On a remote island, Michelangelo reclined lazily, casually gnawing on a gold bar as though it were a piece of fruit. Before him, three knights struggled to lift fallen trees, their faces strained with effort.
“These knights are weak,” Michelangelo muttered, bits of gold glinting between his teeth. “But I can whip them into shape. My strongest student? Melanthius Shadowbane.” He paused, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s been years since I last saw him, so I can’t gauge his current strength. But inmate zero?” A sinister chuckle escaped his lips. “He’s about where I was back in Caldara.”
Back in Slesan, Mel’s fist collided with King August and King Mateo, driving them both into the dirt. Their cheeks bore the imprint of his knuckles, a grim testament to his strength.
“Now,” Mel said coldly, towering over them. “I want answers.”
Mateo, still dazed, scrambled to his feet and blew into a large horn. The piercing sound echoed across the battlefield, forcing Mel and Bimoth to cover their ears. As the horn’s wail subsided, they saw seven boats approaching the shore, each teeming with knights whose ominous auras seemed to darken the sky.
“You’re both dead now,” Mateo sneered, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.
Mel’s eyes widened at the sight. “We’ve got to go!” he shouted, sprinting toward Bimoth.
In an instant, a surge of black lightning engulfed them, and they disappeared from the battlefield.
They reappeared in Mel’s room, the abrupt teleportation leaving Bimoth with a surge of adrenaline. “WHOA! THAT WAS AMAZING!” Bimoth bellowed, practically bouncing off the walls. “You took down those kings like it was nothing!” He clapped his hands and laughed, eyes alight with excitement. “And that teleportation?! How did you do that?”
Mel, however, was far from jubilant. He collapsed to the floor, his breath ragged, his body drenched in sweat. Bimoth’s grin faltered as he noticed the faint, jagged electrical marks tracing Mel’s skin.
“Hey, you don’t look so hot,” Bimoth said, kneeling beside him.
Mel coughed, struggling to catch his breath. Slowly, he removed his fox mask and costume, revealing himself in a simple pair of blue shorts and a white tank top. His hands trembled as he conjured a mist of cool air to soothe the burns scarring his body.
“Whenever I use my black lightning magic, it takes a toll on me,” Mel said between shallow breaths. “Teleportation is especially brutal—it feels like it’s ripping me apart inside.”
Bimoth watched, his initial excitement giving way to concern. “You’re really pushing yourself, aren’t you?”
Mel nodded faintly, leaning back against the wall, his breathing steadying as he recovered. “I’ll be okay,” he panted before pushing himself upright with a small grunt. Glancing at the clock on the wall, his eyes widened. “Shoot, it’s almost midnight—I have to pick them up.”
He turned toward Bimoth, pointing down the hall. “There’s a shower at the end of the dorm hallway. You can sleep on the floor, but listen carefully—don’t let anyone see you. Anyone affiliated with Dorian’s kingdom is considered treasonous around here.” Mel grabbed a sleek button from his desk.
Bimoth, still seated on the floor, tilted his head in acknowledgment. Despite sitting, his massive frame nearly matched Mel’s height. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and steady, his stark white pupils following Mel as he moved toward the door.
Mel paused for a moment, his hand hovering near the handle. “Seriously, keep a low profile,” he emphasized before stepping out into the night.
The next morning, at Shenelle’s house, chaos broke out. She had Mel in a chokehold, her voice filled with frustration. “YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN! I SAID NO MORE DISMANTLING KINGDOMS! PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT FOX BEARRINGTON EVERYWHERE!”
Mel clawed at her arm, his face turning red. “I didn’t dismantle them!” he protested, gasping as she finally released him. He stumbled back, rubbing his neck. “I just helped Bimoth escape Slesan, that’s all!”
Shenelle glared at him, her eyes sharp. “You’re walking a fine line, Mel. You keep this up, and you’re going to end up like your bastard father—and if that happens, it’ll be my job to kill you.”
Before Mel could respond, Bimoth wandered into the room, casually eating cereal from a bowl he’d found in Shenelle’s kitchen. He was wearing a sweater Mel had woven from enchanted webbing, proudly displaying the words “I Love Atlantis” stitched across the front. “If I may,” Bimoth chimed in between bites, “Mel actually helped me.”
Shenelle shot him a look but sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, he does that,” she muttered, her tone softening slightly. Turning back to Mel, she pointed a finger at him. “Listen, slow your roll. You’re gonna end up in handcuffs—or worse.”
