877 | Dictators Create Slaves

877 | A God Using Fear to Rule · Produces Mindless Slaves

Chapter 1: Evan Questions the King in the Bread Line

It was another sweltering day when Evan questions the King in the bread line, challenging the absolute authority that held their world captive. The line for bread stretches for miles, a dusty snake of bodies winding across a scorched, half‑dead planet. Every day here runs on repeat: stand in the heat, shuffle forward, keep your head down, and pray the King wakes up in a good mood.

Evan stands close to the front, one hand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. He isn’t starving—not yet—but he’s hungry for something the King never serves.

Around him, people fidget and whisper. Their fear hangs thicker than the heat. They’re tired. They’re broken. But above everything else, they’re obedient.

Up ahead, on a stone platform, the Supreme Ruler sprawls in a throne that looks obscene next to the dust under everyone else’s feet. Rings smother his fingers. His crown glitters. His expression says he has everything and still wants more.

“Next,” the King drones, barely moving his jeweled hand.

A woman steps forward on shaky legs. She bows so low her nose almost scrapes the ground.

“Please,” she whispers, voice cracking. “My daily bread. I’ve been waiting since dawn.”

The King leans forward, his smile sugar‑sweet and fake.

“You are such a good subject,” he coos, like he’s praising a well‑trained dog. “Here is one loaf. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll repeat this lovely ritual.”

He glances at the basket beside his throne. The bread never runs out. Loaves refill themselves as fast as he hands them out. The crowd sees a miracle. Evan sees a chain.

“Actually…” The King tosses a few extra loaves into the woman’s arms, then shoves the entire basket at her. “Take this. Pass it out to the good people in line. But listen closely: not a single crumb for anyone disobedient—or anyone who’s joined the Tempters. Let them starve.”

She nods so fast her hair comes loose and hurries away, hugging the basket as if it might explode.

The King leans back, satisfied. Every new helper saves him time. Fewer faces to deal with directly. More space to soak in worship. Being King feels good. He’s addicted to it.

Then Evan steps up.

He stops at the line scratched into the dirt—the DO NOT CROSS zone—and looks the King straight in the eyes. No bow. No tremble.

“I have a question,” Evan says.

Silence slams over the courtyard.

The people behind him jerk backward as one, like someone just pulled a fire alarm. You don’t ask questions. You ask for bread, you mumble thanks, you disappear.

The King blinks. His smile slips for half a heartbeat, then snaps back into place as a sneer.

“Where is your intercessor?” he demands, craning his neck as if a lawyer might pop out from behind Evan. “How dare you come to me directly? I am the all‑seeing, all‑knowing Great One. I have negotiators. Lawyers. Advisors. People who know the rules.”

“I know how it’s supposed to work,” Evan says. His heart hammers; his voice doesn’t. “I tried to hire an intercessor. No one would take my case.”

The line shuffles another step back. The air feels like the second before lightning hits.

“Obviously,” the King scoffs. “Mediators risk everything when they bring me upsetting news. If I dislike the message, I burn the messenger. Keeps standards high. I rely on them to filter out garbage so I only face the worthy stuff. But do not forget—” he taps his chest “—I make the decisions. They deliver the mail.”

Evan crosses his arms.

“Right. But since you claim to be all‑knowing, I’m guessing you already know I don’t have an intercessor. And you already know my question.”

Annoyance flickers across the King’s face.

“Of course I know,” he lies smoothly. “But I manage an entire planet. My mind is full. Why don’t you give me a hint? Refresh my memory.”

“No negotiators would take the job,” Evan says, calling the bluff. “They were terrified of causing you ‘displeasure’ because of what I want to ask.”

“Smart men,” the King mutters. “My pleasure is essential. So—what makes you bold enough, or stupid enough, to risk my wrath with a banned question?”

Evan feels the familiar itch in his skull. The part of him that refuses to accept it because I said so.

“My inner self won’t shut up,” he admits. “It keeps hitting me with questions no one here can answer. I’ve searched everywhere. If you’re truly all‑seeing, you know a question is just a cover for a whole book of answers. A real ruler must have access to that library, right?”

The King’s eyes narrow.

“What is your point, boy? You know the rules. I gave you one good book. It has everything you need.”

“You mean that giant one in microscopic print,” Evan says dryly, “written in an extinct code so confusing we have to hire ‘revered interpreters’ just to skim it?”

“It works,” the King snaps.

“Not for me,” Evan says. “I want more than blind obedience. I want to use the free will I was born with to make the best decisions for my life. I want to understand.”

The King sits up straighter. His voice drops into a low rumble.

