EPISODE 20: The Discussion

Inside the magnificent Throne Room, the atmosphere remained heavy with solemnity. After Zenoda's impressive show of respect had defused the initial tension, the King of Koreson finally settled back upright upon his throne.

The King looked over the young faces gathered before him, then cleared his throat softly to begin the official discussion.

"Before we begin the true matter at hand, allow me to introduce myself directly," the King said, his baritone voice carrying across every corner of the hall. "My name is Ronan Rosecold, sovereign of the Kingdom of Koreson. The woman seated beside me is my wife, Queen Enia Rosecold. And the woman standing with her staff to the right of the throne is Nirli Milianda, the High Saint of our nation."

King Ronan then looked directly at Zenoda. "And I am genuinely pleased that you accepted my invitation to come here, Master Zenoda Blanco."

Zenoda bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for the invitation, Your Majesty. Although the method was somewhat... unconventional, I can understand the reasoning behind it."

Hearing that phrasing, King Ronan's brow knit in confusion. "Unconventional?"

The King's gaze immediately shifted to his eldest daughter, Elara, kneeling a short distance from Zenoda. Feeling the subtle jab directed her way, Elara could only look away, putting on an awkward expression and pretending to know nothing about it at all.

Seeing his daughter's reaction, King Ronan exhaled at length. He knew Elara's habits all too well by now. The King pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose and muttered quietly, "Forgive my daughter," to Zenoda.

The King refocused and resumed the discussion.

"Very well, let us begin with the primary reason we summoned you here," Ronan said, his tone turning serious. "First, regarding the actions of the three nobles standing behind you. They used a prohibited substance that endangered the lives of fellow students and corrupted the order of the Crimson Forest. According to the reports, you were both the primary victim and the one who stopped them. So... what punishment, or compensation, would you like me to impose on these three, Master Zenoda?"

Cedric, Valerius, and Agru held their breath instantly. The lives and futures of their families now rested entirely in Zenoda's hands. If Zenoda asked for their execution or banishment, the King would undoubtedly grant it.

But Zenoda's answer surprised everyone in the room.

"Your Majesty," Zenoda began calmly. "For these three, I only ask that they receive a full pardon, and that the palace extend them special protection for their lives going forward. That is my only request."

A brief silence followed. King Ronan looked at Zenoda with searching eyes. "You have no objection to that? They nearly killed you and your companions."

"Your Majesty, they have already shown genuine, sincere remorse for their mistakes," Zenoda answered with quiet wisdom, recalling how Agru had shielded him, and how Cedric had been willing to die alongside his friends. "I believe that is sufficient. Punishing them further would provide no benefit to anyone."

King Ronan offered a thin smile, genuinely moved by the young man's magnanimity. "Very well. I consider their offense forgiven. I will issue a confidential decree guaranteeing their protection from the wrath of their respective Grand Dukes."

The three clownish nobles nearly burst into tears of relief on the spot, though they restrained themselves out of respect for the King's presence.

"Next," Ronan continued, his expression darkening considerably. "The palace's investigation team recovered shattered glass tube fragments at the scene. Upon examination by Saint Nirli, the tube contained traces of pure Miasma — a mana substance contaminated by negative energy and high-tier curses. This liquid is exceptionally dangerous, as it corrupts living ecosystems and forces monsters into involuntary mutation."

King Ronan leaned forward, fixing his sharp gaze on Cedric, Valerius, and Agru. "So I ask the three of you directly. Where, precisely, did you obtain this prohibited substance?"

Cedric, who now felt his life genuinely indebted to both Zenoda and the King, no longer dared to lie. He stepped forward, trembling.

"P-permission to answer, Your Majesty," Cedric said haltingly. "I... I discovered access to it by chance, inside a hidden cabinet belonging to my father, the Grand Duke of House Thundra. Before I enrolled at the Academy, my father took me to a slum district outside the city. He brought me into a secret underground black market, and that is where I purchased it from a hooded merchant. I did not know the terrible mutation effects of the substance until we used it in the forest."

