EPISODE 19: Meeting the King

Night had finally returned to a calm, settled rhythm over the city of Koreson — at least as far as swords and spells were concerned. After a string of battles and an exhausting performance that had drained him both physically and spiritually, Zenoda finally made it back to his VIP room at the Silver Swan Inn.

The moment the door closed, Zenoda kicked off his boots. His bones still ached from the strain of forcing fragments of Ursilium's cosmic energy earlier in the Crimson Forest. All he wanted right now was to collapse onto his soft mattress and sleep with the stillness of the dead.

But just as he was about to close his eyes, the three nobles he'd saved swarmed around him like chicks that had lost their mother hen. They still hadn't processed the identity reveal that had taken place out on the grassland.

"Oi, Zenoda," Cedric called, tugging at the edge of his cloak with a demanding expression. "I need an explanation for all of this. What actually happened out there?"

Valerius nodded quickly from the other side of the bed. "He's right, Zenoda. We need an answer that actually makes sense. What is your real connection to those four? How could adventurers at the level of God Wings possibly answer to you?"

Agru, who was usually the quiet one, finally spoke up as well, his eyes burning with overwhelming curiosity. "Yes, Zenoda. What is your true relationship with the God Wings party?"

Hearing the barrage of questions, Zenoda cracked open one eye. He looked at the three nobles with an expression of pure exhaustion.

"You three... are louder than that red-cloaked woman from earlier," Zenoda complained in a hoarse voice. He pulled his blanket up to his chest. "To put it simply. I'm their teacher."

Silence.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

And then, a chorus of disbelief exploded inside the VIP room.

"EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!"

The combined shout from Cedric, Valerius, and Agru rang out so loudly that Zenoda was genuinely worried his window glass might crack. All three of them froze, jaws hanging down to the floor. A student with a D in magic and a C in physical ability was the teacher of one of the most promising adventuring parties in the entire capital? Their sense of reason as nobles had been thoroughly demolished tonight.

After their shared outburst, the three of them simply collapsed onto the carpet beside Zenoda's bed, confused and entirely out of words.

Watching their pitiful state, Zenoda felt a small twinge of sympathy. With minimal effort, he reached over from his bed, grabbed Mincilia's magical knitted blanket they'd used earlier, and tossed it down to cover all three of them.

"Go to sleep. Tomorrow we have a far more troublesome matter to deal with," Zenoda murmured before rolling over and resuming his interrupted rest.

The next morning, sunlight crept through the gap in the window curtains.

Zenoda woke earlier than usual. Not wanting to rely on inn services that might draw unwanted attention, he borrowed the small kitchen in the corner of the VIP room to prepare a simple breakfast. The smell of toasted bread, eggs, and smoked meat soon filled the room.

Once breakfast was arranged neatly on the round table, the three clownish nobles slowly woke up. Although Mincilia's enchanted blanket had given their whip wounds a remarkable boost in physical recovery, they all still looked drained, dark circles ringing their eyes. Apparently, the blanket's calming effect hadn't been strong enough to fully recover their minds from the shock. All night long, they had kept replaying the fact that they had spent weeks insulting and challenging the teacher of a top-rank adventuring party.

They sat at the breakfast table with the stiff, mechanical movements of zombies.

While they chewed their food, the three of them whispered to one another in extremely hushed voices, careful not to be overheard by Zenoda, who was pouring tea across the table.

"Hey," Cedric whispered, leaning his head toward the center.

Agru and Valerius leaned in immediately, forming a small, conspiratorial huddle around him.

"Do you... actually believe what he told us last night?" Cedric whispered, glancing suspiciously toward Zenoda.

Valerius chewed his smoked meat slowly. "Fifty-fifty. I mean, it's completely irrational. By every Academy metric, he's the worst student in our entire cohort."

"As for me, I believe it completely," Agru said with firm certainty.

"How can you be so foolish as to just believe it instantly, Agru?!" Cedric hissed.

"Have you already forgotten what happened last night, Cedric?" Agru fixed both of his friends with a sharp look. "Zenoda is genuinely, absurdly powerful. Remember the forest? He cut through those monsters like he was cutting through open air. And last night, he even matched the speed of Ziryal the Shadow in midair. If Ziryal himself calls him 'Instructor,' who are we to argue?"

Cedric and Valerius fell quiet. The memory of Zenoda's white blade flashing through the air, saving their lives, replayed in their heads. Agru's logic was simply impossible to refute.

