Opening the doors of his dark lair, the decrepit king, in his thousands of years of artificially extended life, dealt with the high cost of his actions and his long life. None of his subjects even resembled those who initially helped build the castle, build the catacombs where his wife was buried, or even served him in his countless battles. There was no longer any merit in his actions, only the production and distribution of coins and the administration of taxes were his competence now. Long life, which had been the old man's great temptation, now took its toll...

The king was tired. His wrinkled neck ached, and his bones were so thin he could feel the wind in his bones. He descends the stairs slowly, feeling the weight of his body with each step he descends as he slowly walks up the long side stairs. The dark walls of thousands of years that he had seen being built were now covered in mold and insects of all sizes and species. Every crevice and window in the tower, which once showed a thriving kingdom, now show what had been built on the ruins of his beloved kingdom.

Ruins... It all came down to this... What's the point of living forever if you only share your life with the destruction of what's left of your conquests?

The king arrives at the foot of the tower, where two servants await him. These cover him with their crimson robes as they assist the elder to ascend his throne once more. Not even the throne was the same, it had already been replaced at least twenty times. If everything had been changed, what made that old realm the same as the old man watched?

Eternal life... A temptation that since ancient times all monarchs, sages and warriors wanted, a forbidden desire that, even if they thought it was impossible, everyone sought. A pitiful and damned day that that old hag sold the monarch the concoction that allowed him to see more than anyone else, and that allowed her body to last for so many ages.

His subjects behold him with trivial matters such as land disputes and accountability. How boring... How tired...

The king's sorcerer arrived again with the daily cup of the solution that kept the monarch still alive. This time, he refused. It is enough to artificially prolong life. That didn't make sense anymore, after all, everyone he loved had been dead for centuries...

"What did it cost me?" thought the king. "What cost the long life I so longed for?"

He cost death. Not the death of the body, but the death of your feelings, and of your will to live. For generations this has been maintained so as not to weaken his kingdom, but an old man, even if he delays, always falls into decay.

"My time has come... Just remember all I sacrificed for you..."

Many subjects, despite clearly realizing the decadence of the former monarch and fully understanding the pain he felt, still felt immensely dejected by the end of the life of the one who ruled them for so many ages. He deserved the rest, after all.

The monarch asks for help to get up. When he raises the wrinkled body again, he feels that he could still keep himself alive if he wanted to. But the king had no plans to prolong his life for another day. Instead, he whispered something in the sorcerer's ear, which turned paler than usual. The atmosphere fills with tension as the man turns his back and returns with a small vial of greenish gray powder on top of a tray.

As he picks up the vial, the king feels that this will be the final scene of his long life. But he didn't want a simple end. He longed to walk out of this life into the next in a great show. Immediately, with a gesture of his bony hand, the king orders that the nobles of the room be executed immediately, an order that is carried out by the countless royal guards who were in the same room of your majesty. When the ground begins to acquire a crimson hue from the mixture between the bodily fluids of those who had lost their heads, the frightening and demonic laugh of the one who had seen thousands of lives taken by the countless wars he had fought. The king's face contorted into a devilish, bloodthirsty expression not seen in over a thousand years, as he drew a long dagger from his robes from his cloak and addressed the last living nobleman, piercing his chest in motion. almost impossible for a man as old as the kingdom itself.

With his body completely smeared with blood, as he watched his subjects futilely try to flee, he orders the slaughter to stop, and that only those who lived at the expense of his legacy go to the afterlife along with him. The soldiers obey the order without question as the king approaches the few workers, farmers, and cults in the precinct, pats the younger ones on the head, and utters sweet words in a long-forgotten dialect. The subjects are filled with horror as they realize that the murders that took place a few minutes ago meant nothing to the mad and cruel monarch who was in front of him. But no one dared to try to stop him, for the penalty would be hundreds or even thousands of times worse than death itself.

The monarch opens the doors to the old hall as he gulps down the dust. Those who stood in front of the millenary doors of the old castle, unaware of the slaughter that had taken place a few minutes before, were horrified to see the king and his loyal soldiers covered in dark blood.

The king is deeply filled with joy. That scene would be remembered for as many millennia as he had lived. Now he could leave in peace.

His body falls to the ground, completely lifeless, amid expressions of surprise and fear from those around him. Finally, it's over.