“Careful. I gave you free will so you could wrap it up and hand it back to me like a present. Presents make me happy. That’s the system. I never expected anyone to be foolish enough to use it to become a co‑ruler.”

He flicks his hand toward the hazy horizon.

“People who insist on doing whatever they want end up banished. Beyond my kingdom.”

Evan frowns.

“If you rule all lands, how can there be a place beyond your kingdom?”

The King waves the question away.

“Good question. I don’t care to know the answer. I tell my guards to drag the troublemakers somewhere I can’t see them. If I can’t see them, they please me. That’s enough.”

Cold fear knots in Evan’s stomach. One wrong word and he’s gone.

“I’ll be honest,” he says quietly. “I’m scared you’ll send me away. But this is eating me alive. You already know what I’m thinking. Can you read it?”

The King sighs like he’s dealing with a stubborn child.

“Fine. Say it in your own words so I can focus.”

Evan steps forward, closing the distance between the subject and the ruler.

“You are the King of this planet,” he says. “But I look like you. I’m made in your image. So my question is this:

How do I use my free will to become a king… like you?

Chapter 2: The King Orders Evan to the Dungeon and the Guards Refuse

The tense atmosphere shatters when the King orders Evan to the dungeon and the guards refuse, revealing the breaking point of the realm's broken system. The crowd doesn’t just gasp—they flinch, like Evan just pulled the pin on a grenade and dropped it at the King’s feet. Asking for bread is normal. Asking how to become a king?

That’s a death wish.

The King’s face goes a violent shade of purple that clashes with his velvet robes. He leaps to his feet, pointing a shaking finger.

“Guards!” he screeches. “Guards! Take this fool beyond my farthest lands! Immediately! This rebel wants my place!”

A guard in dented, oversized armor clanks forward. He looks exhausted and deeply underpaid.

“Uh… sorry, sir,” the guard mutters, staring at the ground. “We can’t really do that.”

The King freezes.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s no such place as ‘beyond the farthest lands,’” the guard says, almost apologetic. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. Also, the dungeons are full. Completely packed. Standing room only. We’ve been stuffing people down there for years.”

He scratches his helmet, thinking.

“Maybe you could just… disintegrate him? Vaporize him here?”

The King looks horrified.

“Disintegrate him? Are you insane?” He throws his arms toward the staring crowd. “I can’t gasify my subjects every time they annoy me. Imagine my reputation. My best servants would flee. I’d be lonely. And bored.”

Evan sees the opening and jumps.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, hands raised. “Please forgive me. I was told the King is all‑forgiving.”

The King groans and slumps back.

“Who told you about the magic ‘I’m sorry’ words?” he gripes. “Now I have to forgive you. It’s in the bylaws. So tedious.”

“Look,” Evan says quickly, trying to steer away from vaporization, “you’re misunderstanding me. You’re so afraid of being replaced, you’re not hearing me. I’m not trying to kick you off the throne. I want to like you.”

The King blinks.

“Like me?”

“Exactly.” Evan leans in. “You have servants, guards, advisors, slaves. You own all the land and power, so no one else can rise. You threaten to banish anyone who disagrees with you. I don’t want to erase you as the only King. I want to follow your example. I want to do what you do.”

He taps his own chest.

“I’m made in your image, right? I was born with free will. I have the potential to be wise and powerful. But look at your kingdom. It’s chaos. Violence. Confusion. Your Tempters—the ones you hired to test us—have gone rogue. They’re recruiting people to their side and teaching them how to cheat the system. Criminals run free. Honestly? It looks like you need help.”

The King stares at him, stunned.

“That is the most bizarre thing I have ever heard,” he says flatly. “There has always been one King. Me. I know all events. I make all decisions. I control everything. If you become a king, others will want to be kings. It will spread. It will be anarchy.”

He spins toward the guards.

“Clear the square! Everyone out! I forbid anyone else to hear this dangerous nonsense!”

No one moves.

If anything, people lean in.

After a long, awkward pause, the lead guard clears his throat.

“I’m sorry, great King,” he says, “but… they won’t leave. Everyone wants to hear the answer. Honestly, so do we. We’ve argued about this in the break room for years, but no one wanted to get scorched.”

He glances at Evan with a new respect.

“I think this kid knew you’d lose it, so he waited until the whole kingdom was watching. He guessed you wouldn’t smite him in front of an audience.”

Evan doesn’t deny it. Just holds the King’s gaze.

“Please,” he says. “Help me figure out how to grow up. My soul feels like it’s bursting with potential.”

He raises his voice.

“Your first law says, ‘You shall have no other kings before me.’ That tells me other kings can come after you. You come first. The others come later.

Your second rule says, ‘Do not worship false lords.’ That means there must be true kings to honor—starting with you, sure. But not ending with you.”

