The Interwoven Fates

The system, as if it were a presence of its own, showed him the objective with a red, pulsating light. Kill a servant. An unyielding command.

"Damn it," Alqatil thought, clenching his fists. "I can't do this." Could he just move on without following this order? No, he wouldn't.

Days passed, and even though he tried to ignore the message, the reminder kept appearing every few hours, like a weight on his chest. The fear of failing the mission gnawed at him. The voices in his head, like memories of a past filled with dark deeds, grew stronger with every passing moment. He remembered the smell of blood, the crunch of broken bones beneath his feet, the disdain in the eyes of his victims. How many times had he killed to get what he wanted? Yet, every time he did, he felt a part of himself slipping away.

The system seemed to revel in his suffering, etching the mission into his mind without rest.

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Pending Mission. 16 days remaining.

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"This... this isn't possible," murmured Alqatil, staring at the time left. The system, as if sensing his doubt, sent an additional message, cruel in its simplicity:

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You have 16 days to complete the mission. If you do not, the system will disappear. Power will be lost forever, and you will be erased.

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Lose the system? Be erased? The fear of that hit him. What if this really was his only chance? What if he didn't take the path the system offered? Everything he had dreamed of, everything he wanted to achieve, could vanish into thin air. No! He had to act, even if it was the last thing he did. But... kill. That word kept tormenting him.

For a moment, he was tempted to accept the mission, to seek his power. But the memory of his mother, her face full of hope as she told him to be different, kept him frozen. Could he? Should he?

It's just a servant. The voice that echoed in his mind was his own, but it sounded cold, distant, like that of a being who no longer recognized itself. A servant is nothing.

Finally, after days of uncertainty, after doubts and regret devoured him completely, Alqatil understood something clearly. This was his path. He had been born to be great, and he could not escape what had been given to him. If he wanted power, he had to embrace his nature. If he wanted to survive, he had to kill.

The system was offering him the chance to be reborn, to break the chains that held him. Although he still felt the weight of the decision, of that broken promise to his mother, the drive to achieve what he so desired was stronger. The fear of losing power, the fear of falling behind, pushed him toward the abyss.

I have no other choice. Alqatil closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and finally prepared himself to carry out the mission.

The servant would die.

It was then that he began to notice things he had never seen before. The servants passing through the castle halls were not just shadows in motion. Each of them carried a weight that wasn't just physical but emotional, an invisible burden that slowly dragged them toward the abyss. Alqatil realized the small gestures he had once ignored: the hands that trembled while serving food, the furtive glances they cast toward the doors, as if expecting something or fearing that someone would watch them too closely.

Alqatil observed Hana among the others, noticing what made her different. There was something about her that disturbed him deeply, a kind of fragility that still struggled to stay afloat in a sea of suffering. The way she avoided his gaze, as if trying to hide in the shadows, felt familiar to him. He too had learned to avoid looks that could detect his own scars, the wounds that weren't visible but defined him.

"She's just a maid," he repeated to himself over and over, as if those words could quell the growing unease he felt. The mission was clear, and it didn't matter who she was. Killing her would be no different than any other act he had carried out in the past. But something, something in the way Hana looked at him, made his decision waver.

Once again, he found himself questioning what he had been ordered to do. Should he really go through with this? No, he couldn't let a face like hers stop him. The mission was clear, time was running out, and power was within his reach. He couldn't hesitate.

But as the days went by, Hana's presence began affecting him in ways he didn't understand. Sometimes he would see her alone, in some corner, cleaning or sweeping, her face marked by stress. At other times, he found her in the kitchens, speaking in a low voice with the other maids, but always with that expression of constant worry. Although she tried to hide it, something in her gaze showed that she was aware of everything happening around her, a consciousness of the injustice overflowing through the castle walls.

In those moments, Alqatil couldn't help but wonder what would become of her if he didn't complete the mission. Would she continue to be just a maid, trapped in her misery? Or perhaps, could she escape all of that someday if he showed her a bit of mercy?

But the answer always came with the same clarity. He couldn't show mercy. Not if he wanted to survive. Not if he wanted to achieve the power he so desperately desired.

The maid would die. And he would be the one to do it.

Hana wore a silver ring on her finger, though she didn't show it off with pride. It was simple, yet it had the dull shine of something that had been worn for years. What could it be? Alqatil wondered as he observed the ring more closely. Is she married? Or is it a lie, a façade to gain something?

"Maybe those rumors are true..." —Alqatil murmured, noticing how his mind began to give in to the temptation of the dark logic that guided him. The voices of the maids echoed in his mind as his thoughts turned toward Hana, and the idea began to form more clearly: She is already condemned to a life of abuse. Perhaps I'm just the hand that executes the inevitable.

