It was lonely.

  Well, loneliness was ihe stant panion of the so-called genius of the tury, Caliburn Soulnon Pendragon.

  He was the bonus child of Soulnaught Kingdom's royal line, a little extra curtsy in the family waltz.

  Illegitimate bastard.

  Yet, he was doted upon more than the official heir. Why, you ask? Well, the d had a knack for tyranny and ruthlesshat made Machiavelli look like a boy scout. He didn't suffer from bullying; he was the bully.

  You'd think ara kid in a royal family would be treated like an unsightly stain on the royal tapestry, but Caliburn? Oh, he was the designer's favorite.

  From the get-go, he swept through life's obstacles like a tornado on a mission. He wielded his power like a sledgehammer at a pi?ata party, smashing anyone foolhardy enough to cross him. But, let's not fet, it was a lonely gig.

  Sure, he was a kid navigating a shark tank, a mb in a lion's den, but by some ic joke, he was tougher than a two- steak.

  How did he bee so formidable? Oh, the usual way. He disassembled and restructed his body more times than an overzealous meic. He smashed his own limits into oblivion and then danced on their graves.

  He outwitted, outpyed, and outsted anyone who dared to challenge him. And then one day, the challengers stopped ing.

  By his tenth birthday, he was hailed as the prodigy Prince of Soulnaught. His father started to shower him with affe, the nobility fawned over him, and his legitimate brother? Well, he was relegated to the shadows, a fotten echo of what could have been.

  It was a shadow puppet show, really, with Caliburn pulling all the strings. And all the while, loneliness stood by, the silent audien his one-man show.

  Being on the very top could get pretty lonely. So, wheraterrestrial riff-raff decided to drop by for a visit invasion, Caliburn hoped he had finally found some worthy adversaries.

  Aliens, the final frontier, a ce to flex his muscles and push his limits. But as, it was like squashing bugs. Had the intergactivaders sent their junior varsity team? It seemed they were less "War of the Worlds" and more "Mars Attacks!"

  And theried to py dirty. How adorable—and ve!

  This provided the perfect excuse food old-fashioned war. Before the outsiders could stick a fg in his turf, Caliburn po uhe realm under his iron fist.

  And then, oh boy, he'd have a surprise for them. He'd be like an angry ndlord, evig them through that celestial crack they snu from… and with the excuse of paying them back, he would go after them and iheir realms too!

  Until Man Le Fay strutted onto the se.

  It was the first time for Burn, not being able to destroy his way into things. A curveball Burn wasn't expeg. She utterly defeated him with her absolute time magid she cimed it wasn't even her A-game.

  “The spell wasn’t perfect,” she said.

  For the first time, Caliburn found himself on the backfoot. Suddenly, the top of the hill didn't feel so lonely anymore.

  Thus…

  BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSST!

  He couldn’t sit on his limit anymore. He o find a taller hill. A much steeper and much slipperier than before.

  After that, a cliff, and a mighty mountain.

  “HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

  Staring down the business end of the White Dwarf's power output, a mere 2% of its fury being unleashed by the user and his cheerleading squad of warriors, Burn stood.

  He used his Force to shield and soak up as much of the bst as possible, like a spohen recycled it into an energy smoothie for his defense meism.

  His arms felt like they were auditioning for a dle's role, melting uhe heat, and his sword's tip started to crad dull like an overused pencil.

  But with a little help from his Force, he kept boung back like a determined rubber ball. Regeion, the power that kept on giving, again, and again, and again.

  The heat was like an open invitation to a hellish barbecue, the kind of heat that makes you believe in those stories about hell being a living, breathi. And there Burn was, having a face-to-face meet and greet with the beast.

  Why didn't he dodge or deflect? Simple. The realm of hermere might have been a magical powerhouse, but it was still as vulnerable as a sandcastle against a tidal wave he White Dwarf.

  So, Burhe sacrificial mb, trying to absorb every bit of the bst, making sure not even a whiff of it escaped to punch a hole in the sky.

  But it ure heat he against, and even Burn wasn't a bottomless pit. In the midst of this ic chaos, time had a funny way of stretg itself out. A split sed felt like a lifetime, and Burn was getting a crash course in pain ma.

  His flesh was ripped apart, revealing bone bed and exposed. Quite a day at the office, wouldn't you say?

  This was nothing pared to what he had been through.

  Like always, he just had to stay firm.

  2%? One day, he would go and take on a 100%, or even a 1000%!

  Wait.

  He clearly heard them using 2%, but wasn’t this a bit…

  Had his Forhanced hearing failed him earlier?

  “GODDAMNIT, IT’S 3%, ISN’T IT!?”

  “No way, is he also good at math?” the White Dwarf’s user muttered as he heard Burn’s scream in the middle of the bst. Even in that situation, his Forhanced voice rang in his and his subordinates’ ears.

  “ander, our ship has—!”

  “Wait, if we hear his voice, does it means he also hear our—”

  Burn’s Force spread around the viity—and nothing could escape his surveilnce.

  And in that sed, Burn deflected a portion of the bst to a certain dire.

  BLAAAAAAAAAAST!!!

  Out of nowhere, an invisible spaceship that had been creeping clot a rude awakening. A stray bst, courtesy of Burn's defle, caught it square in the crosshairs.

  Imagine a pile of leaves, meticulously gathered by a gardener after a diligent wn up, being caught in a hurrie. That's how quickly the spaceship crumbled into ic dust.

  It didn't stand a ot even a fighting one. And then, as if the universe hadn't had its fill of fireworks, a massive explosioed.

  The spaceship's cloak of invisibility shattered like a broken mirror, scattering shards of unseen energy.

  And the gardener, who had meticulously gathered the leaves in the perfect spot, now turo face the hurrie. They hadn't realized that each of their arms had been severed. Not to mention, the White Dwarf had bee up by the same hurrie.

  Burn stood before their faces of horror, his body slowly regeing after fag the deadly bst. His face was still hollow, with only his eyeballs staring at them in absolute disdain.

  Sadly, the man had lost his cheek to grin and snarkily announce his victory—or so they thought.

  Using his Force, he maniputed the sound ing out of his throat to form words, even though his throat was left with only ks of flesh and matter.

  "Don't worry. Our physis reattach your limbs."

  Burn pointed his intact sword forward, towards the ander's throat. "I like you. We should have a talk."

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  Who said I need sleep? I DON'T NEED SLEEP! Let's tinue writing!

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