“No, no, no!” The King clutches his hair. “You have everything backward! There is only one King! The rest are impostors!”

“I get that,” Evan says. “But the false kings are still your fault.”

The crowd gasps—even the guard winces.

“My fault?” the King sputters.

“Yes.” Evan’s voice grows stronger. “You unleash the Tempters. You let them run wild, teaching people how to be selfish, rebellious, fake kings. Meanwhile, people like me who want to be wise and virtuous kings get nothing. No training. No guidance. You’re so scared of being replaced that you keep us in the dark. You label anyone who tries to grow into real power as a rebel. You demand worship, and if we refuse, you throw us into torture.”

Evan shakes his head.

“That isn’t a King. That’s a bully.”

Chapter 3: Evan and the King Discuss the Illusion of Free Choice

Remaining perfectly calm, Evan and the King discuss the illusion of free choice under a dictatorial regime. The King doesn’t explode this time. He leans forward and rests his chin on his hand, studying Evan like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.

“Here’s the thing, kid,” he says, lowering his voice to a whisper that carries over the hushed crowd. “My system is simple. I am your only King. The deal is this: you give up your free choice and do whatever I say. In return, you get to live with me and keep giving up your free choice forever. It’s a win‑win.”

“That’s a lose‑lose,” Evan says.

“It’s efficient,” the King insists. “Everything runs best when I make all decisions. I know what’s happening because my intercessors keep me informed. I don’t need help.”

“Wait,” Evan cuts in. “If you know everything, why do you need intercessors to update you?”

The King ignores the question.

“As the sole all‑powerful King, I decide everything that happens. Yes, everything. If it seems illogical to you, that’s because you’re confused by the illusion of free choice.”

He gestures at the crowd.

“My subjects think they’re choosing. In reality, I watch them, then decide whether to let their choice become real. You’re not living your lives. I’m playing you like a video game.”

A chill crawls down Evan’s spine. The bread line. The rules. The punishments. It’s worse than he thought.

“Let me tell you a story,” Evan says, voice edged with sarcasm. “Once there was a harsh ruler who gave his people the illusion of free choice. He only allows things that serve his selfish goals. He claims the right to make people do anything he wants—and if they refuse, he throws them into a pit of fire.”

Evan steps closer.

“In his kingdom, no one can even question him. Because ‘right’ means whatever the king wants today.”

The King doesn’t even look offended. Just puzzled that Evan thinks any of this is bad.

“My subjects are free to do whatever they want,” he says with a shrug, “as long as it pleases me. Why would I let people do things that make me unhappy? That is nonsense. Being good means fulfilling my almighty desires. That should be your top priority.”

He inspects his nails like this is boring.

“One of my main goals is to raise a super‑obedient servant army, always ready to carry out my wishes. Is that so unreasonable?”

“You want robots,” Evan says. “Not people.”

“I want obedience,” the King corrects.

“I don’t plan on being a demanding king,” Evan says, turning slightly so the crowd hears him too. “If I ever rule, it’ll be for everyone’s good. I’ll train my people to make wise choices. To run their own lives.”

He nods toward the King.

“You always complain about doing everything yourself. You say you’re overwhelmed. You wouldn’t be drowning if there were more kings. If you taught us how to lead, you could actually take a vacation. Explore this ‘outer darkness’ you keep banishing people to. Maybe throw in some light, fix up the place.”

The King pauses. The idea of a vacation clearly tempts him.

“I see your point,” he admits slowly. “But I don’t like giving up my exclusive titles. ‘The One and Only’ has a ring to it.”

He eyes Evan.

“If I ever needed an advisor—which I do not, because I am perfect—I might call you. Leave your contact information with the guards.”

He straightens, trying to regain control.

“Just for comparison,” he says. “Say you run everything. How do you handle disobedient commoners? Rule‑breakers?”

“I wouldn’t obsess over my own comfort,” Evan answers immediately. “I’d focus on each soul’s growth. I’d help them understand why cosmic laws exist so they want to follow them—not just because they’re scared of you.”

The King scoffs.

“Exhausting. The line gets longer every day. I don’t have time for ‘growth.’ That’s why I hire the Tempters. They help me sidetrack the weak ones.”

“Sidetrack?” Evan repeats.

“Exactly,” the King says. “They whisper, I can get you anything you want right now. I can work around the King’s rules. I’ll keep it secret. He’ll never find out.”

He smirks.

“It helps me sort the weak souls from the useful ones. A King needs to know who he can trust.”

Evan shakes his head, stunned.

“That’s an ‘interesting’ plan,” he says. “Also, a very dangerous trap for your own people.”

