The Kingdom of Aurelion stood untouched by chaos. High golden walls stretched into the horizon like an unbreakable shield, towers rising into the sky, their tips catching the morning sun and shining like beacons of power and order.
Within those walls… lived a prince.
Prince Arion stood alone on the highest balcony of the royal palace. The wind stirred his silver hair as his sharp eyes scanned the peaceful lands beyond the walls. Too peaceful. Too quiet.
"…It's changing," he murmured.
Alone in the quiet, Arion allowed his mind to wander. He imagined himself far from the golden walls, deep in a dense forest. If I were out there… hunting for game, he thought. Tracking a stag through towering trees, bow in hand, sunlight filtering through the leaves… free.
He pictured the forest floor dappled with light, streams winding between moss-covered rocks, birds leaping from branch to branch, the distant call of a wolf echoing across the valley. He could almost hear the rustle of leaves underfoot, smell the sweet tang of wild berries, feel the thrill of moving unseen through the shadows.
No crown pressing on my shoulders. No kingdom depending on every decision I make. Just the wind, the trees… and me.
The daydream made him smile softly. Even in imagination, he felt alive, untethered, as though he could be both prince and hunter at once.
The large doors behind him opened. A royal guard stepped forward and bowed.
"Your Highness, the council awaits."
Arion didn't turn.
"Let them wait."
The guard hesitated. "…Yes, Your Highness."
Inside the training courtyard, the sound of clashing metal echoed loudly. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Arion moved with precision. Every strike controlled. Every step calculated. His opponent—a seasoned royal knight—struggled to keep up.
"You're distracted, Your Highness," the knight said, blocking another strike.
Arion didn't respond. Instead—he vanished.
The knight's eyes widened. Arion reappeared behind him, blade at his neck. Silence.
"…You're improving," the knight admitted.
Arion lowered his weapon. "…Not enough."
Even as he trained, Arion's mind drifted back to the forest—the streams, the shadows, the thrill of moving alone. It reminded him why he trained so rigorously—not just for the crown, but for the chance to protect a world he wished he could sometimes explore freely.
Later that evening, Arion walked alone through the palace halls, past guards, past servants, until he reached a massive stone door. Ancient. Covered in inscriptions.
He placed his hand on it. It opened slowly. Inside, light. Golden, radiating from the center. There, embedded in a pedestal of stone, was the sword: Regalis Dominus. The King Blade.
Arion stepped closer. "…So it's true."
The air grew heavier. The sword pulsed faintly, as if aware of him.
"You shouldn't be here alone."
Arion turned. Standing at the entrance… was the King. His father.
Arion bowed slightly. "…Father."
The King stepped forward, gaze fixed on the blade.
"You feel it, don't you?"
Arion nodded. "Yes."
"It's calling me."
"That blade has only awakened in times of great danger," the King said. "And when it does… it chooses its wielder."
"…And if it doesn't choose me?"
"Then the kingdom falls."
Arion looked at the sword. "What makes someone worthy?"
"Not strength. Not skill. Not even blood," the King said.
Arion frowned. "Then what?"
"Heart," the King replied, placing a hand on his shoulder.
The chamber dimmed. Golden light flickered. "…It's begun."
Moments later, the royal council gathered urgently.
"The Abyss is spreading," one elder said. "Reports of destroyed villages are increasing. Creatures appearing where they shouldn't."
Arion stepped forward. "…It's connected. To the blades."
Silence fell. "I'm leaving the kingdom," he said.
The council erupted in protest. "That's too dangerous! You are the heir! You cannot risk—"
"Enough," the King silenced them. "…Then go."
Back in the chamber, Arion stood before Regalis Dominus.
"By the stars that watch over this kingdom," he whispered, raising the blade, "I pledge this sword. Not for greed, not for vengeance, not for the shadowed ways of those who seek only power. I swear to wield it for justice, for the protection of the innocent, for the good of all who call this land home."
The ground shook. Light exploded. From it, a being made of pure golden energy emerged: the Guardian of the King Blade.
"You seek to wield the King Blade," it said.
"I do," Arion replied.
"Then prove your worth."
Blades clashed, speed against speed, skill against instinct. The Guardian blocked every strike. Arion was pushed back. His sword knocked from his hand. He fell to one knee.
"Why do you seek this power?" the Guardian asked.
"…To protect my kingdom," Arion answered.
"Not enough."
"…To protect everyone," he added, voice firmer.
Silence. The light shifted. The Guardian lowered its blade. "…You understand."
The golden light faded. The sword pulsed.
"I am Regalis Dominus…"
"And you… are worthy."
Arion gripped the blade. A surge of golden energy exploded through him. Outside the palace, the sky shifted. The air changed.
Far away—Kai stopped walking. "…Do you feel that?"
Lira nodded. "Yes."
Umbra's eyes narrowed. "…Another blade has awakened."