Mel stared at the floor, Shenelle’s words weighing heavily on him. He nodded silently, the weight of his choices pressing down like an unrelenting tide.
In Atlantis, Bimoth narrowed his eyes at the shimmering underwater kingdom stretched out before him. “It’s pretty small,” he muttered, his deep voice resonating through the currents. He placed a hand on his throat, his expression shifting to mild surprise. “That flower actually works,” he remarked, his voice steady despite being submerged.
Mel nodded beside him, arms crossed. “Yep, just make sure to eat one every day, and you’ll be fine.” He gestured toward the kingdom below. “And yeah, it’s small because it wasn’t originally a kingdom—just a city in the middle of the sea. Over time, they expanded.”
Bimoth shrugged, letting the explanation roll over him. “So, I’m officially an Atlantean knight now?”
Mel gave him a grin. “Yep, you’re the Atlantean knight.”
Bimoth paused mid-step, his brow furrowing. “Wait. Did you just say the Atlantean knight? Singular? Where’s your gate?”
Mel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his nervous laughter bubbling up. “Uh, about that—”
Moments later, the two stood before Goda, a towering Atlantean general, flanked by an underwhelming force of fifty knights.
“This... this is your gate?” Bimoth asked, his incredulous tone cutting through the water as his gaze swept over the scene. Among the knights, fish people trained rigorously, lifting coral weights and sparring clumsily with crude tridents.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Goda gave a toothy grin, clearly unfazed by Bimoth’s tone. “Welcome to the Atlantean Guard! Finest warriors under the sea!”
Bimoth pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Mel… we need to talk about your definition of a ‘gate.’”
“Look, they might not be the best,” Mel admitted, shooting Bimoth a sheepish smile, “but it’s what I’ve got—plus, there’s the Steel Pact.” He reached out and gave Goda’s scaly head an affectionate rub, earning a proud, toothy grin from the Atlantean general.
“And if things really go south…” Mel added with a sly smirk, his tone shifting to something darker, “I’ll call in the Kraken.”
“Forget it, that’s all I’ve got for now… thanks,” he muttered, glancing down at Mel.
Mel flashed a reassuring smile. “No problem at all.”
Meanwhile, in Bloodthorn, Ashley, still masked, approached Dorian, who lounged on his throne. She leaned in to whisper something, and Dorian’s expression darkened. With a roar, he hurled a goblet against the wall, the metallic clang reverberating through the hall.
“Bimoth, you bastard! You just had to provoke them?!” he snarled, rising to his feet, his cape billowing behind him as he turned to his subordinates. “Gather the troops! We’re going to the Seven Deadly Kingdoms.”
A voice rang out from the doorway, calm yet commanding. “You want to take on the Seven Deadly Kingdoms?”
Dorian turned sharply, his eyes widening at the sight of Akoni. “Astroman of Astronomer Royal? What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off studying the stars or something?”
Akoni stepped inside with a sigh, his demeanor unfazed. “No, I’m Akoni of the Pride Kingdom,” he corrected, his gaze steady.
Dorian instinctively stepped back, his usual composure shaken, and Ashley immediately moved to shield him. Akoni stopped just short of her, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Relax. I’m not here to fight. I just want to talk,” he said evenly.
Ashley didn’t budge, her protective stance unwavering. Akoni’s gaze softened as he continued. “If you go after the Seven Deadly Kingdoms, you’ll end up dead. Cold-blooded murder. That’s all it’ll be.”
Dorian scoffed but sat back on his throne, frustration evident in the way his fingers tapped the armrest. “You think I don’t know that? We don’t even know who all the kings are. The only thing I’ve managed to piece together is how they make their money.”
Akoni reached out and adjusted a strand of Ashley’s hair absently, earning a glare from her. “Not even I know all the Pride kings,” Akoni admitted, “but the kingdoms are clearly at war with each other. And there’s one name that keeps coming up, stirring the pot for all of them—Althara Shadowbane.”
Dorian leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Althara… Shadowbane? Is she—”
“Related to Merlin or Melanthius?” Akoni finished, shaking his head. “We don’t know. That’s exactly why no one’s dared to make a move on Atlantis. Too many unanswered questions.”