“It’s quality control,” the King insists.

“See?” Evan tells the restless crowd. “I told you. He has way too much to do.”

Chapter 4: The King Admits to Entrapment and Eternal Suffering

The reality of the realm's cruelty becomes clear as the King admits to entrapment and eternal suffering as tools of his absolute rule. “It’s not just quality control,” the King argues, suddenly defensive. “It’s a necessary filter. People get impatient in line. That’s when the Tempters move in.”

He clears his throat and slips into a smooth, salesman's voice:

“Come on. Use your brain. The King doesn’t really care about you. Do you seriously think he’d get mad if you act like him? Look at me—I get away with anything. Tell me your darkest desires. I’ll train you to be a king.”

He drops the act, looking pleased.

“See? It separates the loyal ones from the ones who want my job.”

Evat stares.

“So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You deliberately push people toward rebellion… to see who cracks? You hire your own employees to trick your subjects into betraying you?”

“It sounds harsh when you say it like that,” the King mutters.

“It is harsh,” Evan shoots back. “It’s entrapment. Your big book of rules says lying and deception are wrong. Are you admitting that you and your Tempters are exempt?”

The King waves a hand.

“I control how intense the temptation gets. It’s just a test. I only give them what they can handle. I am famously ‘slow to anger.’ But—” his eyes darken “—when my patience runs out, vengeance is mine.”

“And what happens to the ones who fail your test?” Evan asks quietly. “The ones who listen to the lies you paid someone to tell?”

The King shrugs.

“I cast them into outer darkness. Or, as my guard points out, I guess they’ve been going to the dungeon. For continuous torture.”

He rubs his chin, thinking.

“Maybe that’s where the screams come from. They wake me every night. I thought it was my imagination. Or the plumbing. But at least that’s solved.”

He smiles faintly.

“A simple death would be too easy. People who cling to their free choice deserve eternal suffering.”

“Eternal?” Evan’s voice tightens. “How long is that?”

“Forever,” the King says casually. “I keep them barely alive and in the worst pain possible.”

“Okay, I understand the pain part,” Evan says, fighting to stay calm. “But when do they get out? After they’ve learned something? When do you show mercy and forgive them?”

The King laughs—a cold, empty sound.

“Vengeance is mine,” he says. “I don’t forgive traitors. I show no mercy to those who displease me. Once they’re in the dungeon, I lose interest. They’re dead to me. Well, not dead. Just screaming.”

Chapter 5: Evan Suggests a Soul School to Fix Broken Souls

Pushing back against this pointless cruelty, Evan suggests a Soul School to fix broken souls rather than torturing them for eternity. Evan looks at him like someone just dropped a shattered puzzle on the floor and called it art.

“That makes zero sense,” he says. “When I build something—a bookshelf, whatever—and mess up a shelf, I don’t leave the bad piece there forever, just can't yell at it. I tear off the wrong part and fix it.”

He steps closer, hands moving as he talks.

“Picture a house where every crooked wall and every leaky pipe stays broken forever. The whole thing rots. Or a toaster that doesn’t work, still sitting on the counter with a sign that says ‘Cannot Be Repaired.’ Pointless. My life is about fixing what’s broken. If something is really too far gone, I destroy it. I don’t keep it in the basement to torture it.”

“It’s about making a point,” the King sniffs.

“It’s about being cruel,” Evan fires back. “When I write a sentence and hate it, I erase it and start over. Imagine a book where every typo stays forever, pinned to the page so you can scream at it for eternity. Cur—cg someone infinitely just because they won’t hand over their freedom? That’s overkill.

Freedom to create is a gift. Without the power to choose and act, we’re just dead rocks shaped like you.”

The King frowns.

“They had plenty of time to learn to please me. Are you suggesting I try to… what? Reform the criminals who upset me?”

“Yes!” Evan says. “Exactly. Build a reform school. A real Soul School. Teach them how to use free choice in a way that lines up with divine laws. Most rebellion isn’t pure evil; it’s ignorance. People don’t know why the rules exist or what actually happens when they break them.”

He traces an invisible road in the air.

“If someone speeds, you don’t hang them from a tree and torture them forever. You send them to traffic school. You show them why lanes and limits matter. You fix the behavior—not destroy the person.”

Suspicion creeps back into the King’s eyes.

“You want me to train my enemies to be smarter?” he asks. “Stronger? You want me to teach them that I’ll forgive them and give them another chance? You want me to build people who can replace me.”

“I want you to act like a King,” Evan says, exhausted. “Not a warden. You left huge gaps in your rulebook to maintain control. You’re so afraid of us becoming royal that you turn us into rebels.”

