SCHOOL LIBRARY – AFTER SCHOOL HOURS.
Paul's fingers brushed across rows of dusty books.
The school day had ended hours ago, but he didn't feel like going home. Not yet.
He stopped when his finger touched a thick red book. Old, worn-out edges. Smelled like stories that shouldn't be remembered.
"The Last King," it read. By The Traveller.
He raised a brow. "Never heard of it."
He took it, found a seat near the corner — away from the handful of students still here, pretending to study.
The place was dead quiet. Just the hum of the ceiling fan and the scratch of someone's pencil.
He flipped the first page.
The story is based on real-world history, it said.
Alexander II — the son of the first god.
Paul raised a brow. Son of god, huh.
He kept reading anyway. The book talked about how a fifteen-year-old became king, changed the world, rewrote what it meant to rule.
After him, no one was called "King" again. Not because he was too great — but because he ruined the idea of kings completely.
Paul turned the page.
CHAPTER ONE — After the Chaos
"Here you are."
He didn't even need to look.
He knew that voice.
She walked right up to him — loud steps, no care for library rules. Like she owned the damn place.
Mia.
He didn't respond. Didn't even glance up, pretending to read.
"Whatcha reading?" Her voice still loud enough to turn a few heads.
Paul's eyes finally lifted — not at her, but past her, toward the librarian giving her a death stare.
"Oh," she muttered, realizing. "Yeah, right. Library. My bad."
She lowered her voice a bit, leaned forward. "Still didn't answer me though."
Paul finally looked at her. "What you doing here?"
"Me?" She blinked, pretending to think. "Nothin' really. Just wasting time like you."
Paul tilted his head. Didn't buy it for a second. His silence pressed on her.
She made a small face — that "fine, I'll talk" kind of face.
"I was waiting for you at the gate," she said, sighing. "Thought maybe we go home together. But you were taking forever, so… yeah. I asked around. Someone said you came here. And boom — here you are."
She spread her hands like she solved a mystery.
Paul's gaze dropped back to the page. No reaction.
Mia puffed out her cheeks, annoyed. "Man, you could at least say something."
She leaned over the table, trying to peek at the book. "What is that? Thought you hated school crap."
Paul turned the cover toward her.
"The Last King," she read. "By… The Traveller? That's new."
She raised a brow. "So what, you into history now?"
"Not really," Paul said, closing the book halfway. "Thought I'd find something worth reading. Guess not."
Mia frowned. "You didn't like it? It's not bad, y'know. My dad used to talk about that story. Said it's half true."
Paul glanced up, suspicious. "You believe that?"
"Yeah, I do," she said, casual like it was nothing. "Everyone does. It's real — happened ages ago."
Paul's face twisted. "How the hell can someone rule the whole world? And this 'son of god' thing— c'mon. That's bedtime story garbage. You really think this crap happened for real? Like, in our world?"
Mia smirked, crossing her arms. "You weren't there, were you? So how would you know?"
Paul blinked. She wasn't wrong. And she said it with that same calm tone that made him second-guess everything.
She leaned a little closer, voice softer. "Look, I get it. It sounds stupid. Son of God, perfect king, all that old fairytale junk. But if you read about his father — Alexander the First — you'd get it. Guy wasn't normal either."
"Then who was Alexander the First?" Paul asked, trying to sound casual — like he didn't care.
But she saw through it. That flicker in his eyes. Curiosity, the kind that doesn't show up often. Maybe the first time. Maybe the last.
"Hmm…" Mia tilted her head, pretending to think. "Let's see. I don't remember every single thing, 'cause I read it way back in middle school. But—" she snapped her fingers, "it went something like this."
"Alexander the First was the second son of King Rybak — some royal family that ruled a massive kingdom. His first wife couldn't give birth for years, so the King married another one. Then, guess what?"
She leaned in, lowering her voice like she was telling a secret.
"Just a few months after that marriage, the first wife got pregnant. Everyone thought the heavens finally heard them. She gave birth to a prince but… the baby came out already dead."
Paul's brow twitched.
"Then," she continued, "a year later, the second queen gave birth too — and that's where Alexander the First came in. A living, breathing heir. The miracle child."
Mia's tone softened, eyes wandering like she was replaying the story in her head. "Time passed. The royal family started falling apart. People whispered that the King's 'dead' child wasn't really dead. Then one night, boom — the King was assassinated. Poison, dagger, curse, whatever. Nobody really knows. But Alexander fled the castle before they could get him too."
She looked at Paul and caught him mid-yawn.
"Seriously?" she frowned. "I'm dropping some royal blood drama here, and you're bored?"
Paul stretched his arms lazily. "Nah, I'm listening. Go on."
Mia sighed, but continued anyway. "So after the prince escaped, he hid among commoners. Gathered the loyalists his father left behind. Years passed. He trained, learned, and built power. Said to have the blessing of the gods — the kind of thing that makes people follow you without question. When he was ready, he tried to talk peace with other rulers, but no one listened. No allies. No mercy. But he didn't give up."
She paused for a beat, then added, "They say the gods themselves started speaking to him. Whispering to him. Telling him what to do, where to strike. They called it the Voice of the Outer Gods."
Paul's hand twitched on the table. "Wait."
"What?" she asked, confused.
He squinted at her. "Wasn't Alexander the First supposed to be the first god? So how the hell was he hearing voices from other gods? Who the hell's running the show then?"
Mia blinked, annoyed. "Will you just shut up and let me finish? Damn. You're worse than my cousin when she's watching dramas."
Paul smirked a little but didn't interrupt again.
