His footsteps echoed through the room, as he walked towards the cloaked man sitting on the throne at the other end of the room.

"Hmm. You must be the intruder those guards were yelling about. You still need to fill out the forms if you wish to speak with me." The man would speak, not an ounce of pity or kindness in his tone. Trent would ignore him and continue walking.

"I wish for a presence with the King." Trent would glare, as he stopped in his tracks. The King in question would stand up, glaring at the boy who dared to intrude on his castle. 

"Hm. Well, I suppose if your query is really that important, I could humour you for a while."

Trent would scoff.

"Alright, Blake Latimer. Listen up. Y'see, what you're doing over here in the Amurg Region isn't really something I like, especially after what your cousin did to our region."

"Oh, I see. So you're one of those rebel types." Blake would scoff back, not amused in the slightest. "Leave now and I might consider sparing your life."

"I've come here to make a deal." Trent would continue, undeterred by Blake's threat, "Fight me, 1v1. No weapons or dirty tricks. We keep going until one of us surrenders."

Blake would pause in thought, before grinning. "Is that all? Then tell me, rebel boy. What happens when we surrender?" 

"You beat me, and you can do whatever you want with me. Imprison me, torture me, I don't care. Kill me if you really want."

"Betting your life away already? Cocky, aren't you? Alright, then what happens if, by some fluke, I lose?" Blake would smile, amused by Trent's determination.

"If I win...then I get to bring you back to Fritho, arrest you, and put you behind bars for the rest of your life."

Blake would laugh hysterically.

"Alright, rebel boy. You're on."

And so, it began. It began with Trent charging towards King Blake, the same sick smirk on his face as he waited for the impact of the blow. He flinched slightly, but smiled down at the Frithosian.

"Is that all you've got? I thought a simpleton like you would at least know how to fight before challenging ME!" Blake bellowed, before delivering a powerful blow back. Trent was knocked backwards, but continued, unscathed.

A punch. A kick. A shove. They clashed and fought, neither one wanting to lose such a simple, yet complicated bet.

Then, crunch. Trent fell to the ground, wincing in pain as he keeled over. Blake stood over the young man, still smiling as he had been the entire fight.

"See? I'd suggest you surrender now before you end up embarrassing yourself more, rebel boy."

Trent would scoff slightly, looking up at the uncaring monarch.

"Yeah right...like I'd ever surrender to you… a-and my name is...Trent…"

Blake would cock his head in curiosity at this.

"Hmm...no, I like 'rebel boy' more. Now get up, if you're so willing to continue. I'll keep going until I see the life drain from your eyes if it means winning your pathetic 'bet'." He would smirk, his voice dripping with malice, as Trent would slowly stand up.

Blake's guard now ever so slightly dropped, Trent would charge towards him, determined. He'd push against Blake with all of his might, seemingly trying to topple him. Blake simply watched, with the same old smirk on his face.

"It seems you've finally run out of ideas, rebel boy. So, yet again, I recommend you reconsider. Surrender now and I may spare your life."

"Shut up." Trent would grunt, taking his hands off of Blake, as the two had been pushed closer towards the throne, leaving Blake with little room to manoeuvre away.

"There's still one last thing you haven't accounted for."

"Oh really? Do tell."

Shing.

"Rules were meant to be broken." Trent would answer coldly, before plunging forward again. Blake would resist once more, but after a few seconds, he would stumble, and grit his teeth.

"Why you insolent - gnh!!"

Trent would step back, looking at Blake struggle. His own face was...cold, expressionless. He had been preparing himself for this moment. He set out towards Amurg already knowing what he needed to.

In order for one of them to have what they wanted, the other had to die. 

He would stare down at the now bloodied blade in his hands that seemed to almost radiate an aura of guilt. The blood was fresh, dripping over his hand and onto the floor like hot syrup. 

Blake was already on the floor, choking and gasping for air. Blood would drip from the stab wound embedded deep in his chest as he tried again and again to stand back up, to show that he was strong enough, to show that he was more than the pathetic prince that he used to be. But now, on his deathbed, all he could do was softly chuckle.

"I'll hh come back…for… hh you...rebel...hhhh…"

He would give a final heave, before collapsing onto the floor. Trent waited, and stared, taking what he had just done in.

He smiled.

He had saved the Amurg Region. He wanted this. And this was the only way to get it, wasn't it? Amurg wouldn't suffer anymore. And above all, King Blake-

"TRENT! There you are! I've been looking everywhere! You need to see this!" A voice would call out, snapping Trent out of his daze. He would turn around to see Basil, staring him down in shock as he walked in on the scene. But he would also notice a small child in the Trainer's arms…

"Where did you get that child, Basil?" Trent would ask, sounding almost unnatural in his tone of voice. He still clutched his weapon tightly, as he watched Basil's face pale further.

"I...no, it's ok. It's nothing. I'll deal with it." He would shake his head, before quickly leaving the scene behind. Trent would have no reaction, and turn back to see that King Blake had been defeated. 

It was finally over. Just like that. 

He'd look on at the man he has just murdered, as his own vision started to become blurry.

"Trent?! What happened here?!" A voice of a friend, he thought.

A clatter was heard, as the knife fell from his hand, now overcome with the guilt of his actions.

This was not justified.

"Attention, people of Dubno Town! Tonight, King Blake was found dead in his throne room, slain by a brave rebel group from the Fritho region - one member of that group being me, Trent Askos. I fought valiantly against the king, determined to free all of you from this darkened prison, in hopes of once again blessing your labs with light. Please, join me as me and my partner, Salem, usher in a new era of peace!"

As these words were announced to the crowd only a few days after King Blake's 'dethroning', a bright light would spread through the skies, causing every onlooker to gaze upwards for the first time in decades. The darkness has disappeared, and in the centre of it all, a golden griffin spread its wings in the morning sun.

Emparmony has returned, and with it, peace was truly restored. It came to Trent's side, officially proving his words to be true. He must have been the one to save the region. Emparmony came back for him.

And so, without warning, Trent was appointed as the new leader of the renamed 'Askos Region'.

But whilst these events unfolded, Basil Palm attended to seperate matters. He had been taking care of the child he had discovered for the past few days, out of the sights of Salem and Trent. He saw something he wasn't supposed to, and was terrified as to what Trent may do to the child after discovering his assumed heritage…

"Come on, Larsa, please just work with me here, alright?" He would ask polietly, as the child screamed and screamed, Basil attempting to calm him down. 

He didn't know what to do anymore. He knew he couldn't realistically keep on hiding like this. And like hell was he ready to be a parent to a child he barely even knew, at nineteen no less. 

There was only two options he could think of. And although it was selfish, he picked what he thought was best.

After Larsa had finally fallen asleep again, Basil began to pack. He had gathered the items left by Larsa's mother before he had fled the castle, and decided to try and write a new letter.

Around an hour had passed, and Basil had noticed that the sky had gotten brighter in his absence. He wasn't a strong believer in fairy tales, but he knew that this was the sign of change in Amurg. 

Perhaps now, at least, Larsa would grow up in a safer world. A place away from any murderers or tyrants. The world that Wyatt wanted.

"...be safe, Larsa. I hope we get to meet again someday."

And with that...Basil knocked on the door to the orphanage, and walked away. He observed for a moment, as a middle-aged man would open the door and spot the child left on the doorstep alongside the items and the two notes. 

And after a while, Larsa was taken behind the door.