“Enough,” the King snaps, pointing to the line. “Look at all those subjects waiting. You’re holding up production. Step aside.”

Chapter 6: The Crowd Rebels and Believes the Dungeon is a Party

Fueled by the revelation of the King's deceptive tactics, the crowd rebels and believes the dungeon is a party rather than a place of punishment. The King dismisses Evan, but the line is already poisoned. The whispers start at the back and roll forward like a wave.

They heard the King admit he hired the Tempters.

Heard that the rules are a setup.

Heard that his own agents break the law on purpose.

Fear thins. Something louder rushes in.

“Did you hear that?” a man shouts from the back. “The King pays people to break the rules!”

“It’s a setup!” another yells. “He doesn’t want obedient sheep—he wants gutsy rebels. He’s testing us to see who’s brave enough to ignore the handbook!”

The twisted logic spreads like wildfire because it feels good.

“If the King’s special agents can do whatever they want,” someone reasons, “then the punishments must be fake too.”

“There is no dungeon!” a woman screams, throwing her hands up. “If he’s searching for the strong ones, why torture them? Those screams we hear? They’re not in pain. They’re a party. A VIP club underground! There is no hell!” the crowd roars back. “Only a more indulgent heaven!”

A teenager jumps onto a crate and rips his rule book in half.

“Burn it down!” he screams. “Prove we’re worthy! Break the rules to get into the VIP lounge!”

The King scrambles to his feet on the throne, waving both arms.

“No! Stop! You’re twisting everything! That is not what I meant!”

But it’s too late.

The mob rewrites the story in real time.

“We’re just like the King!” they shout. “We bear his image! If he can do anything he wants, so can we! We’ll make up our own truths!”

The straight, obedient line dissolves into chaos. The courtyard turns into a wild festival of anarchy.

The King watches, horrified, as his perfectly controlled system melts. For the first time, he realizes he isn’t writing the script anymore.

Chapter 7: The King Asks Evan for Help with Laws and Freedom

Facing the absolute ruin of his empire, the King asks Evan for help with laws and freedom to restore order. By the next morning, the castle feels hollow.

The King paces his throne room, stepping over overturned chairs and shredded banners. He looks older, smaller, and very, very tired.

“Guards!” he barks at the empty air. “Find that freeman. The one with the questions. Evan. Bring him here.”

A single guard leans against a pillar, picking his teeth.

“That won’t be necessary, Your Highness.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s already here,” the guard says, hitching a thumb toward the corridor. “We let him crash in the guest wing last night. He said you’d need him this morning. Kid’s got… foresight.”

The guard brings Evan in. Evan looks surprisingly rested, finishing off an apple like this is just another school day.

The King sighs, shoulders sagging.

“I never thought I’d say this to anyone,” he mutters, “especially not to a miserable, annoying irritant like you. But… I need your help.”

Evan takes one last bite.

“Drop to your knees and say ‘pretty please,’” he says.

The King’s eyes nearly pop out.

“Kidding,” Evan says, grinning. “Relax. How can I help?”

“Everything was fine until you started asking questions,” the King complains, though the anger is gone. “Now my kind, loving people are ready to riot. They think the dungeon is a nightclub. How do I stop this?”

“Your people were always ready to rebel,” Evan says, tossing the core into a bin. “They were just terrified of your vengeance. That fear is gone now. You can’t run this as a selfish, emotional dictatorship anymore. You need real rules. Impersonal laws. And most of all, you need to give them more freedom.”

The King snorts.

“Who has the wisdom to write such rules? Certainly not these hooligans.”

“They’ve already been written,” Evan says. “For another country. I happen to have a copy.”

The King narrows his eyes.

“I feel like someone planned this whole thing,” he says slowly. “Who is behind you?”

“Does it matter?” Evan asks. “If you find them, would you recruit them as advisors… or banish them as traitors?”

The King hesitates.

“Let’s postpone that,” he mutters. “Tell me about these laws.”

“It’s simple,” Evan says. “You tell the people they have fundamental, natural freedoms—rights you cannot touch. Real liberty gives their souls room to grow. If you let them grow, they might stop trying to burn your house down.”

The King grumbles.

“Fine. I can handle it from here.”

Chapter 8: The Crowd Demands Radiant Heart Flames and the Guards Quit

When the ruler tries to assert control, the crowd demands radiant heart flames and the guards quit, leaving the monarch completely undefended. Later, the King calls everyone to the courtyard. The crowd is loud and restless, waving handmade signs and chanting half‑formed slogans.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” the King bellows, trying to summon his old authority. “Faithful and loving people! I am here to announce the basic freedoms I am granting you! A ripple of curiosity passes through the mob.

