Infinite Loop
As it had always been, the journey from the Soulnaught Empire was as much as a march as it was a parade of power. Now here we see how our Burn collected kingdoms like they were limited-edition stamps.
Exciting!
First on the list, Edensor Kingdom! And next, the Elysian Kingdom! Fun! This was what we got to skip every loop, folks, so enjoy it while the author's generous enough to give us worldbuilding!
See, kingdom to kingdom, where the locals' penchant for peace was rudely interrupted by Burn's "diplomacy by sword" approach. Aaah, blood spilled. How beautiful. How effective! Yes, this was the fastest, the best way a tyrant would go at it!
Imagine this beautiful land would be if it fell to the Outsider’s hands? It would be such a heartbreaking waste, no??
Yes. Eeeeverything. Eeeeeverything was ours. Ours!
“Stop yapping.”
…
…
Ahem.
Oh! Look! It’s the part of the montage where the Inkia Kingdom tried to squeeze a quick surrender, hoping to write themselves out of history's harsh judgment! Yeeees, Burn just added their royal seal to his collection, smudging their hopes with a grin.
Now, Luminus Kingdom, with its shining ideals and luminous hopes on God’s religion, dimmed considerably under Burn's shadow.
"Let there be light. MY light," he quipped, ironically, as their hopes extinguished.
“I didn’t say that. Stop putting cheesy words in my mouth.”
Bastard, you said it. You said all those trusty sword monologues too!
“...only in the first run.”
See? He admitted it! Believe me, I’m the narrator!
“...haa…”
Finally, the grand finale at the Wintersin Empire, where the cold reception was met with Burn's fiery ambition. Another epic battle ensued and it was clear that, yes, all empires would eventually check out of the grand hotel of sovereignty. Forcefully.
By the end, Burn stood atop the continent, the collector of crowns, a curator of conquered lands.
It could be said that his march had been less a journey through territories and more a leisurely stroll through a garden, plucking flowers that caught his eye.
Like that, the continent was united by the undeniable logic of "Might Makes Right, Especially When It's This Might."
And now, to see if it was for nothing again…
“She didn’t come… huh?”
The assassin Burn had sent for her might have her in a tight spot now. Burn himself commissioned them and sponsored them, after all. It was a literal death sentence.
Burn was returning to his empire after cleaning and warping up the war when he saw his palace, towering in the distance. The wind blew and a wisp of dust caught in his eyes, forcing him to blink—
***
Chirp…! Chirp chirp…
Rustle…
KNOCK-KNOCK!
“Your Majesty, the preparation for the war is complete.”
The seventh loop started, and Burn returned back, awakened before the apocalyptic war started, cursing—“THAT FUCKING—”
“Y-Your Majesty…?”
“Bring me my sword, Galahad!”
“Y-yes… here, Your Majesty.”
STAB!
Before Galahad could even gasp, Burn had stabbed his own throat. Not deep enough, he pushed even stronger to himself that he almost severed his own head—before he actually did.
TWIST!
“YOUR MAJESTY!”
As Burn decapitated himself, he saw the world spun in red and dread. His own head, once a seat of power and command, now divorced from its body, landed on the ground with a thud.
The sight of his own body succumbing to gravity, collapsing to the ground right after his own head was something not everyone would see.
Out of spite.
***
Chirp…! Chirp chirp…
Rustle…
KNOCK-KNOCK!
“Your Majesty, the preparation for the war is complete.”
Burn opened his eyes.
So… he also couldn’t die.
***
In the last half of a decade, the Kingdom of Edensor had always stood as the unfortunate pawn facing down a queen’s gambit.
At the heart of this kingdom was a boy king, Yvain Edensworn, whose crown sat upon his head with the precariousness of a hat too big for a head.
Critics, armchair generals, and the occasional gossiping courtier decried him as "too green for the throne," mistaking youth for ineptitude.
Yet, under the tutelage of the illustrious Morgan Le Fay, Yvain was brewing up a storm, promising a reign not just of power but of magic. They whispered his name with a mix of reverence and disbelief, dubbing him Little Merlin.
It was five years of his reign. Three years of it alone... without his beloved master.
In the three years post-apocalypse… well, since calling it a mere great invasion by the intergalaxian seemed to undersell the dramatic overhaul of their world… no one could actually say that Yvain was just playing king.
