The Ten Chosen Participants

e king’s voice echoed through the great hall, his gaze sweeping across the gathered nobles and knights.

“This banquet is not merely to celebrate the First King’s legacy,” he declared, his tone firm. “It is a trial — to honor his glory and to measure the strength of this generation. Ten participants will step forward to challenge the First King’s clone, bearing the pride of our kingdom.”

The hall erupted in murmurs. Some nobles whispered in excitement, others in fear.

“First, the Third Royal Army: The Crimson Talons.”

The heavy steps of armored men and women shook the ground as they marched forth. Their crimson-plated armor reflected the golden light of the chandeliers, and their weapons gleamed with killing intent.

Leo’s eyes narrowed, confusion flickering in his gaze. Third Army? Then what of the First and Second?

Aria, sitting gracefully beside him, leaned closer with a teasing smile. “Brother, you look lost. Should I explain?”

He said nothing, but she continued anyway.

“The First Army, the Shield of Eternity—they guard the throne itself, sworn to protect the royal bloodline.”

“The Second Army, the Blades of Dawn—swift executioners, sent to crush rebellion and silence threats.”

“And finally, the Third Army, the Crimson Talons—vanguards who charge first into any battle, their legacy painted in red.”

Her voice softened. “But after the First King died and the Demon Lord vanished, so too did the demons. With no enemy left to fight, our kingdom fractured, and the armies weakened.”

Leo’s gaze deepened, his fists tightening slightly under the table. So… my kingdom has rotted this much in my absence.

The king’s voice broke the silence.

“Second, Noah Sardinia, son of Viscount Sardinia.”

A tall, lean boy stepped forward. His black cloak swayed lightly as he moved, his sharp eyes glimmering with something distant, something almost… detached. His presence wasn’t overwhelming, but Leo’s instincts sharpened. He felt something strange, almost familiar.

That one… who are you?

Noah stood silently, offering no greeting, his lips curving into a faint smirk as if amused by something only he knew.

“Third, Lady Selene Arkwright, prodigy of the Mage Tower.”

A woman in sapphire robes strode forward, her silver hair tied neatly behind her head. The air shimmered faintly around her, a subtle pressure of mana making weaker nobles shift uncomfortably in their seats. She bowed with grace, but her eyes shone with icy pride.

Leo’s mind flickered. Mage? Hmph. I’ve seen true magic, and it was nothing like this.

“Fourth, Sir Cedric Valtor, the kingdom’s greatest swordsman.”

The tall knight walked forward, his silver blade resting at his hip. His presence was calm yet sharp, his footsteps steady as if every step carried purpose. When his gaze briefly met Leo’s, Cedric paused, noticing the faint flicker of rage hiding in the boy’s cold eyes.

Why does he look at me so? Cedric wondered, a thought he pushed aside as he bowed before the king.

“Fifth, Lady Evelyne Marlowe, the kingdom’s court mage.”

A woman of flowing crimson hair stepped forward, her staff encrusted with ruby gems. Her smile was soft, but her aura was suffocating, making even seasoned knights uneasy. Unlike Selene, her magic hummed with wild, untamed force.

Leo’s eyes narrowed. Mage of this kingdom? You wouldn’t even be fit to polish the boots of the archmage I once knew.

“Sixth, Prince Aldria of the Royal Family.”

The muscular prince walked with a confident, childlike grin, waving to the nobles as if basking in their cheers. His aura was strong, his steps heavy, but his carefree expression made him look less like a warrior and more like a playful brute.

“Seventh, Prince Cyrus of the Royal Family.”

Sharp-eyed and cold, Cyrus followed behind Aldria. His cruel smirk curled as his eyes swept the hall. “Tch, let’s see how many rats crawl out tonight,” he muttered under his breath, his words laced with venom.

Leo’s hand twitched, rage flickering in his chest. In my time, princes knew respect before their king. You dare mock me, boy…

“Eighth, Captain Roderic of the Blades of Dawn.”

A tall man in black and gold armor stepped forward. His posture was strict, every move calculated. His reputation as commander of the Second Army’s elite strike unit carried with it the weight of countless executions.

“Ninth, General Kael of the Shield of Eternity.”

An older man, broad-shouldered and armored in blue steel, strode forward with the dignity of a veteran. His presence was heavy, like an unmovable fortress. He knelt before the king, his loyalty unquestionable.

“And finally,” the king said, his voice rising. “The Tenth participant—”

The hall went quiet, every ear straining for the name.

“—a challenger chosen by fate itself.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Murmurs of confusion spread like wildfire.

Leo’s crimson eyes gleamed faintly, his lips curving into the barest hint of a cold smile.
So this is how it will be. Very well. Let us see who dares stand before me.