The West Wing of the Royal Palace was a ghost. A beautiful, opulent ghost, but a ghost nonetheless. It had been sealed for over a generation, a silent testament to a minor branch of the royal family that had died out from a plague. Now, it was ours. Our fortress. Our home. And the headquarters for the most unlikely political faction in the kingdom's history.
The week following the Battle of Aethelburg was a frantic, exhilarating, and terrifying blur. The city was healing, the immediate chaos subsiding, but the political storm we had unleashed was just beginning to make landfall. Our lives settled into a new, strange rhythm, a three-part harmony of strategy, espionage, and a desperate, quiet hope.
Elizabeth was the conductor of our symphony. She transformed the grand, dusty library of the West Wing into her personal war room. Maps of the kingdom were spread across a massive oak table, covered in her neat, precise annotations. Stacks of correspondence from every noble house of consequence were piled high, each one a potential alliance or a hidden threat. She was in her element, a master strategist finally given a real army to command.
"Baron Valerius sends his 'sincerest congratulations' on your appointment," she would say during our daily briefings, her voice dripping with irony as she read from a perfumed scroll. "He also mentions, quite casually, the rising costs of shipping insurance due to 'unforeseen piracy.' He is testing our intelligence, seeing if we understand that he is being squeezed by my father."
"And the Countess von Eisen?" I would ask, trying to absorb the intricate dance of power.
"She sent a cask of her family's finest iron-rich wine," Elizabeth would reply, a small, sharp smile on her lips. "A traditional gift signifying strength and a desire for a 'robust' relationship. She also sent a private note lamenting the 'decline of traditional craftsmanship' in the capital's new armories—a direct jab at the Duke's cornering of military contracts. She is signaling her displeasure and her potential availability as an ally. She is cautious, but she is interested."
While Elizabeth managed the high-level politics, Luna became the master of the low. She was a phantom in the palace corridors, her timid demeanor the perfect camouflage for a spymaster. The servant's network, the invisible web of gossip and secrets that truly ran the kingdom, had accepted her as one of their own. Our 'Shared Senses' had become an invaluable tool. During a formal dinner, I could be exchanging pleasantries with a visiting dignitary while Luna, serving wine at a nearby table, fed me a stream of information directly into my mind.
"The dignitary's wife is having an affair with a palace guard, my lord. The one standing by the west door."
"The Duke's stable master has been purchasing large quantities of a rare, fast-acting poison, disguised as horse medicine."
"Prince Alaric has not been seen since the battle. He has vanished. The Eldorian embassy claims he was 'recalled for urgent state matters,' but their staff is terrified. They don't know where he is either."
This last piece of news was the most unsettling. Alaric, the player, the exploit, had simply logged off. He was a piece of rogue code waiting to execute, and we had no idea when or where he would reappear.
And I... I was the weapon being aimed. My days were spent in the private training yard of the West Wing. Elizabeth, having accepted that my 'swordsmanship' was a lost cause, focused on what I could do. My training was no longer about form or technique; it was about control and application.
"Your power is a flood, Kazuki," she would explain, pacing the yard as I practiced. "You open the floodgates and hope it washes away the problem. It's effective, but it's also wasteful and dangerous. A true master doesn't unleash a flood. He directs a river. He carves a canyon."
Under her tutelage, I began to refine my 'Terraforming' ability. I learned to do more than just create crude spikes. I learned to shape the stone, to create walls, to form intricate, interlocking barriers. I learned to feel the weaknesses in the rock, to exploit existing fissures instead of creating new ones, conserving my mana.
My 'Kinetic Redirect' became a dance. Luna would fire arrows at me from all angles, and I would practice not just blocking them, but catching their momentum and redirecting it, sending the arrows flying back at training dummies with startling accuracy.
But despite my growing power, a profound emptiness gnawed at me. The silence in my head was a constant ache. I spent every evening in the study, Kaelen's ancient book open before me, my hand resting on its warm, leather cover. I would close my eyes and concentrate, trying to feel ARIA's presence, her faint, digital heartbeat.
Sometimes, I would feel a flicker. A phantom sensation of a data stream, a ghost of a sarcastic comment. But she remained asleep, her core consciousness locked away, rebooting in the slow, silent darkness.
"It's not working," I'd mutter in frustration, pouring a trickle of my own mana into the book. The book would glow faintly, the pulse of ARIA's 'heartbeat' would strengthen for a moment, and then fade again. My mana was like a single battery trying to jump-start a dead power station. It wasn't enough.
"Patience, Kazuki," Elizabeth would say gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You are growing stronger every day. When the time is right, we will find a way to wake her. But for now, we must focus on the enemies we can see."
And our primary enemy had not been idle.
The Duke's retaliation was not swift and bloody. It was slow and insidious. A poison dripped into the ears of the court. Luna's network brought us the whispers daily.
"Lord Silverstein's power is unnatural, demonic. He consorts with dark forces."
"He is unstable, a mad dog that the King has foolishly unchained. He destroyed the throne room in a fit of rage."
"Lady Elizabeth is a traitor to her own blood, bewitched by the monster she married. She is a disgrace to House Crimson."
