My Free Will System: Transmigrating Into My Favorite Immersion Game

Elias stood in the grand, shadowed throne room, his eyes locked onto King Alaric, whose regal form was now twisted by a dark, demonic presence. The once-noble king sat upon his throne with an eerie stillness, his eyes glowing a sickly red that betrayed the malevolence within.

The air around him seemed to hum with a sinister energy, thick and oppressive, pressing down on Elias like a suffocating shroud.

King Alaric leaned forward, a twisted grin playing on his lips. "What are you waiting for, Elias?" he taunted, his voice a haunting echo that reverberated through the chamber. "Every moment you hesitate, the Flarefolk inch closer to their doom. They don't have much time left, and you know it."

Elias felt a jolt of shock, his composure momentarily faltering. His heart raced as he processed Alaric's words, and his mind whirled with the implications. The Flarefolk were still alive? He had believed them dead, sacrificed in some cruel ritual or slaughtered outright. His brow furrowed, and he stared at the possessed king, his shock barely masked beneath a glare.

"You mean... the Flarefolk aren't dead yet?" Elias's voice was low, his disbelief mingled with a spark of hope. Perhaps there was still a chance to save them, to undo the damage Alaric's demonic corruption had wrought.

King Alaric chuckled, the sound a dark and mocking melody. "Judging by that look on your face, I see you  had no idea. How delightful!" His eyes glinted with sadistic amusement as he continued. "No, I'm not so heartless as to simply wipe out an entire race with a flick of my wrist." He paused, letting the tension hang in the air before he sneered. "I am that heartless, don't get me wrong.

But where's the fun in that? No, this is a game, Elias, and I want to savor every moment of it."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Elias's jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He knew the man Alaric used to be—honorable, compassionate, a ruler who fought for his people. But now, that king was long gone, replaced by a twisted puppet dancing on the strings of a demonic master. Every word Alaric spoke was filled with malice, every action calculated to inflict maximum pain.

"Where are they?" Elias demanded, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within him. He needed answers, needed to know how much time was left. The Flarefolk's lives hung in the balance, and he couldn't afford to waste a single second.

Alaric's grin widened, a grotesque parody of joy. "Oh, they're safe for now, if you could call it that. Locked away in the deepest cells of this very castle. But here's the twist—there's a little surprise waiting with them. A poison sac, slowly releasing its deadly contents into their air supply. With every passing second, the sac weakens, and the poison seeps further.

Soon, very soon, it will be too late."

Elias's mind raced a, but his expression remained calm. The longer he waited, the closer the Flarefolk came to death, their bodies succumbing to a slow and agonizing demise. Alaric was toying with him, dangling the lives of the Flarefolk like a cruel puppet master. Yet, in his arrogance, Alaric had also revealed a critical piece of information: the Flarefolk's location and the nature of their danger. Enjoy new adventures from mvl

The king's overconfidence might be his undoing.

"If you want to save them," Alaric continued, his voice dripping with mockery, "you'll have to beat me first. Do you have what it takes, Elias? Are you willing to risk everything to try?"

Elias couldn't help but smirk at the irony. For all of Alaric's cunning, he had made a critical error: underestimating Elias's abilities and assuming he would play by the rules of this twisted game. Alaric might think he had the upper hand, but Elias had no intention of fighting on Alaric's terms.

"Thanks for the tip, Alaric," Elias said, his tone deceptively light. Without another word, Elias activated his teleportation ring, vanishing with a sucking sound. He reappeared in the damp, darkened cells. The air was thick with the acrid stench of decay and the faint, bitter scent of poison.

Elias's heart sank as he took in the sight before him: the Flarefolk, huddled together like livestock, even livestock weren't treated like this. They were delirious, their eyes glazed, barely aware of their surroundings.

Elias's gaze shifted to the poison sac suspended above the cells, a viscous, sickly fluid slowly dripping into the room. He could see the subtle shimmer of mana and poison miasma around it, designed to spread the poison insidiously. Without hesitation, Elias leaped to the ceiling and carefully snatched the sac.

The Flarefolk remained unmoving , their breaths shallow, but they were alive. Elias felt a wave of relief wash over him; there was still time to save them fully. He glanced over the prisoners one last, Loria specifically and his heart ached at their condition, but he had no time to linger. With a determined nod, Elias teleported back to the throne room.

King Alaric was lounging on his throne, a look of impatient boredom on his face. When Elias reappeared, the king's eyes flicked up with a mild curiosity. "Ah, there you are. Where did you go?" Alaric sneered. "For a moment I thought you ran, if you did I wouldn't have blamed you"

Elias's response was swift and wordless. He tossed the poison sack toward Alaric, who caught it instinctively. The king's expression shifted from smug confidence to confused fury as he realized what had happened.

"Looks like your plan didn't quite work out the way you wanted," Elias said, his voice edged with a controlled anger. "You want a fight, Alaric? Fine. I'll give you the beating you crave, ."

Alaric's eyes blazed with a dangerous light, his demonic nature flaring as he crushed the poison sack in his hand, the vile liquid oozing between his fingers. His calm, collected demeanor cracked, revealing the wrathful expression beneath. He rose from his throne, the air around him shimmering with demonic energy.

"You insolent wretch," Alaric hissed, his voice distorted by the demon within. "You think you've won anything? You're nothing but a pawn, Elias. A pathetic, weak fool playing at heroism. I've torn through men far greater than you. Do you truly think you can fight me, Acadia: the demon King of Sloth?!"

Elias stood his ground, his magic swirling around him in an aura of defiance. He could feel the weight of Alaric's power, the oppressive force that aimed to crush his spirit. But he wouldn't back down. Not now, not when so many lives depended on him. He met Alaric's gaze, unflinching.