Michael walked. He did not run, though he could traverse the infinite stretches of the Vastyrion Realm in mere seconds if he chose. His brown clothes were still messy, but after cleaning them in the river earlier, they no longer carried a bad smell. The air was warm and gentle as he moved across flat sands dotted with trees.
Ahead, he noticed a large gate. Instinctively, he sensed what lay beyond. It was a nation, the Kingdom of Aldervain.
He passed through the gate. Two knight guards stopped him, their pikes raised in surprise at his height. "Who are you?" one asked.
Michael's voice was calm. "I am no enemy. The enemy is gone. The demon threat has ended." The guards scrutinized him carefully, particularly the large glowing sword on his back, but eventually lowered their weapons. They allowed him to pass.
Inside Aldervain, the city was alive. Large streets were lined with clean houses, farms, and shops. Guards patrolled diligently while knights and cavalry rode through the city. Nobles traveled in horse-drawn wagons. Children played by rivers and bridges, their laughter carrying through the streets. Vendors called out their wares.
The streets were far from perfect, but they were orderly, alive with simple prosperity.
People noticed Michael immediately. Women's eyes lingered, curious and cautious. Men, by contrast, seemed insecure, intimidated by his height and presence. Michael did not mind their attention. He felt the city's life around him but had no desire for conflict. His concern was only for one enemy, and everyone else was irrelevant.
Even the children were surprised, whispering to each other. Students from the academy, roughly his age, paused in shock. "There's no way," one boy muttered. "How is he that tall? His arms… they're insane."
Girls exchanged excited glances, whispering among themselves. Michael paid none of it heed, and yet he was not rude. He simply moved through the streets, observing the kingdom as it bustled with life. Castles rose in the distance, towers reaching above simple houses. Bridges crossed clear rivers. Smoke rose gently from chimneys. The city thrived quietly, clean, and orderly.
Meanwhile, high above, King Baldrick had noticed him. Perched atop one of the castle's towers, his cloak flowing and a mask covering his face, Baldrick watched Michael silently. He realized immediately who this was. That boy, walking among the citizens, was the 10th Sentinel.
Baldrick allowed a small smile to cross his face. He thought of the countless threats that might rise again. This boy, calm and powerful, was hope. The future of Vastyrion Realm rested in hands far younger than any soldier or general could be.
Michael sensed it, the attention of someone observing him. Many watched, but there was one whose presence felt different. When he looked toward the rooftops, he caught sight of a figure moving in shadow. The figure seemed to vanish and reappear with unnatural swiftness.
Baldrick moved at an irrelevant speed, careful not to reveal himself, teleporting to a rooftop behind his palace.
When he looked behind him, he saw Michael again. The boy was the same height, standing calmly, observing the city. Baldrick froze in surprise. "You… you! The 10th Sentinel!"
Michael's expression remained calm, neither angry nor surprised. "Why do you seem to be following me?" he asked simply.
Baldrick's voice carried urgency and awe. "It is because I sensed a strong energy. I had to know who it was, so I came prepared. I did not expect… it is you. You are the 10th Sentinel. What is your name?"
Michael's response was measured, straightforward. "Michael."
The streets of Aldervain continued their quiet bustle below, unaware of the two powerful figures now standing above, sentinel and king, the future of the realm quietly shifting around them.