“…Sigh.”
Christopher exhaled a long, weary breath.
The Kingdom of Twaizalan—
the oldest and largest realm on this continent, with a history that had flowed uninterrupted for over twelve centuries.
In all the chronicles of the Twaizalan Royal Knights, no one had ever risen to the rank of Knight Commander at so young an age as I did.
An elite among elites. A figure envied by many.
Yet being a Knight Commander was not about glory. It was an unending burden—training subordinates, maintaining strict discipline, guarding the royal family around the clock.
The role exhausted both body and mind.
And still, I took pride in it. No matter the strain, I loved this duty.
Lately, however, rest had become a rare luxury.
Monsters had started appearing more frequently along the borders, and rumors of the ancient ones’ revival stretched our forces thin.
Today, at last, was meant to be my first genuine day off in months.
I had envisioned a day of simplicity: sleep until noon, stroll through the bustling market, linger in a quiet café with a book, and share drinks with old classmates at night.
Nothing lavish—just a day to feel human again.
Or so I thought.
The previous night, two strangers had appeared suddenly in the royal sanctuary—the “Chamber of Prayer.”
A young man with short black hair, barely twenty, and a young woman, roughly the same age, her skin a luminous violet, her beauty striking and otherworldly.
Both were covered in injuries, unconscious from the moment they arrived.
They were taken to the palace infirmary, but the king’s advisors feared they might be spies—or assassins—from a rival nation.
Thus, I was summoned to stand watch over His Majesty.
Dragging my weary feet across the polished marble floors, I made my way to the palace.
First stop: Minister Muu’s office.
Behind a desk buried in piles of parchment sat an old man, only the upper half of his face visible.
“Good morning,” I greeted him.
The man slowly rose, revealing kind eyes beneath a snow-white mustache.
“Ah, Christopher! I apologize for calling you in on your day off,” Minister Muu said warmly, patting my shoulder.
His smile—gentle, genuine—had a curious way of easing tension.
Though the second most powerful man in the kingdom, he bore no arrogance.
“My duty is to serve the royal family,” I replied. “A true knight never shirks responsibility.”
“Indeed, 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.”
Twaizalan had three renowned knightly orders—the Flame Knights, the Ice Knights, and the Earth Knights.
I commanded 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 regained consciousness. He claims to hail from a land unknown to our scholars or maps. The royal magicians suspect… he may have come from another world.”
“Another… world?”
The words lingered in the air—impossible, fantastical, yet somehow… plausible.
“The manner of their arrival—a sudden burst of light in the Chamber of Prayer—matches old myths of otherworldly travel. Even His Majesty believes they may truly be from beyond our realm.”
“So… no suspicion of malice?”
“For now, none,” Muu said. “But we cannot be careless. The Three Great Orders will take turns keeping watch over them.”
“I understand. But why not send them to a city healer instead of the palace infirmary?”
“Because,” Muu said softly, “they appeared within the Chamber of Prayer itself.”
I frowned. “And why is that significant?”
“The king was there last night, praying for a savior to deliver our world from the looming darkness. And then… these two appeared. His Majesty believes his prayers were answered.”
A “savior,” was it?
I clenched my jaw, swallowing thoughts I dared not voice.
We knights had served, bled, and died for this kingdom—was our devotion not enough?
Such musings were dangerous. I buried them deep.
“Go to them, Christopher,” Minister Muu said kindly. “They should still be in the infirmary.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sunlight streamed through stained glass along the marble corridor, scattering colors like fragments of a dream.
Yet the beauty did little to ease the unease in my chest.
Why must the king seek a savior when I stand ready?
At seventeen, I became the youngest commander in twelve centuries of history.
I may not yet surpass Commander Saran of the Flame Knights, nor Levin of the Earth Knights—but in time, I will. I must.
And yet…
I entered the infirmary.
Two figures lay ahead.
The woman still slept, her breath steady and serene. Even from afar, her beauty was undeniable—delicate, almost divine.
Beside her, the young man sat upright. Behind him, Commander Levin grinned like a mischievous child.
I suppressed a sigh.
Levin was talented—far more than I liked to admit—but his lack of discipline grated on me endlessly.
Duty came first.
“Greetings,” I said, stepping forward. “I am Christopher Ostrein, Commander of the Ice Knights of Twaizalan.”
The young man stood and bowed politely.
“My name is Zeek Astroi, from the Kingdom of Trizary,” he said.
“Chris!” Levin’s voice boomed. “You gotta hear this guy’s story—it’s wild!”
I ignored him, patience thinning.
“They say,” Levin continued, chuckling, “these two were fighting when they arrived! Lovers’ quarrel gone wrong, maybe?”
I exhaled slowly.
“Zeek,” I said calmly, “please explain yourself—and what happened before you appeared here. You arrived in the royal sanctuary, and until we understand how or why, I must treat you as a potential threat.”
A necessary lie.
Zeek’s expression darkened in thought, then softened as he began.
He was nineteen. In his world, demons—beings of immense intellect, strength, and magic—had waged war on humanity.
He and his comrades had sought to defeat the Demon King.
And just as he landed the final blow, a black sphere of light engulfed him… and he awoke here.
If true, then the sleeping violet-skinned woman before me was that Demon King.
The realization was staggering.
Then—
“…Mmm… ngh…”
A soft sound.
Her eyes opened.
Brilliant emerald orbs, full of life and confusion, swept the room.
“Where… am I?” she whispered.
“You’re in the Kingdom of Twaizalan,” I said gently. “I am Christopher Ostrein, Commander of the Ice Knights. Let me explain.”
Our eyes met.
Calm, yet imbued with a strength that seemed to pierce my soul.
The air grew heavy.
And somehow, I knew—
my days of quiet duty were over.
To be continued.
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