At the mention of House Thundra, King Ronan's eyes flashed with anger, though he reined it in quickly. Corruption among the high nobility had clearly crossed a line of tolerance.

"I see. I understand," King Ronan said coldly, committing the information to memory. "The three of you may step back."

The King then returned his attention to Zenoda. "And lastly... Zenoda."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"I received a report from my personal intelligence network," the King said, his voice dropping slightly. "During your journey from your coastal village to Koreson, I heard that you and the God Wings party were involved in liberating a small village from a bandit occupation. Is that accurate?"

"It is, Your Majesty," Zenoda answered, nodding without any attempt to conceal the fact.

King Ronan exhaled slowly and settled back against his throne. "According to my intelligence, the bandits who called themselves the Bloody Tusk were not an ordinary band of criminals. They were pawns of a much larger shadow organization... an organization that has now become a primary fugitive and grave enemy to several nations on this continent. That organization is called the Purple Snake."

At that name, Karham, standing in the back row, let out an involuntary murmur. "Purple Snake?!"

As a Guild adventurer, Karham knew precisely how lethal that name was. They were the most dangerous assassination and black-market trafficking syndicate operating in the underworld.

"Yes," King Ronan nodded gravely. "The information that Purple Snake has begun sinking its fangs into territory near this very capital remains classified at the highest level. I have not made this public, as I do not wish my people to live in mass panic and fear."

The King looked at each young person in the hall in turn, his eyes carrying genuine hope. "At first, I remained silent because there was no concrete movement from this organization. But after the Miasma incident in the Crimson Forest — one connected directly to a Grand Duke's access — I have become genuinely concerned. Purple Snake is exceptionally difficult to trace; their movements are like shadows in the night. So... I place my hope in all of you — the promising generation. If you discover even the smallest detail connected to this organization, or to the Miasma, inform me directly and immediately."

Zenoda, his students, and the three nobles answered together, "Yes, Your Majesty!"

King Ronan smiled with satisfaction. "Very well. Since I have finished everything I wished to discuss, our formal business concludes here. You are all free to leave the throne room. As a token of my gratitude for your assistance in protecting my daughter, I have prepared a luncheon in the Royal Dining Hall. A servant standing at the door on the left will escort you. Please, enjoy yourselves."

Everyone in the room exhaled with relief. The tension finally dissolved. Karham, Ziryal, Annesia, Linaya, Cedric, Valerius, and Agru bowed respectfully, then turned to make their way toward the dining hall to fill their growling stomachs.

As Zenoda also turned to walk out alongside his students, the King's deep voice suddenly stopped him in his tracks.

"Zenoda. Wait."

Zenoda halted. He turned around, as did everyone else who heard the King's command.

"Zenoda," King Ronan repeated, his expression unreadable. "You will remain in this room a moment longer. The rest of you... you may go."

Karham and the others exchanged confused glances, but none of them dared challenge a direct command from the King. They bowed and obeyed, walking slowly out of the hall until the massive doors closed, leaving Zenoda alone facing three royal figures and Elara.

Sensing something was wrong, Elara stepped forward toward her father's throne.

"Father," Elara pressed, looking at her father with concern. "Why are you calling Zenoda back privately like this? Our discussion concluded, didn't it?"

King Ronan looked at his daughter for a moment, then turned his gaze to Zenoda, who stood calmly in the center of the hall. "Very well. I'll be direct."

SHWIP. CLANG!

Without any warning whatsoever, the marble floor beneath Zenoda's feet suddenly blazed with an extraordinarily bright golden magic circle.

The spell activated in microseconds. Dozens of golden light chains shot up from the floor and wrapped tightly around Zenoda's legs, waist, arms, and chest! The chains locked on with crushing force, sealing every one of his joints so that he couldn't move at all.

"W-what?!" Zenoda feigned shock, though his eyes remained perfectly calm.

