The Path Of A True King.-Chapter 26: Will.

Chapter 66

Elijah sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together in a death grip.

The dim glow of his bedside lamp flickered against the walls, casting long, restless shadows that twisted and danced like specters whispering his darkest thoughts.

His muscles ached—a dull, gnawing soreness that echoed the brutal fight he had barely walked away from.

But that wasn’t the weight pressing down on his chest.

He had killed someone.

The memory replayed in his mind like a scratched record, skipping, looping, refusing to fade.

The man’s eyes, his breath hitching in that final moment.

The way his body slumped, lifeless.

The sickening warmth of blood staining his hands.

The silence that followed.

At the time, it had been pure instinct.

His heart hammering, his body moving, every action fueled by the desperate will to survive.

But now, alone in the confines of his dimly lit room, reality had settled in like an uninvited guest refusing to leave.

He let out a breath, but it came out shaky.

His mind was not his own anymore.

There was another voice lurking within it, one that had been growing louder ever since the fight.

"That man had a family," the voice murmured, not Alter Elijah, but something else. Something cold.

"Do you think he fought just for fun? Or do you think, like you, he was trying to protect the people he cared about?"

Elijah clenched his jaw. "I had no choice."

"No choice? And who made you judge, jury, and executioner?" The voice echoed in the empty room.

"No matter the reason, you took a life. Whether it was for power, survival, revenge—it doesn’t matter. You are the same as those you condemn."

"You are a murderer, Elijah.

No matter how you try to justify your actions, the blood on your hands tells the truth.

You’ve taken lives, and there’s no erasing that.

You stand here thinking you’re different, but in reality, you’re no better than the gang leaders you claim to despise.

The same cruelty, the same disregard for life—it’s all there, reflected in your actions.

You’ve become exactly what you once swore to fight against.

Tell me, Elijah, how does it feel to carry the weight of the lives you’ve stolen?

Elijah squeezed his eyes shut.

His heart pounded against his ribs, as if trying to escape the cage of his own guilt.

A long silence stretched before he whispered, "Then so be it."

The voice went quiet for a moment, as if considering his response.

"I know what I am," Elijah continued, eyes still closed. "A murderer. And if that’s the price of protecting the people I love, then I’ll pay it."

A chuckle echoed in his mind, but this time, it was Alter Elijah. "Now that’s an answer I can respect."

A knock on the door made him jolt upright.

"Elijah?"

His sister’s voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. He turned to see Amy standing at the doorway, arms crossed, her red eyes narrowing at him.

"You look like you lost a fight against a truck," she deadpanned.

A weak chuckle escaped him despite himself. "And yet, here I am, still standing."

Amy sighed and stepped into the room, plopping onto his bed without hesitation. "Mom said you didn’t eat dinner. That’s not normal."

He glanced at the clock. It was past ten. He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. "Wasn’t hungry."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Liar. You could finish an entire buffet and still be looking for dessert."

Elijah smirked, but it faded quickly.

She wasn’t stupid.

She knew something was wrong.

Amy scooted closer, studying him carefully. "You’re not telling me something."

He hesitated.

What could he say?

That he had blood on his hands?

That he felt both guilt and relief, like a battle raging inside him?

Amy suddenly flicked his forehead.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing the spot.

"That’s what you get for ignoring me," she said, arms still crossed.

"I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t sit here brooding like some tragic movie character. It’s annoying."

Elijah huffed out a quiet laugh. "I didn’t know you were so violent."

Amy shrugged. "Only when my big brother is acting like a dumbass."

Silence hung between them before she spoke again, her tone softer. "Just don’t shut me out, okay?"

Elijah looked at her.

Really looked at her.

His sister, just twelve, already carrying the weight of their reality on her small shoulders.

She had their mother’s resilience, their father’s stubbornness.

And, more than anything, she had faith in him.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Alright," he said finally. "I won’t."

Amy grinned. "Good. Now, let’s do something fun."

Elijah arched a brow. "Fun?"

She nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You owe me, remember? For leaving me at Grandma’s for so long."

Elijah groaned. "That was only two weeks."

Amy huffed. "Felt like years."

He sighed, standing up and stretching, wincing at the soreness in his body. "Fine. What do you want to do?"

A wicked grin spread across Amy’s face. "Video games."

Elijah dragged a hand down his face. "You just want to destroy me again, don’t you?"

"Obviously."

Despite everything—the blood, the violence, the weight of his choices—there was still this.

A moment of peace.

A fleeting reminder of the life he was fighting to protect.

Maybe—just maybe—that was enough to keep moving forward.

Amy booted up the console, tossing him a controller.

He barely caught it in time.

The screen lit up with their favorite fighting game.

"Prepare to lose," Amy declared, cracking her knuckles dramatically.

Elijah smirked, a flicker of his usual self returning. "We’ll see about that."

The match began, their characters clashing in bursts of light and rapid button presses.

For a brief moment, nothing else mattered.

The past was unchangeable.

The future, uncertain.

But in a world that seemed determined to see him suffer, Elijah vowed to protect those he cared about—no matter the cost.

Yet deep down, he knew the truth.

Shielding them from his world would only put them in even greater danger.

No risk, no reward.

You don’t gain something without losing something.

To be king is to stand against the will of others—against the will of the world itself.

But the world would fight back.

And so would those who refused to bow.