“First!” he shouts, throwing his arms wide. “You have the right to bask in the warmth of my glorious luminescence whenever you come for your daily bread!”

He waits.

No cheers. No applause.

Evan cups his hands around his mouth.

“Your auric fire hasn’t exactly been blazing lately!” he yells. “We don’t want to bask in yours. We want the freedom to increase our own radiant heart flames. We want a glow-up!”

The King glares and waves him away.

But the crowd catches fire.

“The freeman is right!” they shout. “We want a glow! We want a glow! Our souls want divine virtues, not just bread!”

The King’s jaw tightens. He pivots.

“Fine!” he roars. “Second! I grant you the freedom to praise and worship me as much as you desire! You’re welcome!”

“You are our idol!” a few conditioned loyalists call weakly. “You are magnificent!”

Evan steps forward again.

“No,” he says. “We have the right to expand the majestic seeds already inside our souls. We don’t want to worship your victory. We want to awaken the majestic sense of victory in our own hearts.”

The crowd explodes.

“I am the majestic sense of victory!” they chant. “I am the majestic sense of victory!”

The King snaps.

“Guards!” he screams. “Arrest that freeman! Throw him in the—” He stops, searching for a threat that isn’t cursed. “Throw him somewhere!”

He spins toward the place where his elite guard usually stands.

No one is there.

Only neat piles of abandoned armor—helmets, swords, shields—lie on the stone floor.

The guards have quit.

The King stands alone before a sea of people who suddenly see everything clearly:

The Emperor still has a crown—but no clothes, no guards, and no control.

Chapter 9: The King Demands Happiness, and Evan Promotes Self-Mastery

Desperate for validation, the King demands happiness, and Evan promotes self-mastery to counter the ruler's selfish pleas. The King stares at the abandoned armor, a twitch pulsing under his left eye. His terrifying elite guard has literally walked off the job.

But he refuses to back down.

“Okay,” he says, smoothing his robes. “Slight pivot.”

He raises his hands.

“Forget the mess,” he announces. “Here is your next amazing freedom, which I generously grant you: you now have the right… to make me happy!”

He smiles broadly.

“That’s right. You get the privilege of keeping me in a good mood. It’s vital work—it keeps me from getting angry and smiting people. So really, you’re saving yourselves. You’re welcome.”

The crowd stares. A few people clap weakly, like students forced to applaud a terrible assembly speech.

Then all eyes slide to Evan.

“Seriously?” he says. “We are not your emotional support animals. We are not responsible for your happiness.”

He turns to the crowd.

“We demand the freedom to control our own lives. Our souls have the right to pursue self‑mastery. We want to generate our own happiness—not tiptoe around a moody guy in a chair.”

The murmurs grow louder. Heads nod.

The King’s forced smile starts to crack.

Chapter 10: Evan Tells the Crowd to Claim Dominion Over Their Evolving Souls

Refusing to accept fake compromises, Evan tells the crowd to claim dominion over their evolving souls and reject the ruler's flawed petition system. Sweat beads on the King’s forehead. He feels the crowd slipping away, so he plays his favorite card: total control with a fake outlet.

“Listen to me!” he shouts. “You all know I control everything. Everything. So I now grant you the right to petition me. Make lists of what you want and ask me every day—especially when I don’t answer. Persistence is key.”

“We’ve been doing that for decades!” a woman in the front yells. “You never answer! Our petitions vanish!”

“Did you pay the filing fee?” the King snaps. “I’m very busy. You must have blind faith. Be patient. Long‑suffering. Suffering is excellent for character development.”

Evan steps forward, arms folded.

“We’re not blind,” he says coolly. “We can see you’re not in control.”

He gestures around.

“Look at this place. Your guards quit. Your Tempters run side hustles. Your people don’t even respect your threats anymore. We pretended for a long time. We’re done.”

He turns to the crowd.

“We’ve decided to unite and run the kingdom ourselves. We demand the freedom to make wise decisions. We dedicate our minds to divine wisdom—not to a king who ignores his own mail. We claim dominion over our own evolving souls.”

Panic flashes across the King’s face.

“I grant you the freedom to obey me!” he blurts. “And the freedom to fear my vengeance! That’s a major one!”

“Have you noticed,” Evan asks, “that every ‘freedom’ you offer is still about you?”

“What’s your point?” the King growls. “I am the all‑everything King. I define the purpose.”

“You asked for my help stopping a rebellion,” Evan reminds him. “Remember? The rebellion that ends with you unemployed?”

“Oh. Right,” the King mutters. “That.”

“Then let go,” Evan says. “Let go of this selfish dictatorship. Stop trying to erase people’s consequences. Let them go to Soul School and actually learn.”

The King swallows.

