They entered the castle doors, and the silence swallowed them whole. The hallways stretched out like the ribcage of some ancient beast, each wall lined with war stories, captured in dark, brooding paintings. None of them said anything. Red-hair by respect, Green-hair by fear of doing something wrong and Niles, who was too busy ogling the swaying figure of Xemera as she glided confidently ahead. Red-hair noticed but said nothing to avoid any risk to get punched himself. Green-hair, meanwhile, was mesmerized by the ancient art around them, his eyes darting to every corner like he was searching for some long-lost clue.
At the end of the hallway, a gate loomed—monstrous and foreboding. A mural was painted across it: a dragon, roaring flames, facing off against a swordsman, the battle frozen in time. Gems glittered in the dragon’s eyes, catching the light and giving the beast a life of its own. Two guards, their helmets shaped with different roaring beasts, heaved the doors open, and a slow groan echoed through the hall as if the very castle itself resented their presence.
Green-hair, gasped audibly as they entered the throne room. It was colossal, like a cathedral built to house gods, the ceiling so high it seemed to brush the heavens. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting light from massive stained-glass windows that depicted legends of battles long gone. And in the center, a throne, not carved from cold stone but constructed from crowns. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of crowns, melted and fused together into a grotesque monument to power.
And on top of that throne sat a man. No—something more. He was enormous, a towering figure of muscle and raw authority, his scarlet eyes burning like coals in a fire that refused to go out. His black hair fell around his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a lion watching over its pride. The three were pushed forward. Red-hair and Green-hair immediately dropped to one knee, submitting to the imposing figure before them. But not Niles. No, Niles was still fixated on the princess, his eyes tracing the curve of her back like he had a death wish.
"Get down," Red-hair hissed through gritted teeth, his voice sharp as broken glass.
Niles, smart enough to know when he was about to get punched again, reluctantly followed suit. As he knelt, his gaze locked with the king’s. The moment their eyes met, it was like a cold wind swept through his soul. He felt something crawl beneath his skin, something ancient and merciless. That gaze didn’t just look at him—it looked through him. He shuddered, his heart thudding like it wanted out of his chest.
The king lifted a hand, a simple gesture that summoned an assistant carrying a pillow, on which rested a crystal. The assistant approached, presenting the object like it was some holy relic.
“Please place your hands on the crystal,” the assistant said, voice smooth and rehearsed.
Green-hair, always the curious one, squinted at the crystal before asking, “What’s it going to do?”
The assistant gave a polished smile and explained that the crystal would reveal their skills and stats, as well as let them check their abilities anytime by simply saying “status open.” It sounded like something out of a video game. Niles half-expected someone to hand him a controller.
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With a shrug, green-hair placed his hand on the crystal. A soft glow emerged, and his status appeared in the air, projected for everyone to see:
Name: Gustavus
Skill: Healing-ish
Level: 1
Strength: 1
Stamina: 1
Speed: 1
Magic: 1
Mana: 1
Murmurs rippled through the room. “Healing? That could be useful,” someone muttered optimistically. But the assistant, squinting, read the details again.
“Healing-ish? What does ‘-ish’ mean?” he asked, the smile faltering.
Niles chimed in. “It means ‘kinda like.’ So, kinda like healing.”
The assistant nodded, chuckling nervously. “Let’s hope it’s healing in an ultimate form, then!” he said. But when Gustavus tapped for more details, the room fell silent as the text read: Easing inflicted pain—not to be confused with regular healing.
The cheerfulness evaporated, the hope sucked out of the room like air from a coffin.
The assistant cleared his throat, forcing a grin. “Let’s move on,” he said, his voice brittle as glass. He turned to Niles. “Please, your turn.”
Niles touched the crystal. It flared up again, revealing his stats:
Name: Niles
Skill: Barrier-ish
Level: 1
Strength: 1
Stamina: 1
Speed: 1
Magic: 1
Mana: 1
The murmurs resumed. “A barrier could come in handy,” someone noted, hope creeping back into the room. But then Niles tapped for more details, and the assistant read aloud: Kinda like a barrier, but doesn’t work as a barrier. Sorry.
The silence that followed was suffocating. “What kind of skill has ‘sorry’ in it?” a voice exclaimed.
Niles, disappointed in his own stats: “Man, my stats are worthless. How do I increase them?”
The assistant, in his forced cheerfulness, explained the leveling system, while Niles muttered something about how much the system sucked. But all of it was just noise, a background hum to the growing tension in the room.
Then came Red-hair’s turn. He approached the crystal, his face unreadable. The room held its breath as his stats appeared:
Name: Roy
Skill: Bombardment
Level: 1
Strength: 1
Stamina: 1
Speed: 1
Magic: 1
Mana: 1
For the first time, there was no ‘-ish’ attached. Roy pressed for more details, and the assistant read with relief: Summon a cannon in the sky that blast projectiles.
Finally, the room exhaled, a murmur of excitement spreading like wildfire.
The assistant beamed. “Thank you for showing your skills. Now, we would like to see them in action. Follow me to the training grounds.”
But something in the room had shifted. The king, silent until now, crushed a glass in his hand. The shards hit the floor with a sound that echoed through the chamber like a death knell. Niles felt the weight of those scarlet eyes again, and this time, the gaze was darker, more sinister. But they were looking at someone else “The goddess shall remain here” the king proclaimed.
The assistant, busy in leading the trio and the rest of the people from the room away, they walked towards the door that would lead them outside to the training facility but Niles hesitated, his feet dragging as a cold sweat broke out across his skin. The others left, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Sir Niles, you coming?” the assistant called from outside.
“I’ll catch up,” Niles muttered, turning back toward the throne. His legs felt like lead, but he forced them to move, step by agonizing step. The king’s gaze followed him, a predator watching its prey.
“Hello, my name is Niles!” he blurted out, his voice cracking in the cavernous silence. The words hung in the air like a bad joke, and the silence that followed was suffocating. It was as if the room itself had drawn a collective breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.
And then, finally, the king spoke. His voice was low, rumbling, and filled with the kind of menace that crawls under your skin and stays there.
“What do you want?” the king asked, his scarlet eyes locked onto Niles.