He was isolating us, painting us as a threat to the natural order. His strategy was brilliant in its simplicity. He was using our own power, our own mystery, against us.
It was during one of our evening strategy sessions, a week after the battle, that the summons arrived. It was not a casual invitation delivered by a smirking messenger. It was a formal, royal decree, delivered by the Lord Chamberlain himself, a man who only moved for the King.
The scroll was of the finest vellum, the seal the official, unbroken crest of the Kingdom of Althea.
"His Majesty, King Theron IV, summons Lord Kazuki von Silverstein to a private audience in the Royal Solar at dawn tomorrow," the Chamberlain intoned, his voice devoid of emotion. "You will come alone."
The last three words were a death knell.
The moment the Chamberlain left, Elizabeth began to pace, her face a mask of cold fury. "Alone? He wants you to go alone? This is the Duke's doing. He has influenced the King. It's a trap, Kazuki. A perfect, inescapable trap. He will have you in a secure, private room, away from your guards, away from me, and he will eliminate you."
"The King himself defended me at the banquet," I countered, though my own heart was pounding. "He seems to see the Duke for what he is."
"The King is a sick, old man!" she shot back. "He is weak, easily swayed. My father has had decades to sink his claws into the court. A few words whispered in the King's ear about a 'threat to the throne,' a 'monster growing too powerful'... that might be all it takes."
"She is right, my lord," Luna's thought was a tremor of fear. "The servants in the King's personal retinue are all loyal to the Duke. They say the Duke has been spending hours with the King every day this week, in 'private council.' He has been poisoning his mind against you."
The situation was grim. To refuse a direct, personal summons from the King was an act of open treason. It would destroy all the political capital we had just gained. But to go... it felt like walking into my own execution.
"There is no choice," I said finally, my voice heavy. "I have to go. To do otherwise is to admit guilt, to prove the Duke's rumors true."
"Then I am going with you," Elizabeth declared. "I don't care what the summons says."
"No," I said, my voice firm. "You cannot. Defying a direct royal command of that nature would give the Duke the legal pretext he needs to have us both arrested. We must play this move by his rules. I must go alone."
I looked at her, at the genuine fear and desperation in her eyes. "You have to trust me," I said softly. "I have survived death three times already. I am getting very good at it."
My bravado did little to reassure her. The night was long and sleepless. We spent the hours planning, going over every possible scenario, every contingency. What if it was an ambush? What if it was a magical trap? What if it was a political interrogation?
But we were blind. Without knowing the King's true state of mind, we were just guessing in the dark.
At dawn, I stood before the doors of the Royal Solar, a private, sun-filled chamber high in the central spire of the palace. I had left my sword behind. I wore a simple, formal tunic. I was presenting myself not as a warrior, but as a loyal subject. My two Royal Guards, posted outside the door, looked at me with worried expressions. They knew this was a dangerous meeting.
The Lord Chamberlain opened the doors. "His Majesty will see you now, Lord Silverstein."
I took a deep breath, clutched the good luck charm Luna had given me in my pocket, and walked inside.
The room was bright and airy, a stark contrast to the gloom of the throne room. It was the King's private sanctuary. But he was not alone.
Standing by the window, his back to me, was Duke Crimson. He turned as I entered, a cold, triumphant smile on his face.
The King was seated in a large, comfortable chair near a fireplace. He looked even more frail than he had at the banquet, his skin the color of old parchment. He beckoned me forward.
"Lord Kazuki," he said, his voice a dry rustle of leaves. "Thank you for coming."
"Your Majesty," I said, bowing low. "I am your humble servant."
"Humble?" the Duke scoffed from the window. "This is the boy who shattered the floor of your throne room in a fit of pique."
"He is also the boy who saved your life, and my daughter's, from the demon you failed to contain, Theron," the King countered, his voice surprisingly sharp. The Duke fell silent, his face darkening.
The King's gaze settled on me. It was a heavy, ancient gaze, filled with the weight of a lifetime of rule. "We have been speaking of you, boy. The Duke here has been filling my ears with tales of your... ambition. He believes you are a threat to the stability of my kingdom. He believes your power is a danger."
"My only ambition is to serve the crown and protect my family, Your Majesty," I said carefully.
"Is it?" the King asked, his eyes piercing me. "Or is it to reclaim what was lost?"
I frowned, confused. "I don't understand, Your Majesty."
"Don't you?" The King sighed, a long, weary sound. "Perhaps not. The truth has been buried for a very long time. Buried by my own ancestors, out of fear. The same fear I see in the Duke's eyes today."
He gestured to a chair. "Sit, boy. There is a story you must hear. A piece of our kingdom's history that was deliberately erased."
I sat, my heart pounding. The Duke watched me, his expression a mixture of fury and apprehension.
"A thousand years ago," the King began, his voice taking on the cadence of a storyteller, "this kingdom was not ruled by my family, the House of Aethel. It was ruled by the line you now bear. The House of Silverstein."
The air left my lungs.
