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The grand war chamber of the Gilded Empire was as imposing as the warriors who occupied it. Tall golden pillars lined the circular room, torches flickering with enchanted flames that bathed the chamber in a warm, steady glow. A massive table of polished obsidian sat at the center, the sigil of the empire engraved at its core.
The Ten Heavenly Warlords stood in attendance, their expressions ranging from calm indifference to deep contemplation. At the head of the table sat King Rhaegor Lysandor, his presence commanding yet composed. He exuded the authority of a ruler who had seen countless battles, and yet, tonight, his face was shadowed by something rarely seen—uncertainty.
As the doors creaked open, Kai’Zen, The Indomitable Spear, stepped into the room. His dark red cape trailed behind him, his every step precise, calculated. His sharp eyes scanned the chamber before he took his place at the table, standing before his fellow warlords.
A heavy silence filled the room before the King spoke, his voice carrying the weight of the empire.
“Let us begin.”
All eyes turned toward him as he rested his forearms on the table. His fingers tapped against the wood, his expression unreadable. “Tonight, we discuss the future of our world… and the heroes the gods have chosen to fight for it.”
At this, the warlords exchanged glances, some unreadable, others doubtful.
“You may all speak freely,” the King continued. “I want to know exactly what you think—about the prophecy, about the boy, about everything. Leave nothing unsaid.”
A beat of silence. Then—
Rivis, The Blazing Storm let out a loud scoff, arms crossed over his chest. “You want the honest truth, Your Majesty? The kid’s got enthusiasm, I’ll give him that, but he’s young. Too young.” His crimson eyes flickered with irritation. “He jokes, he grins, he acts like this is all some grand adventure. But war—war is not an adventure.”
Mira, The Frost Valkyrie, nodded slightly, her icy expression unchanging. “I agree. He lacks discipline. I saw it the moment he stepped into the throne room. If he is to wield power, he must first understand the weight of it. Right now, he does not.”
Orwin, The Fangs of War, who had been sitting back, tilting his chair lazily, finally leaned forward, his wolfish smirk fading slightly. “I won’t lie, I had my doubts too. But let’s not forget—he is untrained. We have seen him for only a day. Maybe we should wait before writing him off completely.”
“Tch.” Veska, The Phantom Dancer, exhaled sharply, adjusting her mask. “You are all too soft. The battlefield does not wait for a boy to grow into a man.”
The conversation was turning into a storm of mixed opinions, but Kai’Zen remained silent, his arms crossed as he listened. He let them voice their concerns before finally speaking.
“He is weak,” Kai’Zen said flatly. “He is reckless. He is undisciplined. And worst of all—” his gaze darkened, “—he does not fear what is to come.”
That drew the attention of all present.
Seraphis, The Silver Tempest, arched a brow. “Fear? You think fear would serve him better?”
Kai’Zen exhaled sharply. “A warrior who does not respect the weight of war is a warrior who will fall before he can become something great. Fear is not weakness—it is a teacher. A guide. And right now, that boy—” he looked directly at the King, “—fears nothing.”
A silence fell over the chamber.
Finally, Darius, The Iron Juggernaut, who had been silent until now, spoke in his deep, gravelly voice. “But… he survives.”
Kai’Zen’s brow twitched slightly. “What?”
Darius turned his head slightly toward him. “Despite his recklessness… despite his youth… he survives.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
King Rhaegor finally leaned back, his fingers lacing together as he studied each of them. “It is clear that doubt lingers in many of you.” He exhaled slowly, his gaze lowering. “And I must admit… I, too, have questioned whether the gods have made the right choice.”
The warlords sat straighter at this confession.
Rhaegor’s expression was grim. “A hero should be someone we can place our faith in. And yet, I look at this boy and wonder…” he closed his eyes briefly before reopening them. “…can he truly bear the weight of this world?”
Silence.
Then, his expression hardened. “However.” His voice grew stronger. “The gods do not make mistakes. And while he is young, and while he is flawed, we will not turn our backs on him. He was chosen. And we will make sure he rises to meet the expectations placed upon him.”
The warlords absorbed his words, some nodding in silent understanding, others remaining unreadable.
Then, the King shifted slightly in his seat. “And now… there is something else you all must know.”
The air in the chamber seemed to still.
Rhaegor’s gaze sharpened, his voice quiet yet carrying immense weight.
“The other kingdoms have received their heroes as well.”
Some eyes widened slightly. Others tensed.
“And more importantly,” the King continued, “the day of reckoning is upon us.”
A cold chill swept through the room.
“In five years’ time,” Rhaegor said gravely, “The Crimson King and his Emperor will return—stronger than ever.”
A deep silence followed.
Then—
Kai’Zen closed his eyes briefly before reopening them, a new resolve settling in his gaze.
“Then we have much work to do.”
