The road to the white castle was paved with mockingly soft turf. My steel-shod boots sank into it, robbing my stride of its usual, commanding thud. The Seal on my chest burned against my skin—it could sense that this world wasn't resisting my invasion, and the lack of friction was driving it mad. How can you conquer something that refuses to raise a shield?
We marched past gardens that my men continued to torch under my command. Black smoke, smelling of burnt sugar, choked the sky, creating at least some semblance of the war-torn landscape I was used to.
"Sir Adel, look!" Eli pointed a trembling finger ahead.
At the side of the road, beneath the shade of a silver-barked tree, sat an old man. He didn't look like a monster. He wore a simple tunic and held a wooden jug in his hands. As we approached, he stood up. His movements were slow, lacking the sharp precision I took such pride in.
"Peace be with you, travelers," he said. His voice didn't shake with fear. There was no groveling. "The day is hot, and you are encased in iron. Drink some water from the Spring of Memory."
He held out the jug. I froze.
My logic dictated a trap. This was an ambush, or poison, or some magical snare designed to foul my purity. But something else flared up inside me—a raw fury that this old man dared to look me directly in the eye through the slits of my helmet. He didn't see a god, or the punishing hand of heaven. He saw... a passerby.
With a sharp motion, I struck the jug from his hands. The wood cracked, and water splashed over my greaves, mixing with the dust and ash.
"I didn't come here for your charity, demon," my voice boomed from behind my visor, amplified by the Seal's magic. "I came for the head of your King. Point the way to the throne if you want your death to be quick."
The old man looked at the broken jug, then back at me. In his golden eyes, something flickered that I couldn't categorize. Was it pity?
"The path is before you, Adel of House Granz," he said quietly. "But you search for an enemy where there is none. Your most terrifying opponent always wears your own face. The castle is open. We have no keys because we lock nothing away."
He turned and walked away into the depths of the burning garden. He didn't even look back.
I could feel my knights exchanging glances behind me. I felt their hesitation. Their faith in our "holy mission" was cracking because reality refused to be evil.
"Forward!" I barked, and there was more desperation in that shout than I cared to admit. "It's an illusion! He's trying to confuse us with words! To the castle!"
We reached the main gates an hour later. They were indeed wide open. No guards, no portcullis, no boiling oil. Only white columns and an endless, crushing silence broken only by the clank of our armor.
In the vast vestibule, bathed in light from the skylights above, I saw him again.
The boy from the ship. The "gray noise." The zero.
He was standing by a mosaic wall, examining the image of some constellation. He looked sickeningly at home here. His simple shirt harmonized with the white marble far better than my "astral silver" ever could. He didn't even turn his head when we entered.
I marched past him, intentionally clipping his shoulder. This time, I wanted him to fall. I wanted him to feel the physical weight of my Pride.
But he only swayed slightly, like a willow branch in the wind, and went back to studying the mosaic. He wasn't an enemy. He wasn't an ally. He was a void in which my brilliance was drowning.
"You," I spat, stopping in my tracks. "Why are you here? Who permitted you to enter the enemy's halls before me?"
He turned his head slowly. His blue eyes were clear and empty, like a winter morning.
"There are no doors here, Adel," he replied. His voice was plain, unremarkable. "That means anyone can enter. Even you."
He turned back to the wall.
I gripped the hilt of my rapier so hard the metal of my gauntlet groaned. The mathematics of my world were collapsing. A "one" could not be less than a "zero." A hero could not be secondary to a vagabond.
"Watch him, Eli," I snapped to my squire. "If he takes a single step toward the throne room—kill him."
I headed for the high doors at the end of the hall. I strode toward my goal, never noticing that behind my back, the "gray backdrop" simply sat down on a step and pulled another apple from his pocket.
I was Adel von Granz. And I was going to make this castle tremble—even if I had to tear it down stone by stone just to get this universe to notice me.