The Shape of Resolve

For the first time, the king smiled genuinely. There was something in Rokuro’s answer—a flicker of resolve that felt real. The kind the Lock of prophecy was supposed to have.

“Well said, young man. Or should I finally call you Lock?”

“Lock still sounds… weird. Just call me Rokuro.”

“Very well. Rokuro, are you ready to begin the Ritual of the Gatekeeper?”

Before he could ask what that even meant, Lucas stepped in. “It’s your initiation. You’ll be granted your artifact… and your aide.”

Artifacts. Aides. Too many terms, too little time. Rokuro just nodded. “Let’s get it over with.”

The king gestured to Lucas, who led him deeper into the glowing chamber. Past the radiant Gate, they stopped before a pedestal carved with swirling patterns, glowing faint blue like it was breathing. The king approached and removed a gem from his crown, placing it into a slot in the pedestal.

A soft click echoed—then the markings turned crimson and pulsed like a heartbeat. The pedestal sank into the floor… and another rose beside it.

This one bore no slot. At its top rested a strange object: metallic, sleek, shaped like an open cuff. A bracelet… no, a gauntlet. Sharp edges. A faint violet shimmer.

“This is the Gauntlet of the Gatekeeper, Master Lock,” Lucas said, voice reverent. “Your artifact.”

Rokuro stepped closer. The pedestal and gauntlet seemed to exhale light—an ethereal glow that reached for his skin.

He didn’t question it. He didn’t want to. His hand moved as if drawn in.

The metal was warm. Warmer than it had any right to be.

SNAP.

The edges snapped shut around his wrist.

“Oi—! What the hell is—”

Pain exploded through his arm as the gauntlet tightened, its plates writhing and folding, slithering up his palm like liquid steel. A thousand hot needles jabbed through muscle and bone, and Rokuro dropped to his knees, clutching his arm, teeth grinding.

“Master Lock!” Lucas rushed forward—

“Leave him,” the king commanded. “This is part of the binding.”

Seconds passed like hours.

Then, the pain eased.

When Rokuro opened his eyes, the gauntlet had fully fused with his skin. Sleek, intricate, dark silver patterned with glowing violet and blue lines. A crystalline core pulsed at its center—like a beating heart.

“…The hell is this thing…?” he muttered, still breathless.

“Well done, Master Lock,” Lucas said with a proud grin.

“It seems you and the Gauntlet of the Gatekeeper resonated well,” the king added.

Rokuro’s eyebrow twitched. “Wait— resonated? You mean it could have rejected me?”

The king chuckled. “There’s always a chance. Had I tried, I’d be short a hand right now.”

“That’s what makes you the destined Lock,” Lucas said. Rokuro groaned.

Then the world tilted sideways.

“Woah—” He staggered, barely catching himself before Lucas steadied him.

“You’ve had a rough day,” the king said calmly. “The ritual takes its toll. Lucas, escort him to a room. Make sure he rests.”

“At once, Your Majesty.”

Lucas led Rokuro through the palace corridors once more. This time, no king beside him. Just a gauntlet of myth clinging to his arm—and dozens of bowing servants watching him pass.

“Why are they bowing?” he asked.

“To you, Master Lock.”

“…Me?” Rokuro smiled wryly, “You sure they got the right guy?”

“You’re a figure of legend in Portalia. The Lock who appears when darkness rises. You’ll be revered by millions.”

Rokuro raised an eyebrow. “I was getting nagged to go to school only yesterday…”

Lucas chuckled. “Legends don’t care what you were before. Only what you’ll become from here on.”

What he’ll become… Rokuro’s heartbeat rose. Could he live up to that?

They walked in silence for a moment before Rokuro broke it again. “Say, Lucas…”

“Yes, Master Lock?”

“How was I even summoned here?”

“Through an ancient ritual. When evil threatens the realms, the Lock must be summoned. It’s the duty of Portalia—and our king—to summon and protect the Lock and the Gate.”

“The Gate?”

Lucas nodded. “The one beneath the palace. The chamber is the most secure place in all the kingdom. We’ve guarded it for centuries.”

“And the summoning?”

“Only the king can perform it. I’m afraid I can’t say more.”

“Figures,” Rokuro sighed. “So… what else do I need to do before I become this legendary hero?”

“You’ve received your artifact. Tomorrow, you’ll manifest your Key.”

“My what?”

“Every sky needs its clouds. Every captain needs a ship. And every lock needs its key.”

Rokuro paused.

“…Come again?”

“Master Lucas!”

A servant rushed over, bowing deeply. “Apologies, but the king has summoned you.”

“Understood.” Lucas turned to Rokuro. “The head maid will escort you to your quarters.”

“Oi, wait—”

“Have a good night, Master Lock.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Rokuro stood alone.

“…What in the blue hell is a Key?”

╒ 🗝 ╛

“Here are your quarters, Master Lock.”

A maid opened the door to an enormous suite—fit for royalty. Rokuro, still unsteady from everything he’d experienced, offered a half-hearted wave. “Uh… thanks.”

The maid curtsied and quietly closed the door.

Rokuro turned to the room. His jaw dropped.

A king-sized bed. A polished tea table. A couch, a private bath, furniture that probably cost more than his entire apartment complex.

“Damn…”

He didn’t even know where to walk first. Just standing there made him feel like he’d stain the floor.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. Another maid entered, pushing a silver cart stacked with trays.

“Your dinner, Master Lock.”

She kept her gaze low as she set the dishes down with practiced precision. Not a single glance toward him.

“…Hey,” Rokuro muttered.

“Yes, Master Lock?” she replied, head still bowed.

“You sure nobody else lives here? This place is way too big for one guy.”

She blinked. “That is correct. These quarters are yours alone. Are they not to your liking?”

“N-No, they’re fine.” He scratched the back of his head. “Just feels a bit wasted on me.”

“If I may speak freely… they are as grand as you deserve.”

“Eh?”

She bowed deeper. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”

Before he could respond, she was already heading to the door. She apologized once more before leaving, saying she’d be just outside if he needed anything.

Rokuro slumped into the chair.

All this attention, this treatment—it didn’t sit right with him. Not when he was just some dropout who used to dodge school and street brawls. Now he was getting served like a damn prince?

It was suffocating.

Still… the food was insane.

After stuffing himself with half the kingdom’s rations, and soaking in a bath that smelled like heaven distilled, Rokuro finally returned to the bedroom, hair down and robe loose.

He sat on the bed. In his hand was a simple pendant—crudely made, uneven, barely holding together.

It was from Kana. His little sister. The one he couldn’t protect.

Or maybe… the one he still could.

Could he really stop all of it from happening? The burning buildings. The empty streets. The screaming.

Did his world think he was dead?

He didn’t want to think about that yet.

So instead, he clutched the pendant, pressing it to his chest, and hung it around his neck.

He swore to wear it until he could return it to her.

He swore he’d fix everything. Somehow.

The gem in his gauntlet pulsed faintly—just once. As if responding to his vow.

It didn’t feel like armor. More like… an extension of him now. No weight. No discomfort.

What could it even do? Blast things? Shoot lasers? Magic existed here, right?

He’d find out soon enough.

But for now…

“Ugh… tomorrow…” His headache flared up again, pushing back all the swirling thoughts.

Rokuro collapsed onto the bed, eyes already drifting shut.

He didn’t have all the answers.

But he had a reason.

And that was enough.