While they sat lost in thought, Zenoda — who had been listening to every word of their whispered conversation thanks to his sharp divine hearing — felt a mixture of amusement and irritation.

He picked up his katana, which had been leaning beside his chair. Without drawing the blade from its ebony sheath, he swung it upward from underneath.

THUNK.

The pommel of the scabbard struck the underside of the wooden table directly in the center of their huddle. The blow carried enough force to lift the table slightly off the ground.

"Ow!"

The chins of Cedric, Valerius, and Agru struck the suddenly-raised edge of the table in unison. They yelped and clutched their jaws.

"What's wrong with the three of you? Stop whispering like a pack of starving rats," Zenoda reprimanded them, his expression flat but his eyes carrying unmistakable authority. "Finish your breakfast quickly. I'm sure that woman will be here to collect us for the palace soon."

"O-owhh, oh, ok, right away!" Cedric stammered, hastily devouring the rest of his bread in a panic.

After breakfast, they took turns bathing. The three nobles then faced a new problem. Since they had slipped out the previous night without bringing a change of clothes, they had no choice but to put their Academy uniforms back on — uniforms now thoroughly wrinkled, dust-covered, and singed in several places from the battle in the Crimson Forest and the events of the night before.

Meanwhile, inside his own room, Zenoda was preparing to change. The instant he opened his wardrobe door, he was startled by a soft golden glow emanating from somewhere inside the darkness within.

He pushed the wardrobe door wider. Hanging neatly inside was a long, pristine white coat made from a magical silk fabric that didn't reflect light excessively, yet somehow appeared extraordinarily luxurious. Tribal-patterned cosmic motifs in gold thread were beautifully embroidered along the cuffs, the collar, and across the shoulders at the back in a bold, dignified arrangement. The design was epic yet elegant, without a single hint of gaudiness.

The moment Zenoda touched the coat and put it on, a very soft voice resonated directly within his mind.

"My Lord Ursilium..."

The voice belonged to Mincilia.

"I understand that you will be meeting with the mortal world's highest authority today. As the absolute sovereign, you must not appear ordinary before a human king. So... I sewed and crafted this coat to match the style of your favorite garment back in Zenith. I hope my Lord finds it pleasing."

Hearing such detailed, attentive care from his cosmic attendant, Zenoda couldn't suppress a smile. This garment wasn't merely clothing — it was divine-tier protective enchantment, sewn together with love.

"Thank you, Mincilia. It's perfect," Zenoda whispered quietly, smiling briefly at the empty air.

He wore the standard Koreson Academy uniform underneath, layering the white tribal cosmic-gold coat over it. His entire appearance transformed instantly. He no longer looked like a low-ranked Academy student. He looked like an elite commander, or a high-tier Holy Knight who had just descended from the heavens.

Zenoda secured his katana at his hip and walked out to meet the three clownish nobles in the common area.

Seeing Zenoda step out wearing such a magnificent coat and emanating such an overwhelmingly commanding presence, Cedric, Valerius, and Agru swallowed nervously. They suddenly felt entirely unworthy of standing beside him in their wrinkled, smoke-scented uniforms.

Noticing their dirty clothes, Zenoda sighed quietly. He drew his sword, letting pure mana flow through the blade. He concentrated a touch of water elemental magic, then performed a slow, gentle sweeping motion above their heads.

In an instant, microscopic droplets of enchanted water fell from the air, settling softly across the heads and bodies of all three nobles. Rather than soaking them, the water particles absorbed every trace of dust, scorch marks, and unpleasant odor, then evaporated back into the air.

Their uniforms were instantly spotless, neat, and pressed as crisply as if they had just come from the royal laundry.

Cedric stared at his own sleeve in amazement. "O-owhh... instant cleansing water magic with no incantation at all? Incredible... thank you, Zenoda!"

"Hmmmm," Zenoda only nodded faintly, sheathing his sword. "Let's go. We're leaving now."

The moment all four of them stepped through the Silver Swan Inn's front door, they were greeted by a strikingly elaborate scene.

The street in front of the inn had been closed off. A line of elite royal soldiers in silver armor stood in formation, holding spears upright. At the center of the formation, an extravagant royal carriage — gilded in gold and emblazoned with the Koreson Lion — was waiting.

In front of the carriage door stood Princess Elara Rosecold, dressed in an elegant noble gown. Directly behind her stood four familiar escorts — none other than Karham, Ziryal, Annesia, and Linaya — the God Wings party.