"I wish to ask you something, Zenoda Blanco," King Ronan said, his aura shifting into something deeply oppressive — the demeanor of a master interrogator. "Why do you hide your true power and talent at the Academy? Why have you deceived the kingdom's evaluation system? Tell me the truth. Who are you, and what is your purpose in infiltrating the heart of Koreson?"

Bound by the magical chains, Zenoda didn't struggle. He simply exhaled quietly, lowered his head, and answered in a tone that remained perfectly polite.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Zenoda answered. "The reason is quite simple. I dislike standing out too prominently with regard to talent and ability. I only wish to attend school and live a peaceful life."

"Do not lie to me, Zenoda!" King Ronan snapped, his voice ringing loudly through the hall. "An attitude of 'only wanting peace' does not align with killing three high-tier elemental mutant monsters within seconds! If you remain stubbornly silent... I will instruct Saint Nirli to drain every drop of your mana through those chains until you lose consciousness!"

Watching the situation devolve into a lethal interrogation, Elara could not stand by silently. She stepped forward decisively, placing herself between her father and Zenoda.

"What is the meaning of this, Father?!" Elara protested loudly, her eyes blazing with anger. "Why are you doing this to him? He saved my life in that forest! He is not a threat to Koreson!"

"Forgive me, Elara. Step back," King Ronan commanded firmly. "To be honest, I find myself somewhat unable to fully trust this young man. His origins are far too unclear, and his power is far too immense. He could very well be a spy from a rival empire — or even from the Purple Snake itself, sent to grow close to you."

Listening to the exchange, Zenoda — still bound by the golden chains — remained quiet for a moment. Then he raised his head and offered a calm, reassuring smile to the snow-haired girl defending him.

"Don't worry yourself, Your Highness," Zenoda said in an easy, unhurried tone, as though discussing the weather. "I won't be brought down by some decorative chains."

Hearing the unmistakable arrogance laced into that statement, King Ronan fixed Saint Nirli with a hard look. "Proceed."

Nirli understood the King's intent at once. She raised her holy staff. "Mana Drain!"

The golden chains coiled around Zenoda's body blazed with blinding light. A high-tier mana extraction spell activated, forcibly siphoning the life energy directly out of the young man's body.

Zenoda, however, remained standing upright. He accepted the sensation with total calm. For Zenoda — who had sealed away his cosmic energy — the surface-level mortal mana he possessed was genuinely small (D-tier in value). So when the chains began to drain it, he simply allowed his mortal mana to be completely exhausted.

As time passed, the chains continued siphoning his mana, and their grip tightened until Zenoda's muscles groaned under the pressure. King Ronan continued repeating the same question over and over: "Who is behind you?!"

But Zenoda kept giving the same answer each time. "I am only a student who prefers a quiet life, Your Majesty."

Before long, Zenoda's face had turned visibly pale. With the mana on the surface of his body nearly depleted and the physical pressure of the golden chains crushing against his lungs, a single thin line of fresh blood began trickling from the corner of his mouth. His mortal vessel was approaching the reasonable limit of this kind of torment.

Watching the young man bleed while his eyes still showed not the slightest trace of malicious intent, Queen Enia — who had remained silent the entire time — finally spoke up. Her maternal heart could no longer bear to watch.

"Ronan, that's enough," Queen Enia said gently but firmly, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "If you genuinely still don't trust him, then simply hold him in the palace dungeon for the time being while we investigate further. Release that spell. He has already reached his physical limit, regardless."

Hearing the Queen's compassion, Zenoda — even while enduring the pain in his chest — managed a faint smile.

"The Queen is truly wise and full of compassion," Zenoda said, his voice slightly hoarse but remarkably steady. "But... I don't believe a prison cell will be necessary."

"What?" King Ronan, Queen Enia, Elara, and Saint Nirli all flinched in unison.

In the midst of their collective shock, Zenoda slowly shifted his posture. He drew a short breath. He stopped relying on his depleted mortal mana entirely, and instead activated the smallest fraction of his pure biomechanical muscular ability.

