The morning after the Dragonkin’s minions had attacked, a faint wisp of smoke still lingered over the royal capital.
The clang of hammers striking stone echoed through the streets as walls were rebuilt, mingling with the cries of the wounded and the lingering scent of burnt timber carried on the wind. The battle had ended—but its scars ran deep.
Inside the royal audience chamber, the same solemn atmosphere as the previous day hung heavily.
The courtiers stood in tense silence, exhaustion etched on every face.
Before the throne stood once more the Hero, Zeake, and the Demon Queen. The king rose slowly, his gaze fixed upon them.
“Hero and Demon Queen… I cannot fully express my gratitude. Truly, you are the saviors of our kingdom.”
The old king’s voice trembled slightly. A ruler bowing his head before guests—such a sight drew gasps from every noble in the hall.
“No, Your Majesty,” the Demon Queen replied lightly, waving a hand.
“We merely repaid the kindness of your hospitality. There is no need for thanks.”
Her tone carried an unfamiliar softness—so unlike her usual cold demeanor.
The king sank back onto his throne and exhaled.
“The power of the Dragonkin… is beyond imagination.
Even a small force of their servants brought such devastation.
I had hoped you might remain in this land to aid us in rebuilding…”
Zeake stepped forward, his voice firm.
“Your Majesty, as we said yesterday, we must continue our search for a way home.
Once this audience concludes, we intend to leave the capital.”
The king nodded slowly, a faint, wistful smile forming.
“I see… A pity indeed. Yet I will not deny the wish of those who saved my people.
In the end, the burden of this land must be borne by its own.
I shall meet with my knights and reshape our training, making it more rigorous and practical in light of yesterday’s lessons.”
“Then, with your leave, we shall take our departure.”
Zeake and the Demon Queen bowed and turned toward the doors. As they closed behind them, silence blanketed the grand hall.
—Christopher remained motionless.
As Captain of the Knights, his duty was clear. Yet inside, a storm raged.
He could not forget the sight of those two on the battlefield—
figures like living legends, cutting through chaos with strength and conviction beyond imagination.
Their backs burned themselves into his memory.
He wanted to chase them—to reach that same height.
“Your Majesty!!”
The shout escaped him before he could think. Every head turned. The tension in the room tightened.
“What is it, Christopher?” the king’s gentle voice asked, deepening the ache in Christopher’s chest.
Christopher stepped forward and knelt.
“Your Majesty… please, allow me to accompany those two on their journey!”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the chamber. Some voices hissed, “Absurd!” “He’s lost his mind!”
The king’s brow furrowed.
“No. After yesterday’s battle, you saw our weakness.
Now is the time you must lead the knights and rebuild their strength.”
“You are right, Your Majesty,” Christopher said, his voice trembling yet resolute.
“But I was powerless. My sword, my magic, my strategy—none of it mattered.
I could not protect anyone.
I wish to travel beside them, to see the world, to learn what true strength means.
Only then can I return and serve this kingdom as it deserves.”
One noble burst out, “Fool! You would abandon your duty?”
But Christopher bowed his head.
“My lieutenant, Chiria, is calm and capable. The knights trust her deeply.
And we have Sir Saran and Sir Levin to defend the realm. They are stronger than I am now.”
Silence fell once more.
The king rested his hands upon his knees, deep in thought. Minutes passed.
Then, slowly, he lifted his head.
“…Go, Christopher.”
Gasps filled the hall. The king raised a hand for silence.
“From childhood, you have given your all to this kingdom.
I remember you sneaking into the training yard before dawn, your tiny hands gripping a wooden sword, never yielding to pain.
To me, you have always been like a son.
And now, for the first time, that son has asked for something for himself.
How could I refuse?
Go. See the world with your own eyes.
And return stronger than any—stronger even than the Dragonkin, stronger than those two.”
The king’s voice was both warm and majestic. Tears streamed down Christopher’s face as he knelt deeply.
“Yes… I swear it. I will surpass them both.”
Soft applause echoed through the hall—not of farewell, but of blessing.
Thus began Christopher’s new journey:
To chase the backs of the Hero and the Demon Queen—
to walk the vast, unknown world, bearing the king’s trust and his own burning resolve.
To be continued…
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