Zenoda rolled his eyes at the excessive ceremony. "Oh, for crying out loud..." he muttered quietly, walking down the inn's front steps.

Elara wore a triumphant smile, feeling herself firmly in the position of advantage having successfully brought a royal escort to retrieve her quarry.

"Zenoda," Elara greeted him formally, gesturing toward the carriage. "The carriage is ready. Please board. My father is waiting for you."

Zenoda stopped directly in front of the carriage door. He looked at it for a moment, then looked at Elara.

"No. Thank you," Zenoda declined, his expression completely flat.

Elara's brow furrowed and her smile vanished instantly. "What do you mean? Why are you refusing?"

"I get motion sickness from land vehicles," Zenoda answered — the single most unconvincing excuse ever uttered by a person capable of moving at the speed of light.

Behind Elara, Karham, Ziryal, Annesia, and Linaya could only exchange bewildered glances. Their instructor got motion sick? Since when?!

Recognizing that Zenoda was simply manufacturing an excuse, Elara's irritation began to surface. "Mister Blanco, this is a royal carriage. The suspension is exceptionally smooth. You will not get sick—"

Zenoda raised a hand, cutting her off. His cunning mind had already settled on the perfect strategy to avoid the awkward confinement of that narrow wooden box.

"Your Highness, please ride in the carriage with Master Agru, Master Cedric, and Master Valerius. The three of them are quite worn out," Zenoda said, gesturing toward the three nobles behind him. "If you don't trust the three of them alone in an enclosed space with you, Annesia and Linaya can keep you company inside as well."

"Yes, but why aren't you—" Elara tried to interject, feeling her authority being challenged in front of her own soldiers.

"If you don't agree, our meeting ends here."

Zenoda delivered the threat as he turned his body, fully intent on walking straight back into the inn.

"W-wait! Don't leave!" Elara cried out, conceding immediately. The snow-haired girl exhaled sharply and stomped her foot in frustration. "Fine! Have it your way, you stubborn man! Soldiers — open the door!"

With a pouting expression, Elara climbed into the carriage, followed by the three thoroughly confused clownish nobles, and then Annesia and Linaya.

The arrangement was set. The royal carriage began rolling forward, cutting through the streets of Koreson toward the palace.

Meanwhile, Zenoda walked alongside the carriage at an unhurried pace, flanked by Karham and Ziryal as his impromptu "escorts."

Along the route, the citizens of Koreson lining the streets couldn't take their eyes off him. They didn't see Zenoda as a commoner at all. Thanks to the white cosmic-gold tribal coat from Mincilia and the dense, commanding aura he carried, the public assumed he was a General Knight or a divine envoy escorting the Princess.

Karham, walking on Zenoda's left, couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer. He glanced sideways at his instructor.

"Instructor..." Karham whispered. "Why did you choose to walk all the way from the inn to the palace like this? Doesn't that exhaust you?"

Zenoda kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, his footsteps making no sound on the paving stones. "Well... I prefer this to sitting still inside a box. To me, being confined in a cramped space is dull. Walking lets me feel the flow of the wind and hear the sounds of the city."

Ziryal, walking on Zenoda's right, continued studying every step his instructor took. His assassin instincts sent a shiver down his spine watching the sheer perfection of Zenoda's movement.

"Hmmmm," Ziryal murmured with admiration. "It's not just boredom, Karham. Look at how the Instructor walks. He never once drops his guard."

"Ehhhh? What do you mean?" Karham asked, confused.

"His pace looks relaxed, but his center of gravity is always set in a ready position," Ziryal explained quietly. "If an assassin's arrow were fired from a rooftop, or an ambush sprang from an alley, the Instructor could draw his sword and eliminate the threat in a fraction of a second. Inside the carriage, his range of motion would be limited. He's choosing to walk so he can protect the entire group."

Hearing Ziryal's analysis, Zenoda only offered a faint, unreadable smile — neither confirming nor denying it. Though in truth... half of his real reason was simply that he had no patience for being crammed into a small space with Elara and the three nobles.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere inside the royal carriage was a complete one-hundred-eighty-degree contrast.

Inside the luxurious red-velvet-lined cabin, an acutely awkward silence dominated the space. Three young men (Cedric, Valerius, Agru) sat on one bench, facing three young women (Elara, Annesia, Linaya) sitting directly across from them. Nobody dared speak. The only sound was the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels rolling over cobblestone.