He clenched his right fist with tremendous force. The muscles of his arm tensed until the veins stood out visibly along its length.

CRACK! SHATTER!

With a single, purely physical exertion, the high-tier golden magical chain binding his right arm shattered into countless fragments, exactly like glass struck by a sledgehammer!

"Impossible!" Saint Nirli shrieked, stumbling backward in disbelief. The golden chain was specifically engineered to restrain a fully grown dragon's rampage — and this young man had broken it using nothing but raw physical force, without a single trace of magic.

With his right hand now free, Zenoda immediately drew his katana. The silver-white blade radiated its deadly gleam.

SHRIIING.

With a single, blindingly fast horizontal slash, Zenoda severed every remaining golden chain binding his body, waist, and legs. The magical chains evaporated into glowing dust.

Free of his bindings, Zenoda spun his sword with practiced ease.

"You won't get away!" Saint Nirli shouted in panic. She raised her staff at once, attempting to invoke a second-tier binding spell.

But before Nirli could complete even the first syllable of her incantation, Zenoda's figure had already vanished from where he stood.

WHOOOSH.

A powerful gust of wind swept through the hall. In under half a second, Zenoda had crossed the entire length of the red carpet, ascended the marble steps, and was now standing directly in front of Saint Nirli.

The tip of his silvery-white blade now rested lightly against the pulse point of her throat. His gaze was as cold as ice.

Nirli froze in place, her staff nearly slipping from her grip. Cold sweat ran freely down her neck, directly beneath the edge of Zenoda's blade. "H-how is this possible... this can't be happening..." Nirli murmured in terror.

Watching the raw speed and pure power that had allowed Zenoda to breach the absolute defenses of the palace in the blink of an eye, King Ronan was stunned beyond words. His hand instinctively moved behind the throne.

Yet Queen Enia remained seated, perfectly composed. She watched Zenoda with an expression of genuine interest.

"Extraordinary power," Queen Enia remarked quietly. "But my question is... why haven't you continued your attack, Master Blanco?"

Hearing the Queen's question, Zenoda did not move his sword an inch from Nirli's throat — but a sardonic smile appeared on his lips.

"Don't play games with me, Your Majesty the Queen," Zenoda answered calmly, his eyes flicking sharply toward the marble tiles surrounding the throne. "I knew from the very beginning that you had quietly set an area-of-effect trap formation within a ten-meter radius around yourself and the King. If I were to take one more step forward to kill this Saint or attack the two of you... you would immediately activate a spell summoning thorned ice pillars from beneath the floor to skewer me straight through, wouldn't you?"

Queen Enia's eyes widened. She hadn't expected her invisible magic to be read so effortlessly.

Zenoda then shifted his gaze to King Ronan's concealed hand. "And furthermore, I know that Your Majesty the King is currently concealing a heirloom blade behind the back of your throne. That sword radiates a remarkably refined magical resonance, and its aura camouflage is exceptionally well-crafted — enough that an ordinary person would never realize a sacred enchanted sword was sitting there, ready to take my head off at a moment's notice."

A deeply chilling silence dominated the throne room.

King Ronan slowly withdrew his hand from behind the chair, releasing his grip on the royal heirloom sword he had never had the chance to use. The King looked at the black-haired young man before him with an expression caught somewhere between shock, admiration, and overwhelming relief.

Suddenly, the King's deep baritone laughter erupted, filling the entire room.

"Hahahaha! You are truly remarkable, Zenoda! Absolutely extraordinary!" King Ronan laughed, slapping his own knee. Every trace of tension and hostility had vanished from his voice entirely.

The King rose from his throne, smiling broadly. "Very well, very well. I concede. Forgive me for the harshness of my methods just now. What you just demonstrated has made something clear to me... Despite possessing the speed and power to take Elara, my daughter, hostage, or to kill my Saint this very instant and flee — you chose to do neither."

