An oppressive silence engulfed the throne room, wrapping itself around every pillar, shadowing every face with a fog of uncertainty and fear. King Karna, normally a figure of unyielding determination and charisma, found his visage clouded by a storm of apprehension and disbelief. An unimaginable, bone-chilling possibility had been placed before him, one that painted his beloved son as a traitor.
"I...I cannot fathom this," King Karna finally uttered, his voice rippling with a vulnerability that was foreign to the confident monarch he had always been. "Explain to me, how does my son, my own flesh and blood, Prince Daleck, figure into this horrifying prophecy?"
Asta, the time traveller from a distant future, drew in a deep, steadying breath. He knew the words he was about to utter would bring forth a storm that could uproot the very foundation of King Karna's world. "Your Highness, the historical records from my era tell a tale of betrayal. Prince Daleck will conspire with Emperor Kupra in secrecy. This unholy alliance will grant Kupra the strength and internal support to wage a war on a scale never before seen. This, in turn, triggers a catastrophic chain of events leading to the inception of the first World War."
Every word, every syllable that fell from Asta's lips struck King Karna like an unending torrent of a brutal, chilling storm. He stared at Asta, the plea in his eyes begging him to retract the haunting prophecy, to erase the horrifying accusations against his beloved son.
"But...why? Why would Daleck betray me, his own father, his own people?" His voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion, a father's cry for understanding in the face of unthinkable accusations.
"Daleck's restlessness to ascend the throne, coupled with his insatiable desire for power, will be exploited by the cunning Kupra," Asta spoke solemnly, his voice echoing in the grandeur of the throne room. "Kupra will convince him that joining forces and overthrowing you would be the quickest route to fulfill his ambitions."
King Karna felt his heart clench in his chest, a muscle in his jaw twitched as he battled the onslaught of emotions within him. He clenched his fists, the edges of his royal rings biting into his skin, a harsh reminder of the grim reality he found himself in. He had been prepared for treachery from a conniving noble or a deceitful advisor, but his own son's betrayal was a blow he had never imagined. It was an agonising wound that threatened to shatter his world.
Images of a younger Daleck, a boy filled with passion and stubbornness, flashed before his eyes. The boy who would tug on his robes, begging for tales of the heroic kings of Kuntala, was he destined to be painted as a traitor? The King found himself caught in a tempest of emotions, torn between his unconditional love for his son and the imminent danger his kingdom faced. His heart rebelled against Asta's claims, but the scholar's unwavering conviction made it difficult to dismiss the possibility entirely.
As a ruler, he knew he must confront his son, seek the truth no matter how painful it might be. Yet as a father, he was paralyzed by an icy fear – the fear of possibly losing his son to the intoxicating allure of power and deceit.
The throne room, once a symbol of his authority and strength, now seemed to echo with the foreboding prophecy of an ominous future. As King Karna grappled with his chaotic emotions, the destiny of Kuntala hung precariously in the balance, the once peaceful kingdom teetering on the brink of despair and destruction.
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