Agru, sensing that the air inside the carriage was thick enough to suffocate someone from sheer awkwardness, decided this couldn't be allowed to continue.

With a faintly bashful expression, but with the courage befitting an Earth Knight, Agru cleared his throat and looked at the pale-blonde girl seated across from him.

"Um... it's Lady Linaya, correct?" Agru asked politely.

Linaya turned and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm Linaya. What is it, Master Droman?" she replied in soft, formal speech.

"May I... ask you something?"

"As long as it's something I can answer, please go ahead."

Agru glanced toward the window, watching Zenoda's silhouette walking outside, then turned back to Linaya. "Is it true... that Mister Zenoda is the one who trained the God Wings party? I mean, from nothing, all the way to becoming elite adventurers this quickly?"

Without the slightest hesitation, Annesia, seated beside Linaya, leaned forward and answered with a loud, proud voice.

"YES! Mister Zenoda is our one and only, most incredible Instructor!" Annesia declared passionately.

Valerius, seated in the corner with his arms crossed, looked skeptical. "I see. Honestly, personally, I'm still having a hard time believing it. He's a student with a C in physical ability and a D in magic at the Academy."

"Has Mister Zenoda never told any of you about his abilities?" Linaya asked, sounding puzzled.

Cedric shook his head. "No. Not at all. He only admitted he was your teacher last night, after that fight at the city border."

"I see," Linaya nodded with understanding, recognizing her instructor's characteristically guarded nature.

Elara, who had remained quiet up to this point, leaned forward. Her curiosity about the mysterious young man had finally reached its breaking point.

"All of you... how did this all begin? How did you become his students?" Elara asked, her eyes demanding an answer.

At the Princess's question, Linaya and Annesia exchanged a glance and smiled. At last, they began telling the story.

Linaya recounted everything from the beginning. How Zenoda, still a teenager, had single-handedly saved their village from an attack by Ironclad Bears and Shadow Wolves. The brutal first battle in the Crimson Forest. How Zenoda had personally designed their legendary weapons and trained them using methods of extreme — but devastatingly effective — physical conditioning.

Not wanting to be outdone, Annesia added flourishes of Zenoda's childhood. She narrated, with great heroic flair, how a five-year-old Zenoda had lifted an enormous oak log with one hand without breaking a sweat. How at nine he was already being called a magical genius for controlling whirlpools of water. How at twelve he had defeated a veteran swordsman using nothing but a broken wooden sword.

Hearing this string of legendary tales, Elara, Cedric, Valerius, and Agru's eyes went wide. The story sounded like a fictional hero's legend pulled straight out of an ancient tale!

"W-wait a moment!" Valerius interjected in disbelief. "If he's truly been as strong as a monster since childhood... why hasn't he ever shown off that talent at the Academy? Why did he deliberately earn a C and a D? If he wanted to, he could have become a military commander without ever needing to attend school!"

Linaya smiled gently. "That's exactly what sets the Instructor apart from most people, Master Valerius. Mister Zenoda is someone who has never once sought public attention or worldly power."

"That's right!" Annesia added with pride. "The Instructor once told us he isn't searching for recognition. He's only searching for things that genuinely interest him. He wants to live as an ordinary human being, because to him, having everything handed to him easily is unbearably boring."

Hearing that explanation, the trio of clownish nobles could only sit in confused silence. Their minds — trained since birth to believe that power and reputation were everything — simply couldn't comprehend the philosophy of someone genuinely powerful who chose to live a life of deliberate simplicity.

Elara fell silent as well. Her thoughts drifted back to the moment in the Crimson Forest when Zenoda had said: "If I use my full power, what's the point of attending school?"

Now, all the scattered pieces of this puzzle finally clicked together perfectly. This young man, Zenoda Blanco, was not a failing student putting on airs of strength. He was an ancient dragon who had deliberately chained himself in order to play among the koi in a garden pond.

Once the stories of the past concluded, Linaya turned the conversation toward asking about their instructor's behavior at the Academy. A long, animated exchange filled the rest of the carriage ride, full of laughter and surprise, dissolving the last traces of awkwardness between them.

Before they knew it, the carriage wheels rolled to a stop. A soldier opened the door.

"Have we arrived?" Zenoda's voice called from outside the carriage.

"Yes, Instructor. We've reached the palace courtyard," Karham answered.