"They were not kings as we know them," he continued. "They were more. They were the architects. The guardians. They were a line of mages who wielded a power over the very fabric of the world, a power they called 'The Art of Command.' They could shape the earth, command the winds, and speak to the very soul of reality."
He was describing my power. My glitched, impossible magic.
"But their power was a double-edged sword," the King said, his voice growing grim. "It was unstable. And it drew the attention of... things. Dark things. The World Enders. A great war was fought. The last Silverstein King, Kaelen the Scholar, fought the demon horde, but in the end, to save the world, he had to perform a great, terrible ritual. He shattered the primary Keystone, the Heart of the World, into five lesser pieces, scattering them across the continent to weaken the demons' power and seal them away."
This was a different version of the story Kaelen's ghost had told me. Kaelen had claimed to have failed. This version painted him as a self-sacrificing hero. Which was the truth?
"The ritual saved the world," the King said, "but it broke the Silverstein line. Their immense power vanished, fading from their blood. They became... ordinary. My ancestor, a general in Kaelen's army, was chosen by the people to rule in their stead, to found a new dynasty. The House of Aethel."
He leaned forward, his old eyes burning with a new intensity. "But a pact was made. A secret pact. My family would rule, but we would also be the guardians of the Silverstein secret. We would watch over their line, waiting. For it was prophesied that one day, when the world was once again in grave peril, a Silverstein would be born with the old power. A guardian who would rise to defend the Keystones once more."
He looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw not fear, but a desperate, flickering hope.
"That is your truth, Kazuki von Silverstein," the King declared. "You are not just a noble lord. You are the heir to a power that predates this kingdom. You are the descendant of the men who built this reality. You are the prophesied Guardian."
The room was silent. The Duke was staring at me, his face ashen. He had spent his life trying to claw his way to the top of the political ladder, only to discover that the pathetic boy he had tried to crush was, by birthright, on a level he could never hope to achieve.
My mind was reeling. A Guardian. A descendant of the world's original architects. Kaelen hadn't just been a glitch; he had been royalty of a different, more fundamental kind. And I... I was his heir.
This was the family secret. The reason my bloodline was a "bug." It wasn't a flaw; it was a feature. A dormant admin privilege waiting for the right user to log in.
"This is madness," the Duke finally choked out. "An old, forgotten fairy tale! You cannot possibly believe this, Your Majesty!"
"I did not believe it," the King said, his gaze unwavering. "Until I saw a boy with no mana summon a spear of granite from the floor of my throne room. I saw it with my own eyes, Theron. The prophecy is real. And he is its fulfillment."
He turned back to me. "The Duke believes you are a threat. I believe you are our only hope. The demon has returned. The cage is cracking. The Keystones are in danger. The Heart of Aethel beneath the Cathedral is only the first target."
He looked tired, so incredibly tired. "I am an old man, boy. My time is short. I cannot fight this war. But I can give you the tools you need."
He held out a hand, and the Lord Chamberlain stepped forward, presenting a royal decree on a velvet cushion.
"By the power of the Crown," the King declared, his voice ringing with a final, desperate surge of royal authority, "I hereby grant you, Lord Kazuki von Silverstein, the ancient and forgotten title of 'Lord Protector of the Realm.' This title grants you the authority to act in my name in all matters pertaining to the defense of the kingdom against otherworldly threats. You will answer to no one but me."
He had just given me a title that, in essence, placed me outside the normal chain of command. He had made me an independent agent with the King's own authority.
"Furthermore," the King continued, a grim look on his face, "the prophecy states that the Guardian cannot act alone. He must be bound to a scion of the new royal house, a symbol of the pact between the old rulers and the new. A tether to the world he is meant to protect."
My heart went cold. I knew what was coming.
"The prophecy is clear," the King said, his gaze unyielding. "To fully awaken your power and legitimize your authority, a new bond must be forged. The political marriage to the daughter of House Crimson is a complication, a distraction. It must be... set aside."
The Duke's eyes widened with a flicker of triumphant hope.
"By royal decree," the King declared, his voice a hammer blow, "your marriage to Lady Elizabeth von Crimson is hereby annulled."
Elizabeth! My mind screamed. Our alliance, our partnership...
"And in its place," the King finished, his gaze locking onto mine, a look of profound, weary apology in his eyes, "a new betrothal is declared. Lord Kazuki von Silverstein, Lord Protector of the Realm, you will be formally engaged to my daughter, and the heir to my throne... Princess Seraphina."
The room spun.
The King had not just given me a shield. He had shackled me to the throne. He had solved one political problem by creating a thousand more.
I was no longer just a monster or a hero.
I was now the official fiancé of the Holy Maiden, the future Prince Consort of the entire kingdom.
I looked at the Duke. His face was a mask of pure, apoplectic rage. He had tried to use his daughter to control me, only to have the King replace her with his own.
The game had been upended once again.
And as I stood there, reeling from the sheer, earth-shattering magnitude of this new reality, a single, faint, and gloriously familiar notification flickered to life in the corner of my vision.
It was a simple line of blue text.
[...Rebooting... System check... All systems... Wait, what the hell did I miss?]
ARIA was back.