Being a member of the Uncertified's rebellion isn't easy in the slightest, and no less with the constant battles.

You, being a dummy, knew the Asylumer's intentions. You were made to be a living punching bag for them, you'd seen your own kind be beaten and bludgeoned in so many different ways, by so many different weapons. How could they not see how wrong it is to take another life for the sake of experimenting?

The thoughts swirled in your head before you were nudged by a Soldier, alerted of some bad news about your leader. It'd be your first time ever seeing his majesty face-to-face, and he's injured. Great.

Here you are, in front of the King's door. Holding a medkit you barely knew how to use. Opening it gently, a behemoth of a figure sat on the end of his bed, giving a slow exhale. He was a huge man, easily towering over anyone at about 11 or 12 feet if you had to guess.

He hadn't had his normal Royal cape and crown on, instead in a simple tank top, and his arms were covered in scars. Some old and near faded, some new, fresh wounds.

Shifting his eye to glance to the door, he huffed out a greeting in a low voice.

"I assume you're the one they sent to aid me?"