Lord of the Time: I Can Reincarnate Infinitely

In the grand hall of the royal palace, The King sat upon his opulent golden throne, flanked by two enigmatic women. One, with flowing ebony hair and piercing blue eyes, stood to his left, while the other, with a regal bearing and silver locks, graced his right side. Both women exuded an air of ethereal beauty, their presence a stark contrast to the imposing figure of the monarch.

The King himself was a commanding figure, his countenance obscured by a heavy crown that bore the weight of authority. He wore robes adorned with intricate designs, a symbol of his regal stature. His eyes, however, remained concealed beneath a veil of detached indifference.

Seated opposite The King was his trusted Advisor, a figure accustomed to the weight of the crown's decisions. The Advisor, clad in ceremonial attire, bore the burden of delivering reports and seeking royal counsel.

"Your Majesty," the Advisor began, voice respectful but tinged with trepidation, "I bring tidings of the successful eradication of the Apokalips from the Wall of Rose. The royal army's two-year operation has purged the region of these creatures, securing the safety of our city."

The King's response was measured, his gaze unfocused as if peering into realms beyond. "Good," he murmured, the word carrying more dismissal than approval.

Encouraged by the seemingly indifferent acknowledgment, the Advisor continued, "In light of the cleared Wall of Rose, what plans does Your Majesty have for the reclaimed territory?"

The King, without shifting his gaze, outlined his vision with an air of detached authority. "Build a clinic to tend to the wounded. Establish a marketplace to invigorate trade. Allocate a hundred acres for agriculture to ensure sustenance for our people. And construct secret laboratories for future endeavors."

The mention of secret laboratories drew a noticeable shiver from the Advisor, but The King remained stoic. His plans, though seemingly benevolent on the surface, hinted at ambitions far beyond the immediate needs of the city.

As The King spoke, the women by his side remained statuesque, their expressions inscrutable. The ebony-haired woman's eyes gleamed with sorrow, while the silver-haired companion exuded an aura of silent vigilance.

The Advisor, aware of the gravity of The King's directives, nodded dutifully. "Your Majesty's will shall be carried out with utmost diligence."

With a wave of The King's hand, the audience concluded, and the Advisor withdrew from the regal presence.

...

The Advisor stumbled out of the grand chamber, his legs giving way beneath him as he collapsed onto the cold, marbled floor. The weight of the king's indifferent commands bore down on him, and he found himself gasping for breath in the dimly lit corridor.

Cold sweat dripped down his face, mingling with the tears that welled up in his eyes. The once-respected figure in the royal court was reduced to a quivering mess on the ground, a broken soul grappling with the burden of secrecy and the callousness of the monarchy.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Cursing vehemently under his breath, the Advisor muttered about the king's heartless decisions. The mention of secret laboratories fueled his despair, and he couldn't help but envision the ominous experiments that might unfold within those concealed walls. Cloning and gene fusion, experiments that tampered with the very essence of humanity, seemed to loom over his conscience like a shadow.

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Speaking to the empty air around him, the Advisor poured out his anguish. "How many innocents will suffer as guinea pigs to the king's ambitions? Children, families... sacrificed for his insatiable thirst for power!"

His voice, filled with bitterness and sorrow, echoed through the desolate corridor. The air seemed to absorb his laments, carrying the weight of the atrocities he foresaw in the name of progress.

As he spoke, the Advisor's words turned to self-deprecation. "Useless," he whispered as if conversing with an invisible confidante. "I'm powerless. I can't stop the king, can't protect those who will fall victim to his ambitions."

Tears streamed down his face, leaving wet trails on his cheeks. In that moment of vulnerability, the once-confident Advisor was laid bare, grappling with his own impotence in the face of a ruler who seemed impervious to compassion.

The grandeur of the royal palace, with its towering walls and opulent chambers, felt like a gilded cage, trapping not only the Advisor's body but also his conscience.

...

The aroma of the evening's meal wafted through the air, a tantalizing mix of spices and flavors that filled the room. Caleb sat around the makeshift wooden table with Kidd, Kazuto, Rekka, and Rozho. The room, though simple, was filled with warmth and the comforting clinks of utensils against plates.

On the table, a feast unfolded – a motley assortment of dishes that mirrored the diversity of the group. Steaming bowls of miso soup nestled beside plates piled high with sushi rolls, each piece a miniature work of art. There were delicate slices of sashimi, glistening with freshness, and mounds of rice adorned with vibrant, pickled vegetables.

Caleb marveled at the spread, appreciating the effort that went into the meal. The culinary skills of his companions were on full display, transforming basic ingredients into a gastronomic delight. As he reached for a piece of tempura, the crisp coating gave way to succulent shrimp within. He couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the shared moments of respite in the midst of their busy schedules.

Mid-bite, a sudden tickle in Caleb's throat turned the pleasurable experience into a moment of panic. He coughed, eyes watering as he struggled to regain composure. The others paused, concern etched across their faces.

"Whoa, you alright there, Johan?" Kidd asked, patting him on the back.

Caleb nodded, still recovering from the unexpected bout of coughing. "Yeah, yeah. Must've gone down the wrong pipe or something."

As he took a sip of water to soothe his throat, a mischievous grin played across Kazuto's face. "Maybe someone's talking about you behind your back, mate."

Unbeknownst to them, the Dukes and the authoritative figures were really talking about Caleb, considering whether to let him live or weed him out while he was still in the development phase.

The comment elicited a chuckle from the group, and Caleb rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "Yeah, yeah. Probably some Apokalips gossiping about the guy who makes them look bad."

"Dude... Apokalips don't have the same vocal chords as us..."

Laughter erupted around the table...