Dorian slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Akoni picked up a nearby goblet and took a measured sip before answering. “We need to expand the Pride Kingdom’s influence. But our king’s pride won’t let him ask for help. Meanwhile, Lust’s territories are shrinking, thanks to someone named Fox Bearrington. Nobody knows where he came from, but he’s already taken down King Nathan’s kingdom and helped Bimoth escape from Kings August and Mateo.”
Dorian frowned, piecing it together. “It can’t be Melanthius. He and Bimoth hate each other. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Akoni’s lips twitched in a faint, knowing smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. But in this game of kingdoms, trust your eyes less, and your instincts more.”
Akoni pivoted smoothly on his heel, casually grabbing a bottle of champagne from a nearby table as he strode out of the room.
Ashley’s fists clenched as she watched him leave, her frustration bubbling over. “That bastard just waltzed in here and gave us orders like he’s the king! That wasn’t a suggestion—it was a warning. Either we join them, or we get steamrolled in their war with some girl named Althara Shadowbane!” She growled, dragging her nails across her mask in frustration. “I say we go to Atlantis ourselves and wipe out the last real Shadowbane before they have the chance to mess with us!”
Dorian remained seated, his gaze fixed on the floor as he raised a hand to silence her. “Calm… down,” he said slowly, his voice measured but firm.
Ashley turned to him, her breaths heavy, as though she was trying to hold back an explosion. Dorian looked up, his expression calm but cold. “You really want to go to war with the son of an Overlord? You think Melanthius Shadowbane isn’t stronger than anyone in Aurora, except maybe Bimoth? And let’s not forget—we lost Bimoth.”
His words hung heavy in the air, and Ashley let out a sharp sigh, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. “If we still had him,” Dorian continued, “then maybe, just maybe, we could think about taking Atlantis. But as things stand? Going after Melanthius is suicide. Even you know that.”
Ashley crossed her arms, the fight draining from her stance. “Fine,” she muttered, though the fire in her eyes hadn’t fully dimmed. “But what happens when Akoni comes back and expects us to play along?”
Dorian leaned back in his throne, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, we wait.”
In the grand hall of Auroria Dominion’s castle, Shenelle and King Percival Aldara sat across from each other, the soft rustle of cards filling the air as they played their game. Shenelle deftly dealt the cards, her sharp eyes scanning the table. “I’ve got a question,” she said, picking a card and discarding another with precision.
Percival, seated with a relaxed posture, glanced up. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, adjusting his hand of cards.
Shenelle leaned back in her chair, her tone measured yet firm. “We should increase security across all of Aurora,” she stated, watching for his reaction.
Percival straightened slightly, his brow furrowing. “Auroria Dominion already has the most advanced security of any kingdom under Auroria. Why should we spread resources to others?” he questioned, his voice carrying an edge of skepticism as he played his next card.
“That’s exactly the problem,” Shenelle countered, her voice calm but resolute. “You hoard Auroria Dominion’s technology instead of sharing it with the other kingdoms. It’s not just about protecting this castle—it’s about protecting all of Aurora.”
Percival shook his head dismissively. “We’re not here to ensure other kingdoms are satisfied with our generosity,” he said, his tone firm.
Shenelle’s gaze hardened. “You are here to ensure my children are safe. Or have you forgotten? Two kingdoms just invaded Slesan. If they had access to the technology we have here, that could’ve been prevented,” she said pointedly.
Percival sighed, setting his cards down. “What happened in Slesan is unfortunate, but that’s on Bimoth. He was part of Auroria Dominion once—he should’ve stayed where he was safe,” he replied dismissively.
Her tone grew sharper. “And what about King Dorian? He’s just a kid, thrust into ruling and now forced to face potential invasions because he doesn’t have the security you refuse to share?”
Percival’s eyes darkened as he abruptly stood. “Bringing up Dorian’s name in this castle is treason, Shenelle. You’re walking a fine line,” he said coldly, his voice echoing through the hall.
Shenelle stood as well, towering over him with an air of authority that seemed to silence the room. “And you,” she began, her voice low but biting, “keep speaking to me as if I didn’t rebuild this kingdom from rubble. As if I don’t know the weaknesses you so desperately try to hide.”
Percival flinched ever so slightly, his confident façade faltering for a moment. The tension hung thick between them before they both returned to their seats, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on them as the card game continued in silence.
"I'm not spreading my technology," he declared, his tone unwavering.
"Then I'm done helping the school," she shot back, her voice just as resolute.