“But if they learn too much,” he whispers, “they might want to replace me.”

Chapter 11: The King Offers to Forgive Debts, and Evan Explains Carrying Karma

Trying to buy their loyalty, the King offers to forgive debts, and Evan explains carrying karma so the people understand the true cost of their freedom. “Okay,” Evan says softly. “One last attempt. Try being genuinely nice.”

The King nods and pastes on his friendliest fake smile.

“People!” he announces. “I want you to believe I am your best friend. Your BFF. Therefore, I grant you the freedom to be my pals. And because we’re friends, I will forgive all your debts. All your obligations—gone! No more rules. No more responsibilities!”

The crowd perks up.

“Forgive our debts?” someone shouts. “Free money? We want that! We want freedom to spend without consequences!”

The King beams. Fina—f, something they like.

“Yes! I will even release all the prisoners from the castle! The ones clanging and yelling that I pretend not to hear!”

Silence.

The King expects cheers. He gets blank stares.

Evan leans in.

“Dude,” he whispers. “The dungeons became a gym twenty years ago. Those noises? That’s people lifting weights.”

He turns to the crowd.

“Listen. We have the right to carry our own karma. We created it; we should bear it. If we let someone else carry our load, we stay weak. That ‘debt’ he wants to erase? It’s trapped energy. When we take responsibility, we free that energy and become strong.”

He scans their faces.

“If you want to be powerful, pay what you owe. Don’t let him buy you off.”

The mood shifts again. Spines straighten.

“He’s right,” someone says. “We want to be responsible.”

“A real friend doesn’t turn you into a freeloader,” another adds.

The King watches his “best friend” strategy crumble to dust.

Chapter 12: Evan Claims the Authority to Call on Cosmic Powers for Protection

Rejecting the ruler's final lie, Evan claims the authority to call on cosmic powers for protection, inspiring the people to become spiritual warriors. Running out of tricks, the King goes for the classic move: pretend he’s their savior.

“I want everyone to believe I will save you from your enemies!” he declares, striking a heroic pose.

The entire courtyard bursts into laughter.

Thousands of fingers point—first at him, then at the sad heap of armor and weapons on the floor.

“You can’t even protect yourself!” a teenager yells. “Your army quit!”

Evan steps into the center of the laughter.

“He’s right,” Evan says. “The King can’t protect us. Our worst enemies aren’t foreign armies—they’re the Tempters he hired. And the shadows inside our own heads.”

Evan raises his fist.

“We demand the freedom and authority to call on real protection—angelic beings, cosmic powers, whatever names we use. We claim the right to face the ‘Dweller’ inside us and cast it out ourselves. We don’t need a babysitter. We need to become warriors.”

A chant rises, low at first, then thunderous.

“We want to be Soul Students! We want to be Soul Students!”

The King sinks into his throne.

For the first time in history, his subjects aren’t scared of the dark.

They’re ready to turn on the lights.

Chapter 13: The King Explains Removing Free Will Creates Mindless Zombies

When asked to banish earthly addictions, the King explains that removing free will creates mindless zombies instead of solving the underlying problem. The courtyard hums with rebellious energy. But one desperate man near the front still clings to the old system.

He pushes forward and drops to his knees.

“Please!” he cries. “Take away all the addictive drugs. They’re destroying everything. If you’d never allowed them, we wouldn’t be here. You control everything. Just snap your fingers and erase them. I have faith you can do it.”

The King rubs his temples. No guards. A half‑mutinous kingdom. And now this.

“No,” he says flatly.

The man crumples and turns away.

“Hey!” Evan calls. “Why not?”

The crowd still flinches a little when he questions the King—but no lightning comes.

“Since I am in a surprisingly good mood,” the King sighs, “I’ll answer. To stop the drugs, I’d have to imprison everyone who makes them and sells them.”

“Okay,” Evan says. “So lock up the makers and dealers. Problem solved.”

“Not quite,” the King replies. “The users are the real problem. As long as there’s demand, there’s supply. It would be more effective to remove the users. Then the dealers go out of business.”

“So… remove the users,” Evan says, testing the logic. “Problem solved.”

“Think, kid.” The King leans forward. “There are a lot of users. I could exile them, but if they have any free choice left, they’ll find a way to get high again. To truly solve it, I must take away their free will entirely.”

Evan hesitates.

“I guess a life without free will is better than exile?” he offers weakly.

“Is it?” the King asks. “To stop them from choosing drugs, I’d have to cut out part of their minds. Turn them into mindless zombies. No thoughts. No choices. Just breathing and eating.”

Evan grimaces.

“That sounds horrible. Honestly, it might be kinder to just kill them. Can you do that?”