But deep inside, a part of him still doubted. Is it true? Is Hana really deceiving? Is that the crime that marks her? No, that can't be true...

However, the image of the maid walking with her dull eyes and the shine of the ring on her finger, which Alqatil still silently watched, began to hammer in his mind.

If the system demands a sacrifice... he thought as a vision of his previous life passed through his mind. Why should I stop? If this is what the system requires, does it really matter who suffers?

She doesn't know. She doesn't even suspect.

—No, wait... —Alqatil forced himself to stop, as if trying to calm his mind. — Maybe I shouldn't do this. Hana doesn't deserve this. I don't know if what they say about her is true.

But... if this is what I must do, if the system demands it...

Alqatil closed his eyes for a moment, struggling against the memories of his mother, the promise he made not to kill. How can it be that he's considering this? Sacrificing her for the power of the system?

—God... —he whispered, gritting his teeth. — I don't know if this is what I want to do, but the system... won't give me any other choice.

Is there really no other way?

But the system gave no respite, and the mission was clear. He couldn't escape it, not without consequences. And suddenly, as if a ton of weight had settled on his shoulders, the idea of going through with it began to settle in his mind.

—I hope you'll forgive me... —he murmured, with a mix of resignation and a hint of self-hatred.

The system didn't give him time to hesitate further. He knew he wouldn't have much time before the consequences of his indecision caught up with him.

Six days... —he thought as he looked at Hana, feeling the time slipping away quickly. Should I go through with this? How far will I go to obtain my power?

The last breath of doubt faded as a dark resolve began to take hold of him.

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───────── Five days later ──────────

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The day had arrived, but Alqatil was still trapped in his thoughts. The weight of the decision was suffocating him, like a stone on his chest. He knew what he had to do, but at the same time, he couldn't stop wondering if there was another way. The truth was that with every step he took in this world, the child he had been was fading away. The Zalos Empire was no place for a weak soul.

That afternoon, Hana entered the room, carrying a tray with food. Her steps were soft, almost stealthy, as if the air itself was afraid to disturb her. With the tray in her hands, she approached the table, letting the aroma of the stew fill the room. Alqatil watched every movement, as if he were witnessing a slow, painful performance, one he could not avoid.

However, when Hana bent down to place the plate and a fork fell from her hand, she stooped to pick it up, Alqatil's gaze shifted toward the tray. Something glinted. A metallic flash. A small knife, simple, but sharp. It was the only weapon she had at the moment.

His heart began to beat faster. It's now or never...

The temptation to take it overtook him, and without thinking any longer, his hand moved quickly. The coldness of the metal as it brushed his fingers felt deafening, an echo that pushed him to keep going. However, in the moment of grasping it, his mind entered into conflict.

Am I really going to do this?

His arm remained suspended, the knife trembling in his hand. Doubt enveloped him like a thick fog. The system had chosen him, had marked him. If he didn't do this, he wouldn't advance. He wouldn't have power. Without power, he'd be condemned. But there was something inside him urging him to stop. No, Hana didn't deserve this.

The servant, oblivious to his internal turmoil, stood up again, almost forgetting the small incident with the fallen fork. Her eyes stayed lowered, almost as if her soul had already abandoned the fight, trapped in some corner of her being.

Alqatil, however, couldn't take his eyes off the knife. His pulse quickened, and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. What would my mother do if she were here?

The system doesn't forgive... —he thought, the whisper resonating in his mind with unwavering strength.

With a final sigh, Alqatil closed his eyes for a moment. His entire being tensed, as if his body were waiting for a signal to move forward. And then, in a swift motion, he took the knife with both hands, the blade cutting through the air with a sound almost lethal.

Hana's gaze fixed on him, and as she realized what was happening, she slowly turned her face, her eyes rising from the floor. Alqatil felt the shame and guilt enveloping him. In the distance, his mind remembered the promise to his mother, the promise that still pulsed in his chest.

But the knife, the only tool he had at that moment, was ready to carry out what the system had demanded. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Alqatil's hand moved forward. The air thickened around him, and when he was finally close enough, he drove the knife into her stomach. There was no scream of pain. It wasn't necessary. The sound of the metal piercing flesh was the only thing he needed to hear to know there was no turning back.

Hana's cry, muffled and full of horror, broke him out of his trance. But it was already too late. In a matter of seconds, the guards stormed into the room, their torches lighting up the darkness, healing Alqatil's wounds with urgency. The servant's gaze, filled with fear and confusion, met his before they dragged her out of the room.

Alqatil stayed there, motionless, the blood still warm on his skin. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, and sweat covered his forehead. What have I done?