King Ronan descended the steps, looking at Zenoda with profound respect. "You remained stubbornly in place, even allowing yourself to be wounded by a mana-draining spell, simply to prove that your position was genuine and that you posed no threat to Koreson. Loyalty to one's own convictions like that cannot be faked by any spy, regardless of skill. I salute you, young man."

Hearing such sincere praise, Zenoda — still holding his blade against Nirli's throat — could only feel a mild sense of confusion. "So this entire insane interrogation was just a loyalty test? Humans and their paranoia really are exhausting," he thought.

With a relieved exhale, Zenoda withdrew his blade from Saint Nirli's throat, then sheathed the silver-white sword back into its ebony scabbard with a satisfying click.

King Ronan nodded with satisfaction. "Very well. Since I am now genuinely pleased and at ease with your loyalty, you, Zenoda, may go and join your companions in the Dining Hall right away. Fill your stomach. The rest of us still have a brief council to hold regarding our next steps in facing the Purple Snake threat you've uncovered."

Zenoda bowed his head, offering the same knightly salute as before. "I humbly take my leave, Your Majesty."

After Zenoda turned and opened the enormous doors of the Throne Room, he was immediately greeted by a palace maid who had been waiting for him, who then escorted him toward the delicious aroma of the dining hall.

Once the great doors closed, and only the four of them remained in the room, the atmosphere turned serious once again.

Queen Enia turned to Saint Nirli, who was still rubbing her neck, cold sweat lingering. "Nirli, what is your assessment of him?"

Nirli took a long breath, steadying her racing heart. "In my judgment, he is extraordinarily gifted — far beyond anyone in his entire generation, Your Majesty. He shattered my golden binding chain using pure physical force alone... and that speed he displayed just now, I would swear on my life that he hadn't even employed a single boost of magical energy."

Nirli looked at King Ronan. "There is something else, Your Majesty. His sword was highly unusual. I caught a glimpse of an emblem on it — a wing motif. Very similar to the God Wings party's guild crest, yet noticeably different. God Wings carries only a single-sided wing emblem, whereas his sword bore an engraving of two wings, rendered in two distinct colors — diamond blue and silver."

Hearing the description of that emblem, King Ronan's expression turned grave. He returned to his throne and sat down.

"Hmmmm... I have seen a description of that emblem before, in the kingdom's ancient texts," King Ronan murmured, stroking his thin beard. "It is highly likely that the sword is no ordinary artifact. If my guess is correct, Zenoda is a 'Chosen One' — a Champion — blessed directly by our Creator Goddess herself."

"A Chosen One?" Elara murmured, her eyes widening in shock.

"Yes," King Ronan nodded. "According to church rumor and legend, those chosen by the Goddess possess two primary characteristics. First, their mana is exceptionally pure, incapable of being corrupted by any form of darkness. Second, they bear a special mark — a Stigma — that serves as the signature of the Goddess's blessing. For example..."

King Ronan pulled back the silk sleeve of his left arm slightly. There, on his wrist, just above the pulse, was a tiny but beautifully rendered natural magical tattoo: an engraving of two feathers in distinct colors — deep blue and silver.

"Father has one too?!" Elara exclaimed, shocked, since the King had never shown her this mark before.

Queen Enia looked at her husband with amazement. "So you believe... this young man named Zenoda is one chosen by the Goddess, just as you are?"

"It's entirely possible," King Ronan answered quietly, pulling his sleeve back down. "I cannot confirm it with complete certainty. The mark could be present somewhere on his body, or it might manifest within his heirloom sword instead. But what I am certain of, for now, is one thing... he is not an evil person. He is a shield sent from the heavens to protect our daughter."

On the other side of the room, Elara lowered her head. Her thoughts churned in turmoil. The fact that this young man she had once dismissed at the Academy turned out to possess strength comparable to a monster, the wisdom of a king, and possibly even the status of a Sacred Envoy of the Goddess — made her heart pound in a way she couldn't quite settle.

(Zenoda...) Elara thought, gripping the fabric of her gown. (Who are you, really? And how deep does the mystery go, hiding behind that calm smile of yours?)