She brushed her hair from her face, exhaled through her nose, then dove back in. "So—after no one gave him help, Alexander finally snapped. He declared that he'd take what was rightfully his. Said everyone who stood against him would bow at his feet. Kid wasn't even twenty. Imagine that—barely our age, talking like a god already."
Paul tilted his head, but she kept going, her hands moving with the rhythm of the story.
"No one believed him, obviously. He was young, and the other kings had seen wars, death, betrayal… they thought he was just another ambitious brat. But then—" she paused, lowering her voice a little, "—it happened. The creatures of the abyss started appearing. Ripping through villages, burning cities that used to belong to his father. The world went to hell. And everyone who'd laughed at him before? They started praying instead."
Paul muttered, "He wasn't a king. He was a tyrant."
Mia's eyes flicked toward him but she didn't argue. "After the chaos ended, that old kingdom—the one that once belonged to his father—was weak, broken. The king was dead, and the prince who replaced him was basically an idiot. Then this man appeared—someone who went around helping the poor, healing people, preaching about a god who would soon descend to cleanse the world. The people loved him. They followed him. But word got around, and the idiot prince panicked. He thought this guy would steal his throne."
She leaned back, lowering her tone again. "So, the court made up rumors—said the preacher was sleeping with young girls, using faith to take advantage of people. One night, soldiers dragged him away. They tortured him for days. And before long… they crucified him."
Paul blinked. "…That's it? That's how he died?"
Mia's lips curved. "You'd think so."
Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "First day, everything went quiet. Not just people — I mean the whole damn world. Birds, wind, even the air felt like it stopped breathing. Like... like something got ripped out of it. You could almost feel it, the silence. The kind that gets under your skin. And by night, people started whispering. 'He was the Son of God.' 'That the heavens cried for him.' You could hear it in every corner, spreading like smoke."
Her hands moved when she talked, sketching pictures in the air.
"Second day— the ones who followed him when he was alive started preaching his name. 'You killed God's only son,' they said. 'You are all sinners. His father will descend and judge you.' People were terrified. Even the ones who didn't believe started praying. Commoners, nobles, even royals — all begging to be forgiven. By dusk, half the world was kneeling under one name."
Paul's eyes had narrowed now, not mocking anymore—just listening.
"Then day three hits—" she snapped her fingers. "Boom. Chaos. Rallies, riots, whole cities going up in flames. Words were spread all around the globe. Kings, Rulers, everyone. All of em were panicking..." She slowed down for a beat. Voice low, "because it's Time. It was finnally the time to choose which side you gonna stand. Stand behind HIM? or stand against HIM? Either way both leads to the same road. Death' no middle ground."
Paul didn't say anything. Her tone had shifted again — faster, sharper.
Her hand trembled slightly, but she didn't stop.
"Fourth day..." her voice cracked, a strange energy rising in her words. "History calls it the most chaotic day ever recorded. I'd call it... the day the world ended. The cities burned. Mothers crying over their dead children, husbands executed in the streets. Blood–blood–blood. Nothing but blood. From rivers to the sky everything turned into blood red. Sea of corpses everywhere." She coughed slightly, catching her breath. "The creatures from the Abyss came crawling back. Volcanoes exploded, seas split apart, the land shook so bad you couldn't stand. And then—"
She raised her hand slowly, as if showing him. "The sun. It just... vanished. Like it gave up."
Paul felt a chill crawl up his neck.
"Day five—" She said softly. "nothing. Black. Like the whole world was holding its breath. The war was still going, people dying every second, and then—"
She stopped.
Her lips parted slightly, eyes wide with something between fear and awe.
"Light."
Her next words came out like a prayer.
"Everything froze. Time itself, they said. The world stopped. And then we felt it — his presence. The birth of a new god."
She smiled faintly — too calm now.
"He walked out of his grave. Bright as the sun. The ground stopped shaking. The oceans went still. The heavens opened — like they were waiting for him. They say the whole world was swallowed by that light. Everything gone. The old world burned away… and the new one began."
Her gaze finally snapped back to Paul.
"You'd have to see it," she whispered. "To really understand."
Her words lingered in the hush of the library, heavy and slow.
Paul looked down at the open book again. The last line on the page shimmered faintly under the light:
The King who rose from death shall never sleep again, until the world remembers his name.
He blinked once. Then twice. "What is he, Jesus Christ?"
"What—no." Mia said quickly. "Jesus Christ isn't even real, you know that. But people still believe in him, right?"
She shrugged, warming into the explanation. "Just like Christians follow Jesus, Muslims believe in Allah, Hindus follow Vishnu, Krishna, whoever. Same thing. It's all stories—mythology, if you wanna sound fancy."
"Still not buying it." Paul scoffed, already sounding done with this half-baked legend.
Mia trailed after him as he put the book back on the shelf. "Well, you didn't even finish it. Of course you'd say that."
Paul slid the book into place. "First of all—'The Last King' and 'The First God'? They're not the last or the first. How does that even make sense to you?"
"Yeah, yeah." She nodded, pretending to think it over. "It says The Last King because everyone after Alexander the Second wasn't treated like one. And Alexander the First—he wasn't the first God either, not technically. It's just that after him, temples, churches, all that junk started popping up. The world before him was blank—no history, no gods anyone could name. And about those 'outer gods'? Alexander became the god of our world, not theirs. You get what I'm saying?"
Paul walked toward the exit, hands in his pockets. "Yeah, pretty much."
"You're still not convinced, are you?" Mia said, pouting like a kid. "There's a whole mythology built on this. You think it's just a bedtime story?"
He almost said yeah, of course—but didn't.
"You should read it," she said. "All of it. Then you'll understand."
Paul glanced back once. "Guess so."