Chapter 51 : Protocol: Dinner

The halls of the palace stretched endlessly, lit by floating lanterns of pale gold that whispered as they drifted. Every step Riven and his team took echoed too loudly against polished marble, as though the castle itself were listening.

Guards lined the corridors—silent, armored, unmoving. Not a single face was visible beneath their helms.

Lucy walked close to Eli, one hand resting gently on the girl’s shoulder. Julius cracked his neck, unimpressed, while David scanned every archway like he expected something to jump out at them.

“This place screams ‘ceremonial trap,’” Julius muttered.

Riven said nothing.

They stopped before a massive door—iron reinforced with gold veins, ancient sigils etched deep into the metal. Power radiated from it, old and heavy.

The doors groaned as they opened inward.

Inside lay a grand dining hall, its ceiling so high it disappeared into shadow. A table stretched across the room, laden with dishes unlike anything they’d seen—roasted meats glowing with enchantments, fruits that shimmered like gemstones, steam rising with unfamiliar scents.

No king.

The guards ushered them in, boots striking stone in perfect rhythm—then stepped back outside.

The doors slammed shut.

Locks clicked. Bolts slid home.

Julius laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Called it.”

They took their seats. The silence lingered, thick enough to choke on.

Then—

Another door opened.

This one smaller. Discreet.

Three robed figures entered first—high mages, their presence bending the air around them. Runes floated faintly above their shoulders, eyes glowing with restrained power.

Behind them came the king.

He moved with measured steps, crown gleaming softly, gaze sharp and assessing. He seated himself at the head of the table as the mages took position behind him.

“Heroes of another world,” the king said, voice calm, practiced. “I bid thee welcome. Pray, eat. Be at ease. Tonight, thou art honored guests of Eldoria.”

Julius didn’t wait a second.

“Spare me the bullshit,” he said flatly. “We’re not here for your food. Tell us why you really dragged us here.”

The mages stiffened instantly.

Hands twitched. Mana flared.

Before anyone could speak, the king raised one hand.

Silence fell.

“I understand thy ire,” the king said evenly. “To be taken from one’s home, cast into a realm unknown—where tongue, custom, and even sustenance differ—would unsettle any soul. Hostility is no sin born of fear.”

David leaned forward, eyes hard. “We’re not afraid of anything. Just tell us why we’re here.”

The king’s gaze shifted—briefly—to Riven.

Riven hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t moved. His eyes were locked on the king like a blade pressed to skin.

Eli tugged Lucy’s sleeve. “Miss Lucy… I’m hungry.”

Lucy hesitated, eyes flicking to the table, then to Riven.

Riven gave a small nod.

Lucy smiled faintly. “Go on.”

Eli began to eat.

The king watched this, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

Then he spoke.

“You have been summoned for one purpose alone,” he said. “To defeat the Demon King.”

Kira stiffened. “Demon… king?”

Julius scoffed loudly. “Oh, come on. Demon king? What is this—some fantasy novel?”

Cipher leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Doesn’t sound that weird to me. I’ve seen worse. Way worse.” He glanced at Riven. “You?”

Riven finally spoke.

“Continue.”

The king felt it then—the pressure. Raw, restrained power. Not magic. Something else.

“The veil betwixt our world and the Demon Realm frays,” the king said gravely. “When it falls, demons shall walk freely upon Eldorian soil. Cities will burn. Kingdoms will fall. As king, I cannot permit such an end.”

Riven nodded once. “So where do we fit into this?”

“As summoned heroes, it is thy destiny to slay the Demon King and preserve this world.”

“Why?” Riven asked calmly. “We were taken by force. Not choice.”

The king lowered his gaze. “We were… desperate.”

Riven’s eyes sharpened. “What about your mages?”

A pause.

“We have lost many,” the king said quietly. “Countless lives. Our peace endures only because of heroes summoned long ago.”

Riven’s breath slowed.

“Heroes,” he repeated. “Three of them.”

The king’s eyes widened slightly.

“Yes,” he said. “Three champions from beyond the veil subdued the Demon King in ages past. But he rises anew. His forces gather beyond the barrier. Some have already slipped through.”

Riven’s thoughts raced.

Three heroes. Summoned. Execution Code. Altis—

The doors burst open.

“Your Majesty!” a guard shouted, bloodied, panicked. “Demons—at the outer districts! They’re attacking!”

The room erupted.

The king stood immediately, turning to Riven.

“This,” he said, voice heavy, urgent, “is the reality we face. I beg thee—stand with us. Show Eldoria that her heroes have returned.”

Riven rose slowly.

The room held its breath.

His eyes burned—not with magic, but with resolve.

“We’ll talk about destiny later,” he said. “Right now—”

A distant explosion shook the palace.

“—we’ve got demons to deal with.”