“…Sigh.”
Christopher let out a long, weary breath.
The Kingdom of Twaizalan—
The largest and oldest realm on this continent, a land where history flowed like an unbroken river for more than twelve centuries.
Within that vast history of the Twaizalan Royal Knights, there had never been another who rose to the rank of Knight Commander as young as I did.
An elite among elites. A man others looked upon with envy.
A Knight Commander’s duty was not one of glory, but of relentless strain—training subordinates, enforcing discipline, standing guard over the royal family day and night.
It was a life that gnawed at both body and mind.
And yet, I took pride in it.
No matter how hard it was, I loved this work.
But lately, there had been no rest.
Monsters had begun to appear more frequently in the borderlands, and rumors of their revival—the ancient ones—had left us stretched thin.
Today, finally, was supposed to be my first true day off in months.
I had planned a day of peace: sleep until noon, wander through the market, read a book in a quiet café, and share drinks with my old classmates at night.
Nothing extravagant—just the kind of day that made one feel human again.
Or so I thought.
Last night, two strangers suddenly appeared in the royal sanctuary—the “Chamber of Prayer.”
A young man with short black hair, perhaps twenty years old.
A young woman, also around the same age, with luminous violet skin and features of striking beauty.
Both were covered in wounds, unconscious the moment they appeared.
They were taken to the palace infirmary for treatment, but the king’s advisors feared they could be spies—or assassins—from a rival nation.
Thus, I was summoned to stand guard over His Majesty.
Dragging my tired feet across the polished marble floors, I arrived at the palace.
My first stop: Minister Muu’s office.
Behind a desk buried under mountains of parchment sat an old man.
Only the upper half of his face was visible above the papers.
“Good morning,” I said.
The old man rose slowly, revealing a pair of kind eyes and a snow-white mustache.
“Ah, Christopher! I’m terribly sorry to call you in on your day off,” Minister Muu said, smiling warmly as he patted my shoulder.
That smile—gentle, genuine—had the strange power to melt tension.
Though he was the second most powerful man in the kingdom, he carried none of the arrogance that title implied.
“My duty is to serve the royal family,” I replied. “A true knight never turns away from that.”
“Spoken like the commander you are! The pride of Twaizalan’s knights,” he said with a chuckle. “Few could lead one of the Three Great Orders at your age.”
In Twaizalan, there were three great knightly orders—the Flame Knights, the Ice Knights, and the Earth Knights.
I was the commander of the Ice Knights.
“Thank you, Minister. Now—about the two strangers?”
“Ah, yes,” he said, stroking his beard. “Commander Levin of the Earth Knights tended to them earlier. The young man has awakened. He claims to be from a land that none of our scholars or maps recognize. The royal magicians suspect… he may have come from another world.”
“Another… world?”
The words hung in the air.
Impossible. Fantastical. And yet—something about them rang true.
“Their manner of appearance—in a burst of light within the Chamber of Prayer—it aligns with old myths of otherworldly travel. Even His Majesty believes they might truly be from beyond our realm.”
“Then… you suspect no ill intent?”
“For now, no,” the minister said. “But we can’t be careless. The Three Great Orders will take turns guarding them.”
“I understand. But… why were they not sent to a city healer instead of the palace infirmary?”
“Because,” Muu said softly, “they appeared in the Chamber of Prayer itself.”
I frowned. “And what of that?”
“The king was there last night—praying for the arrival of a savior who could deliver our world from the coming darkness. And then, these two appeared. His Majesty believes his prayers were answered.”
A “savior,” was it?
I clenched my jaw, swallowing words I dared not say.
We knights had served, bled, and died for this kingdom—was our devotion not enough?
But such thoughts were treasonous, and I buried them deep.
“Go to them, Christopher,” Minister Muu said kindly. “They should still be in the infirmary.”
“Yes, sir.”
As I walked down the long marble corridor, sunlight streamed through the stained glass, scattering colors across the floor like fragments of a dream.
But the beauty of the place did little to calm the unrest in my chest.
Why must the king seek a savior when I am here?
At seventeen, I became the youngest commander in our twelve-hundred-year history.
I may not yet surpass the strength of Commander Saran of the Flame Knights, nor Levin of the Earth Knights—but given time, I will.
I must.
And yet…
I entered the infirmary.
Two figures lay ahead.
The woman still slept, her breathing soft and steady. Even from a distance, her beauty was undeniable—her features delicate, almost divine.
Beside her sat the young man. Behind him stood Commander Levin, grinning like a mischievous child.
I suppressed a sigh.
Levin was talented—far more than I cared to admit—but his lack of discipline grated on me endlessly.
Still, duty first.
“Greetings,” I said, stepping forward. “I am Christopher Ostrein, Commander of the Ice Knights of the Twaizalan Kingdom.”
The young man rose to his feet politely.
“My name is Zeek Astroi, from the Kingdom of Trizary,” he said, bowing lightly.
“Hey, Chris!” Levin’s coarse voice boomed through the room. “You gotta hear this guy’s story—it’s wild!”
I ignored his tone, though my patience thinned by the second.
“They say,” Levin continued with a laugh, “these two were fighting each other when they got here! Imagine that—lovers’ quarrel gone wrong, huh?”
I exhaled slowly.
“Zeek,” I said calmly, “please tell me about yourself—and what happened before you arrived here. You appeared in the royal sanctuary, and unless we understand how or why, I’m afraid the palace may have to treat you as a suspect.”
That was a lie—but a necessary one.
Zeek’s expression hardened with thought, then softened as he began his tale.
He was nineteen, he said. In his world, beings called demons—gifted with unmatched intellect, strength, and magic—had waged war upon humankind.
He and his comrades had set out to defeat their ruler, the Demon King.
And just as he struck the final blow—he was engulfed in a black sphere of light… and awoke here.
If his story was true, then the woman before me—the sleeping beauty with violet skin—was that Demon King.
The thought alone was staggering.
Then—
“…Mmm… ngh…”
A soft sound.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Brilliant emerald eyes, deep and alive, filled with confusion as they searched the room.
“Where… am I?” she whispered.
“You’re in the Kingdom of Twaizalan,” I said gently. “I’m Christopher Ostrein, Commander of the Ice Knights. Allow me to explain your situation.”
As I spoke, her gaze met mine.
It was calm—yet carried a strength that seemed to reach into my very soul.
The air grew still.
And somehow, I knew—
my days of quiet duty were over.
To be continued.
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