Chapter 13 A Test from the King

The King exhaled once. 

“Fine. If you won’t come to me—”

He stepped forward. Just one step. But that single step changed everything.

The air in the throne room thickened in an instant. The King's presence expanded, swelling like a storm cloud. His bloodlust poured out like a crashing wave, invisible but suffocating. It pressed down on Aura like the weight of the world.

It felt like the room shrank around her.

His sword came down.

It was a simple strike—slow, even lazy by the looks of it—but Aura’s instincts screamed. Her knees locked. Her breath caught. It was like a mountain was falling on her.

Her body didn’t move.

Her mind screamed, "Move! Guard! Now!"

Just as the sword neared her skull, her arms flew up on reflex.

CLANG!

Steel met steel.

The impact rang through the hall like a bell being struck by a hammer. Sparks rained down in shower, dancing on the ground.

Aura’s feet slid back.

She dropped to one knee.

The marble beneath her cracked in a spray of sharp white lines that rippled out like lightning as her knee hit the ground. The shock of the blow numbed her arms. She gritted her teeth as the King’s blade pressed down, grinding against hers.

Her shoulder felt like it might tear from its socket. Her legs buckled. Her whole body trembled under the weight of that one blow.

He didn’t look strained. Not even a little.

He looked… calm.

“I expected more... child. Is that all it took to stop you?” 

Aura didn’t try to overpower the strike. She knew she couldn’t.

Instead, she shifted her sword at the last second, angling it just enough that the King’s blade scraped along the edge and slid off to the side. Sparks flew as steel screamed against steel.

Aura moved instantly. In the same motion, she spun and slashed, slicing toward the King’s exposed side.

A blur of silver. A perfect strike.

But just before the blade landed—

Clang.

It stopped. Not against armor. Not against another blade. The King caught it—with his bare hand. His fingers wrapped tightly around the sword’s tip. He held it still like it was nothing more than a stick.

Aura’s eyes widened for only a blink, but her expression stayed calm. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Her sword trembled slightly in his grip, caught but not shattered.

“Hah… You didn’t panic. That’s good, little girl.”

He released the blade, letting it fall.

“This will do,” he said as he stepped back, wiping his hand on his cloak.

 “I’ve seen enough. You might be useful after all.”

Aura stayed silent, lowering her sword slowly.

“But let’s get something clear. I will not stand to see a hero candidate in rags from the gutter. A street rat bearing the name Aura? A name I gave this kingdom in honor of my beloved queen?” 

He let out a harsh breath through his nose.

 “Disgusting.”

Then, with a wave of his hand, he said, “As such, you will be granted the title of Baronet—the lowest rung of nobility. You will be given no lands, no retinue, no wealth. Only a small crest to wear and a surname for the records. Enough that the others won’t call you a gutter rat, but not enough to confuse you for a real noble. Be grateful. This way, I can at least stand to look at you.”

Aura didn’t react. Not a word. But her jaw tensed.

“You will live in the military wing from now on. You’ll train with the others preparing for the Hero's blessing. I’ll leave your instruction in Liora’s hands. You will address your superiors properly. You will eat in the barracks, train at dawn, and sleep where you’re told. You belong to the military now, and you’ll answer to Commander Kael. Understood?”

Aura gave a slow, respectful nod.

 “Yes… Your Majesty.”

“If you do well, perhaps I’ll raise your status. If not… Then this was a mistake.”

He turned.

His entire demeanor shifted.

Gone was the icy sneer. The weight of his pressure lifted like fog, and warmth bloomed in his voice once more—soft and sweet.

“And you, my dear Rein,” he said with a tender smile, reaching forward and placing a hand on Rein’s shoulder. 

“You’ve been through so much… too much for one so young. Losing your parents… enduring all that horror. But you’re safe now. You’re home.”

He let out a sigh, full of sorrow. 

“From now on, this castle is yours. Whatever you need—just say the word. Quarters will be prepared in the east wing, the sunniest side of the palace. You’ll have a personal butler, and maids will be assigned to you day and night. I’ll even have your old training yard rebuilt. Bigger. Stronger. With live-in instructors—mages, sword masters, anyone you like. You’ll continue your training with the finest this kingdom can offer. Rest here. Heal. I’m just so glad… you’re alive.”

The King paused, then crouched slightly to meet his grandson’s eye level. His voice lowered, gentle now, almost fatherly.

“I know your heart aches, Rein. I lost my son... my only son. And your mother, may she rest peacefully.” 

He didn’t linger on her name.

 “But you must live on, for them. Grow strong. The future of this kingdom... may one day rest on your shoulders.”

He stood up again, brushing his robes straight.

 “For now, though—rest. Take your time. Sleep in. Eat well. You’ll find comfort here, I promise you.”

He snapped his fingers, and a pair of palace servants stepped forward with a soft bow.

“Escort my grandson to his chambers. And see to his every need.”

Then, with a parting smile to Rein, he added warmly, “This is your home, my boy. Everything here... is yours.”

Rein stood still as the servants approached. The King's words echoed in his ears like distant wind—pleasant, meaningless. His legs ached, his body screamed from injuries not fully healed, but none of it compared to the weight of losing his parents.

His voice came out low, almost forced.

“…Thank you, grandfather. For... everything.”