thing that keeps me all giddy." ⁤

⁤The audience shuffled. ⁤⁤No one dared to get up, their loyalty, or maybe fear, keeping them to the spot. ⁤

⁤"Our extraterrestrial bitches. ⁤⁤Divide et impera, am I right? ⁤⁤Ohh, so classic." ⁤

⁤Burn's gaze swept over them, as cold and sharp as ever. ⁤⁤"So, here we are, playing into their hands, turning against each other over whispers and rumors. ⁤⁤Honestly, I expected better. ⁤⁤But hey, what do I know? ⁤⁤I'm just the tyrant on the throne." ⁤

⁤As he leaned back, a calm smirk played on his lips.

⁤The hall was silent. ⁤

⁤THUD! ⁤

⁤As Burn's metal heel descended to the floor after he straightened his crossed legs, the court started to expect something.

Heads would start rolling! ⁤

Like the breaking of dawn, King Burn got up from his seat. ⁤

⁤Every heart stopped in mid-beat, every eye was fixated on him, and the quiet grew. ⁤⁤He spoke. ⁤

⁤"Enough," he exhaled, his voice making echoes against the gold and marble. ⁤⁤It seemed to come straight from the gods. ⁤

⁤"It would be embarrassing to let these outsiders be. ⁤⁤No, it would be my shame," he said again. ⁤

I was a declaration of war, but on his terms.

"Their game is clear," Burn announced, "and I intend to play as the sole player. Conquer? Yes, but it will be I who conquers."

His advisors, ministers, and knights hung on every word, witnessing the moment that would redefine the fate of their world.