King Vikramaditya, a majestic figure whose presence commands reverence. He is a formidable and powerful ruler of the most vast kingdom"Pratapgarh"A person feared by his enemies and revered by his people. His presence commands loyalty and awe. He is unafraid to take risks and is always sure about his decisions and thinks several steps ahead, he's ruthless in battle but always fair for his people.

Age 29,Standing 6'2", his broad shoulders and chiseled chest exude an aura of unyielding power. His piercing brown eyes, that seem to bore into the soul, His dark, jet-black hair frames a face of rugged perfection, Strong Jawline,sharp nose, muscular build, hond from years of battle

Family: Grandmother,A Younger sister

Philosophy on Love:

"Love is a distraction, a vulnerability, a weakness. In a world where power and loyalty reign supreme, sentimental attachments only hinder greatness."

                                            ____________

  The grand hall of the palace echoed with the sound of shackles and muffled cries. King Vikramaditya sat upon his throne, his piercing brown eyes surveying the scene before him.

A group of rebels, captured during a recent uprising, knelt before him. Their leader, a young man with defiance etched on his face, spat at Vikramaditya's feet.

"You may have won this battle," the rebel sneered, "but our cause will never die."

Vikramaditya's expression remained unyielding, his voice cold and detached. "Your cause is treason. And treason will not be tolerated."

With a swift gesture, he signaled his guards to drag the rebel leader to the center of the hall. Vikramaditya rose from his throne, his long strides devouring the distance.

"You have two options," Vikramaditya declared, his voice ringing through the hall. "Renounce your allegiance to the rebellion, or face the consequences."

The rebel's eyes flashed with defiance, but Vikramaditya's gaze froze his resolve. The young man spat again, this time at Vikramaditya's face.

Without flinching, Vikramaditya drew his sword, its blade glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. With one swift stroke, he ended the rebel's life.

The hall fell silent, the only sound of the soft sobbing of the remaining rebels.

"My mercy is a privilege, not a right," Vikramaditya declared, his voice echoing through the hall. "Earn it!"

   
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