More than being a ruler, he was on a quest. It was a mission that had him scouring the lands all in search of his master, Morgan Le Fay, who had pulled a vanishing act rivaling that of any court jester facing the gallows.
Where was she?
She wasn’t the type of person who would leave him in such a dangerous time.
But of course, there were some clues after all. She disappeared just before the apocalypse happened. Then, even though the invaders almost destroyed their realm, she didn’t reappear.
Instead, King Burn was the one who stopped it in such a glorious manner it almost seemed unreal.
His victory was the stuff of legends, a tale so grand it bordered on the mythical. Doubts and whispers spread not just through Yvain's mind but echoed throughout the corners of the world.
Was there really that strong of a man in this world? More than awe, there was skepticism.
The narrative of King Burn, the singular hero who thwarted an invasion with nothing but his bare hands (and maybe his sword) and a reservoir of internal magic, began to unravel under scrutiny.
It seemed less a proof of heroism and more a carefully crafted illusion, a mirage in the desert of their despair.
A lie!
The invaders, rather than being vanquished, had morphed into schemers. With their presence becoming a wedge driving apart the unity of people, nobility, and royalty alike, it was easy to assume they also had their proxy planted on land.
That was when King Burn… declared war.
The timing was too impeccable, the strategy too convenient.
It seemed as if Burn was on their side from the beginning!
Suspicion took root in the fertile soil of doubt. Was Burn an ally masquerading as a savior, orchestrating a grand deception?
The narrative painted him as the valiant hero, a bulwark against the tide of invaders, yet beneath the veneer of valor, a more sinister plot seemed to unfold. Could it be… a collaborative effort towards complete colonial dominance, disguised as a battle for salvation?
He didn’t save Nethermere, no. It was all an act to conquer the land, depicting the invaders as the bad guy who turned good and Burn as the hero who tried to establish control.
In the end, they were working together to achieve complete colonialism with this elaborate plan.
Except… Burn was actually that strong, and he was truly fed up with the invaders, while still buying their stuff and being the most stable kingdom with loyal courtiers compared to the others in the continent?
Yeah, right. Who could destroy that many spaceships and that strong of apocalyptic mass killing weapons with only his bare hands? Yvain had spent time researching about those mass killing machines that it should be impossible—
Yvain was too wary. Without his master, he couldn’t think straight.
When Burn sent him his emissary, ordering his surrender and to join him in his empire in turn of safety while he marched further in the continent, Yvain was so dismissive of him that he rejected it all.
Yes. Burn’s emissary came knocking with an olive branch in one hand. But in his eyes, Burn’s "generous" offer of protection in exchange for surrender was a gilded cage with an empire-sized lock. Because the emissary clearly came knocking with a leash on the other hand.
He didn’t trust Burn, and even suspected him of having a hand in the disappearance of his master.
Not to mention, how his court warned him against this tyrant. The rumors surrounding him, his tyranny fluttered around Yvain’s court like moths to a flame, each whisper stoking the fires of suspicion further.
“Your Majesty, Master Morgan Le Fay is strong. But they’re also strong. They might be the only ones who could… possibly…”
“My Master is still alive!” Yvain snapped at his own court. “Don’t you dare imply any other scenario. She is just… unable to go home. I’m sure.”
The old ministers and nobles were tired of this little boy playing ruler. Without Morgan Le Fay, he was just a little boy after all.
They wanted to get rid of him.
Therefore, by the time Burn's forces advanced towards Edensor, Yvain had already been betrayed by his own court. Driven by personal ambitions, his people chose to abandon him, effectively betraying not only their young king but also the absent Infinite Witch, Morgan Le Fay.
This mass defection was catalyzed by Burn's aggressive strategy. Had he not confronted the invaders and the shifting global dynamics in such a manner, the betrayal might never have occurred.
After all, Yvain was the undisputed sovereign of Edensor, a fact his court conveniently overlooked in the shadow of impending conquest.
And here Yvain was, in front of the mighty and powerful King—no, Emperor Burn, standing his ground.
He was left alone, a twelve year old boy against the world.
“Why didn’t you surrender?”
Burn remembered he once asked the boy. He had forgotten the reason the boy told him.
But now, he remembered—
“RETURN MY MASTER!”
