THE KING WHO HAD NO MAGIC

CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST SPARK OF DEFIANCE

The sound of snapping twigs and the arrogant hum of mana-batteries cut through the silence of the clearing. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. Why would they? To them, I was just a carcass waiting to be tallied.

"Check the ravine," a voice commanded. It was Julian. I’d broken his chin in the trials, but clearly, the royal healers had been busy. "Malakor wants a finger or a tooth. Something to show the King that the 'error' has been erased."

"I hope the hounds left enough of him for us to have some fun," another voice chimed in. Marcus. He sounded bored. "It’s a waste of a good afternoon, hunting a man with no mana."

I stood behind a veil of thick mist, less than ten feet from them. Thanks to the Null-Pattern, I was a hole in the world. They looked right at the space I occupied and saw nothing but fog.

"You find it yet?" Julian shouted.

"Nothing but dead hounds," a third knight called out, his voice trembling. "Julian... something’s wrong. These beasts didn't just die. They look like they’ve been... emptied."

I stepped out of the shadow, my movement fluid and silent. I didn't have a voice to speak with, but I had plenty to show.

"Boo," I mouthed.

Julian spun around, his hand flying to the hilt of his enchanted longsword. "Who’s there?"

I didn't answer. I slammed my palm into the chest plate of his armor. I didn't use force; I used the hunger. The moment my skin touched the silver-plated mana-steel, the blue glow of his protection charms flickered.

"What are you doing?" Julian hissed, drawing his blade. The steel glowed with a fierce light. "Jack? Is that you? How are you still standing?"

I pointed at his chest. The silver was turning grey, becoming brittle.

"My armor... it’s draining!" Julian screamed. "Marcus! Varick! He’s doing something to the mana!"

"He’s a commoner, you idiot! He can't use magic!" Marcus roared, charging at me with a heavy claymore. "Die, you gutter-rat!"

I didn't flinch. I moved into the 'dead space' Silas had taught me. Marcus’s blade swung through the air where my head had been a second before. As he overextended, I gripped his gauntlet.

The sensation was electric. The mana powering his strength-enhancement charms rushed up my arm like a cold river. I felt my muscles tighten, my senses sharpening to a razor edge. Marcus gasped, his knees buckling as his 'indestructible' armor became nothing more than heavy, useless tin.

"He's eating it!" Varick yelled, staying back and raising his staff. "He’s a Void-mancer! Kill him now!"

Varick unleashed a bolt of pure lightning. It was a kill-shot.

I didn't dodge. I held up the shard of the wooden practice blade. The wood, now reinforced with the essence of the hounds, acted like a lightning rod. It sucked the bolt out of the air, the dark grain glowing a violent purple.

"My turn," I thought.

I lunged. I wasn't fast—I was instantaneous. I slammed the glowing wood into Varick’s staff. The explosion of feedback threw him twenty feet into a tree. His staff shattered into splinters.

"Stay back!" Julian shrieked, his voice cracking. He was the only one left standing, his expensive armor now a rusted, dull grey. He swung his sword wildly. "I am a high-born noble of the House of Valerius! You can't touch me!"

I walked toward him, the mist parting around me like a loyal dog.

"You’re nothing!" Julian screamed, his eyes wide with terror. "You're a hollow! A freak! Malakor will have your head on a spike for this!"

He lunged with a desperate thrust. I caught the blade with my bare hand. The enchanted edge should have lopped my fingers off, but the moment the metal touched my palm, the enchantment died. The sword became a blunt piece of iron.

I twisted the weapon out of his hand, the metal groaning under my new-found strength. I kicked his lead-weighted boots out from under him and watched him hit the mud.

I stood over him, the tip of his own glowing sword—now humming with the dark energy I’d fed it—pressed firmly against the soft skin of his throat.

Julian looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. "Please... Jack... we were friends once. I was just following orders."

I leaned in, my shadow falling over him like a shroud. I couldn't speak, but the void in my chest pulsed with a rhythmic, terrifying heat. I used the sword's tip to lift his chin, forcing him to look into my eyes—eyes that I knew were no longer human.

I mouthed four words, the intent so strong he could practically hear them in his soul.

Who’s the Hollow now?

Julian’s eyes rolled back in his head as he realized the sword was beginning to glow brighter, feeding on the very life force he had left.

"Wait," he whispered, staring past me at the tree line. "What is that?"

The forest behind us didn't just go silent; it went dead. A cold, black wind began to howl, and the scarecrows in the clearing above began to scream in a language that didn't belong to the living.

I didn't turn around. I kept the blade at his throat, but I felt it. Something was coming that made the "Cull-Squad" look like children playing with sticks.

"Jack..." Julian whimpered, his face turning as white as the mist. "Look behind you. Please. Look behind you."

The tattoo of the thorned crown on my arm began to burn with a blinding, golden light, searing through my sleeve.