Elara and her companions stepped out of the carriage. Before them rose the most magnificent structure in all of Koreson — the Royal Castle. Its towers seemed to touch the clouds, its walls built from glowing white marble, and a golden banner bearing the Lion emblem rippled in the wind.

"Follow me," Elara instructed.

Without further conversation, Elara led them through the front gates, guarded by dozens of Knights. They walked through long marble-pillared corridors until they finally arrived before the main entrance of the Throne Room.

The enormous doors opened slowly, accompanied by the sound of welcoming trumpets.

As the group stepped inside, the atmosphere inside the room instantly turned sacred and heavy. At the far end of the long red carpet, atop a marble dais, three figures were already waiting for them.

At the center sat the King of Koreson — a middle-aged man wearing a golden crown, a magnificent crimson robe, and a gaze as sharp as a hawk's. To his left sat the elegant Queen. And to the right of the throne stood a female Sister in sacred robes — a royal cleric capable of reading the aura of a living soul.

Zenoda stepped forward. As his eyes swept across the grandeur of the throne room, a strange feeling washed through the deepest part of his heart. He felt... a touch of nostalgia.

This sight reminded him of the days when he sat upon the throne of Zenith, looking down upon angels and lesser gods prostrating themselves before him. He had once ruled in exactly this manner — on a scale incomparably vaster — commanding billions of galaxies.

The group came to a stop several paces before the steps of the throne.

Elara stepped forward immediately and knelt on one knee. "Greetings, Father. Your Majesty, King of Koreson."

Seeing the royal Princess kneel, Karham, Ziryal, Annesia, Linaya, Cedric, Valerius, and Agru automatically lowered their heads and bowed deeply across the carpet as well.

But... a moment later, everyone in the throne hall realized that one person was still standing perfectly upright, like a pillar.

Zenoda remained standing for a long moment. His eyes looked straight ahead.

The King's brow furrowed, sensing his authority being challenged. He fixed his gaze on the black-haired young man wearing the gold-tribal white coat.

But the instant their two pairs of eyes locked together—

DZZZZTTT...

The King suddenly gasped. His body jolted backward, his spine striking the back of the throne. Cold sweat the size of corn kernels broke out across his forehead instantly. His crown suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

In the King's eyes, the young man standing below the dais had suddenly grown to an impossible, boundless size. The illusion of a colossal cosmic silhouette eclipsing the sun and the stars seemed to loom behind the young man's body. The King of Koreson — ruler of millions of human lives — felt his deepest instincts scream in primal terror, sensing that he was being looked at by an "Absolute Symbol of Power" capable of crushing his entire continent with a single exhale.

A suffocating silence fell over the throne room. The female Sister standing beside the King had gone equally pale, gripping her holy staff with trembling hands as she felt a divine aura leaking from Zenoda.

Realizing he had let himself slip slightly into nostalgia for Zenith and had unconsciously radiated his natural arrogance, Zenoda blinked. He immediately pressed Ursilium's cosmic aura back down to the depths of his soul.

"Ah... I got a bit too lost in my own thoughts. I need to remember — here, I am a commoner," Zenoda thought, feeling a small pang of guilt for having terrified the mortal ruler before him.

He corrected his posture at once.

Zenoda dropped into a graceful semi-kneeling position, lowering his body with considerable elegance. He clenched his right fist and pressed it directly over his heart, bowing his head in the perfect gesture of a true knight's salute.

"Forgive my discourtesy and my error, Your Majesty," Zenoda's voice resonated through the silent room — calm, but carrying genuine weight. "I was somewhat overcome by the magnificence of your palace. I hope Your Majesty possesses a heart generous enough to forgive my trivial impertinence."

The apology was delivered with such elegance and refined grace.

The King, still steadying his breathing, blinked. The terrifying illusion vanished instantly. He swallowed, genuinely impressed by the young man's sudden shift in demeanor. What Zenoda had just demonstrated was not the posture of a frightened rebel — it was the deference of a dragon showing respect to its host.

The King leaned forward, his gaze now carrying a rare measure of genuine respect.

"You... possess remarkable insight and an extraordinary manner of speech, young man. Humble despite the power you carry," the King said, his voice once again thunderous but no longer laced with anger. "Very well, I accept your apology in good faith."

The King then gestured for everyone to rise from their bowed positions.

"Stand, all of you," the King commanded. His eyes settled on Zenoda and the three nobles behind him. "Let us set formality aside now. Let us proceed to the true purpose of our meeting today."

The real battle on the political stage of Koreson was about to begin.