The aftermath of the tournament was not the celebration Kaelen had hoped for. Instead of cheers, there was a heavy, suffocating tension that hung over the Aurelius Academy like a storm cloud. Prince Julian had been carried away in a coma, his mana core fractured and his reputation in tatters. But the real scandal wasn't the defeat—it was the violet stain of the Void Cult that Kaelen had exposed.
Two days after the duel, Kaelen stood before the massive iron doors of the Royal Palace. He wasn't there as a hero; he was there because of a 'Royal Summons'—which was essentially an arrest warrant wrapped in gold leaf.
The Golden Cage
"Leave your weapon here, commoner," the captain of the Royal Guard barked, gesturing to the 'Ghost-Biter' sword at Kaelen's waist.
Kaelen looked the captain in the eye. The man flinched. Even without drawing his blade, Kaelen's presence felt like a sharpened edge against the captain's throat. "This sword and I go together," Kaelen said, his voice flat. "If the King wants to see me, he sees the sword too."
Before the guard could argue, a soft voice echoed from the hallway. "Let him in, Captain. My father is not in a patient mood."
Princess Elara stood there, looking regal but tired. Her eyes met Kaelen's, and for a split second, the coldness in his gaze softened. She stepped closer, whispering as she passed him, "Be careful, Kaelen. My father doesn't like things he can't control. Especially things as powerful as you."
The Throne Room
The Throne Room of Astrum was a monument to power. High ceilings, gold-leafed pillars, and the 'Sun-Throne' made of solid white marble. King Valerius III sat upon it, his crown glittering, but his face was a mask of cold fury.
Kaelen walked to the center of the hall. He didn't kneel. The nobles lined along the walls gasped. To not kneel before the King was an act of treason.
"Kaelen Vance," the King's voice boomed, echoing off the marble. "You have crippled my nephew, destroyed a priceless testing stone, and caused a riot in my capital. And now, you stand before me and refuse to show respect?"
"Respect is earned on the battlefield, Your Majesty," Kaelen replied, his voice calm and steady. "I have shown you the truth. Your palace is infested with the Void Cult. Julian was just a symptom. The disease is deeper."
The King narrowed his eyes. "You speak of the Cult as if you know them. A boy of seventeen should know nothing of such horrors. Tell me, where does this 'Silver Mana' come from? My scholars say it is not of this world."
It's not from this time, Kaelen thought. But aloud, he said, "It is the power of the First King. I found his hidden chamber. I am simply a student of history, Your Majesty."
A murmur went through the nobles. The 'First King' was a legend, almost a myth. To claim his power was a bold move.
"Bold words," the King said, leaning forward. "But words are cheap. You have caused a diplomatic disaster. The House of von Astrum demands your head for what you did to Julian. However... my daughter seems to think you are the savior of this kingdom."
Elara stepped forward, her voice clear. "Father, he exposed a traitor! Julian was using forbidden magic!"
"Silence, Elara!" the King snapped. He turned back to Kaelen. "I will give you a choice, boy. You can go to the dungeons for treason... or you can take a mission that no one else dares to accept."
Kaelen's eyes sharpened. This was it. The King's Gambit. "What mission?"
"To the North," the King said, a cruel smile touching his lips. "The Iron-Hold Fortress has gone silent. It sits on the edge of the Frozen Wastes, guarding the ancient seal of the Frost-Giants. I want you to go there, find out why the messages have stopped, and fix the problem. If you succeed, your 'crimes' are forgiven. If you fail... the cold will claim you, and the problem of Kaelen Vance will be solved."
The Farewell
Kaelen knew it was a suicide mission. Iron-Hold was a death trap, especially for someone who had just exhausted their mana core. But he also knew that the first major demonic breach in his past life had happened exactly there, at Iron-Hold.
The King is sending me to die, but he's actually giving me the chance to stop the invasion before it starts, Kaelen realized.
As he walked out of the palace, Elara caught up to him in the courtyard. "You can't go! The North is cursed! No one has returned from Iron-Hold in three months!"
"I have to go, Elara," Kaelen said, turning to face her. "If that seal breaks, the Frozen Wastes will swallow Astrum before the Void Cult even makes their move."
"Then I'm coming with you," she said, her chin lifted in defiance.
"No," Kaelen said firmly. "The King needs you here. And I need someone I trust to watch the academy. Liora is in danger too. Protect her."
Elara looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. "Why do you always act like you're carrying the weight of the whole world on your shoulders?"
Kaelen reached out and gently tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear. "Because I've already seen what happens when I don't."
He pulled out a small, old map he had hidden in his cloak. "I'll be back, Elara. I promise. But when I return, I won't be just a student. I'll be an army."
The Road to the North
Kaelen left the capital at dawn the next day. He didn't take a carriage or an escort. He took a single horse and his iron sword.
As he reached the outskirts of the city, he felt a presence behind him. He didn't turn around. "You're late, Liora."
Liora stepped out from behind a merchant's stall, a heavy backpack on her shoulders and her staff in her hand. "You didn't think I'd let you go to the Frozen Wastes alone, did you? You'd probably forget to eat and starve to death before a monster even touched you."
Kaelen looked at his childhood friend and felt a rare warmth in his chest. "It's dangerous, Liora. More than you can imagine."
"Good," she smirked, though her hands were shaking. "I was getting bored of the academy anyway."
Together, the two of them began the long journey toward the mountains. Kaelen looked at the horizon, where the dark clouds were gathering. He could feel the cold wind calling to him.
But deep in the shadows of the forest they were passing, a pair of red eyes watched them. It wasn't a human, and it wasn't a demon. It was a Void-Seeker, an assassin sent by the Cult to ensure Kaelen never reached the North.
"The Sovereign is moving," the creature hissed into the wind. "Prepare the trap at the Black-Gorge."
Kaelen gripped the reins of his horse. He could feel the killing intent in the air. He unsheathed 'Ghost-Biter' just an inch, the silver light flickering against the snow.
"Let them come," he whispered. "I've died once already. I don't plan on making it a habit."
The journey to Iron-Hold had begun. The King thought he was sending a boy to his death. He didn't realize he was sending a wolf into a den of sheep.