The King smiles. It is not a kind smile.

“Of course,” he says. “I can do anything I want.”

Chapter 14: The King Threatens to Turn Caffeine Addicts into Zombies

Expanding on his terrible logic, the King threatens to turn caffeine addicts into zombies, proving how catastrophic his absolute control would be. “But here’s the catch,” the King continues, raising one finger. “If I remove addictive drugs, I must be thorough. That includes caffeine.”

Evan freezes.

“Wait. What?”

“Caffeine is a drug,” the King says casually. “And addictive. So everyone who drinks coffee loses their free will.”

He gestures toward the unseen city.

“Businesspeople lining up for coffee before work? Zombies. College students downing energy drinks during finals? Zombies. Workers trying to survive another shift? Zombies. All of them reduced to animal instinct.”

He chuckles.

“Coffee chains go bankrupt overnight. The economy crashes. Half the planet strolls around drooling.”

Evan’s eyes widen. He pictures his parents without coffee. His teachers. Every adult he knows is clutching a mug like it’s sacred.

“Actually,” Evan says quickly, “please don’t smite the caffeine addicts. Adults are terrifying enough when they’re caffeinated. Plus, people own stock in those companies. You’d wipe out everyone’s retirement.”

Chapter 15: The King Considers a Great Flood Because of Sugar Addicts

Taking the hypothetical to its extreme, the King considers a great flood because of sugar addicts, showing his continued reliance on destructive solutions. “Oh, I’m not finished,” the King says, clearly enjoying himself now. “If I treat addictions fairly, I must target the biggest one of all.”

Evan braces.

“What now?”

“Sugar,” the King says solemnly. “Demonic stuff. Works just like a drug. Eat it—get high. Crash. Crave more. Endless loop. And it’s everywhere. Ketchup, bread, chips, frozen dinners. Even baby formula, sometimes, has more sugar than soda.”

He leans back, satisfied.

“So, if I cut free choice out of drug users, I must also do it to sugar users. That means zombifying every kid who loves candy. Every toddler likes juice. Almost everyone who eats anything that tastes good.”

He spreads his hands.

“Everyone who chooses sugar would lose their decision‑making. Is that what you want? A planet of sugar‑free zombies?”

The logic is both flawless and completely insane.

“Wow,” he says finally. “You are… intensely overreactive. No wonder people are terrified to talk to you.”

He throws up his hands in mock surrender.

“Please, ignore me. I’m just a miserable, stupid human. You’re the all‑wise, omega‑supreme King. I trust you to do everything right. I’ll never ask you to change anything again.”

The King bursts out laughing.

“You know,” he says, “I’m finally starting to like you.”

He looks out over his wrecked kingdom—guards on strike, people demanding inner glow-up, laws twisted beyond repair.

“This free will experiment isn’t working how I envisioned it,” he admits, scratching his chin. “I’m considering a reboot. Maybe another great flood.”

He turns to Evan, eyes gleaming.

“How are your ark‑building skills?”

From the shadows behind the throne, a Tempter peeks out, pale and sweating.

“Thou shalt not surely remember we lied to you… right?” the Tempter whispers. “We’re really counting on that ‘constant forgiveness’ clause.”

Chapter Synopsis:

Evan confronts the Supreme Ruler in a massive bread line, openly challenging the dictator's absolute authority, use of fear, and entrapment tactics. When the King attempts to punish Evan, the guards refuse, revealing that the dungeons are full of political prisoners and that the ruler's system is crumbling under its own tyranny. As the crowd rebels, misinterpreting the dungeon as a party and tearing up their rulebooks, the King begs Evan for help to save his collapsing regime. Evan refuses the King's selfish compromises, urging the people to claim personal responsibility, increase their inner virtues, and reject blind obedience in favor of spiritual self-mastery.

Core Themes & Laws:

• Dictatorial rule built on fear, blind obedience, and the illusion of choice ultimately collapses when subjects realize their freedom and power come from within.

• The failure of absolute control and eternal torture as tools for spiritual growth, contrasting with the necessity of a true "Soul School" that teaches personal responsibility and cosmic laws.

• The realization that removing free will or coping mechanisms entirely creates mindless zombies rather than solving the root of human addiction and moral failing.

Key Entities Featured in this Document:

• Evan: A bold young seeker who confronts the King, exposes the deceptive nature of the realm's rules, and inspires the crowd to reject tyranny in favor of self-mastery.

• The King: The dictatorial Supreme Ruler of the scorched planet who rules through fear, relies on hidden Tempters to test his subjects, and faces a massive mutiny when his guards quit.

• Tempters: Agents hired by the King to trick and sidetrack vulnerable subjects, acting as quality control for the regime.