The question had no answer. The weight of his action crushed him. He had fulfilled the mission, but at what cost? He was no longer the child he had wished to be. The system had changed him forever, and the consequences of his decision would follow him wherever he went.

The echo of Hana's scream still rang in his ears. And as he remained alone in the room, the truth settled in his chest like a dead weight: there was no turning back.

Two days later...

The news spread quickly throughout the castle, a flurry of rumors that set the tongues of the nobles and servants alike on fire. Hana, the servant, had been accused of attempting to assassinate the young prince. The rumor of her betrayal had shaken the empire like an earthquake. Though Alqatil had orchestrated everything meticulously, the weight of the guilt still tormented him. The system showed no mercy; his role was clear: a villain, with no possible redemption.

—It was concluded that she was a murderer —announced the executioner in a firm and mechanical voice—, and therefore, she will be decapitated, with her head hung outside the castle, alongside that of her entire family.

The trial was a farce. The sentence, swift and fatal, was carried out without question. In the Zalos Empire, a prince's word was not to be disputed; it was law. The cries of despair and pleas for mercy were drowned out by the laughter of the nobles and the indifference of the guards, while four chained bodies were dragged to the scaffold, stripped of all dignity, reduced to mere playthings of cruel fate.

Hana, her husband, and her two young children were condemned to death, without remedy, without hope.

—This family is accused of multiple crimes: tax evasion, attempted murder against a prince, poisoning, among others... —enumerated the executioner, his tone devoid of any human emotion.

The nobles, seated in their chairs with wine glasses in hand, could not hide their laughter. Some joked among themselves, viewing the execution as simple amusement, as though it were a play with no consequences. A couple of noblewomen covered their mouths, but their laughter filtered through their fingers.

—EXECUTE THEM! —shouted the executioner, his voice echoing in the tense air.

The axe fell with a dry and horrifying sound. The father's head rolled across the ground with a macabre slowness, his face still reflecting the surprise of the betrayal. The crowd erupted in cheers, some throwing rotten fruit at the corpse, mocking its fall. The nobles raised their glasses, toasting to the spilled blood, and the laughter rang out like a macabre symphony.

Hana, her face as pale as death itself, could barely understand what had happened. Horror had stolen her breath. Before the executioner reached her, her lips moved, in a barely audible whisper.

—Forgive me for not being stronger, my loves...

The next blow was merciless. Hana's head fell to the ground, and her eyes bid farewell to this world with a final empty expression as her ring fell, revealing a name—her husband's. The crowd cheered, celebrating the victory of power over the weak, while the children screamed in terror, clinging to each other.

The executioner did not hesitate. With a swift and remorse-less motion, the two children met the same fate. The axe rose once more, and in the blink of an eye, the children's heads were severed from their bodies. Blood stained the ground, and the crowd did nothing but laugh and celebrate.

The bodies of the condemned were dragged without mercy, hung one by one, like trophies in a macabre parade, for the entire empire to see the price of betrayal.

In the castle, Alqatil watched the execution from a window, his eyes fixed on the courtyard. The scene enveloped him, but his body didn't respond. He couldn't look away, as though an invisible force was forcing him to witness the suffering. Fear paralyzed him, the same feeling he had experienced in his past life, when he became someone unrecognizable.

The echo of the crowd's laughter and cheers filled his ears, and though the spectacle was horrifying, he couldn't shake the feeling that something inside him was breaking. I'm no different from them... he thought. Fear coursed through him like a shadow, the same darkness that had devoured him in his past life.

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Mission Successful

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Collateral Damage: 58% ─ Ruined Lives: 11.

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Reward: Status Unlocked. +10 Attribute Points.

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[Congratulations, host. You have proven to be a villain. Enjoy your rewards.] said the cold voice of the system, like yet another sentence, like a mockery.

Alqatil tried to ignore the words of the system, but the weight of Hana and her family's image crushed his chest. It didn't matter that he had completed the mission. The laughter of the nobles still echoed in his mind. Is this what I am now?

—Status —he whispered, trying to distract himself with something else, though he knew it was useless.

The system responded instantly:

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Name: Alqatil Zolenos

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Age: 2 years

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Level: 0

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Attributes

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Destiny = 1000 (normal: 100) (protagonist: 10000+) (heroine: 5000+)

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Abilities

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Status Level 1 (this will show more attributes and concepts the more it is used).

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—What...? —murmured Alqatil, looking at the system interface with confusion, but without fully understanding it.

Despite the reward the system offered, the emptiness inside him remained. He had completed his mission, yes. But the price had been too high. The weight of his actions would consume him, and the image of Hana and her family, executed without reason, would haunt him on his journey toward power.