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Nathan's POV
One Day Ago
The Imperial Castle loomed ahead of me, a monolith of polished white stone veined with gold, its towering spires stabbing at the morning sky as though they could pierce heaven itself. Wide banners of crimson and black snapped violently in the wind, each marked with the golden crest of the Empire—a dragon coiled around a sword. The scent of polished marble, incense, and faint smoke from braziers wafted through the air.
I hated it.
The place smelled like sanctimony and rot disguised with perfume.
At the gate, soldiers in full imperial armor lined the entrance like statues, their spears pointed upright, eyes sharp but nervous. My boots clicked against the cobblestone pathway as I approached, and I didn't bother to slow. My presence carried its own weight.
Every single one of them averted their gaze.
Good. They knew better.
Inside, the throne room was grand—too grand. The ceiling stretched into infinity, domes painted with celestial battles of gods and demons. The floor was a river of gleaming marble that reflected every step I made. But grandeur did not impress me; power did. And in this place, the only true power walked in now.
Me.
The three raiders were already seated. Paige, the infamous blue raider, tried to sit upright like her spine was a steel rod, all elegance and discipline. Beside her was Xavier, another blue raider, though still a child in my eyes—eyes too bright, posture too eager. Pathetic. Then there was the black-haired girl. I didn't know her name, didn't care. But I noted the way her gaze was steady, not submissive like the others. Interesting.
When I entered, all eyes turned toward me.
I didn't acknowledge them. I walked leisurely, deliberately slow, my every step echoing like a declaration of war. Without asking permission, I claimed the chair nearest to the king himself. The chair wasn't meant for me. It was meant to symbolize closeness, loyalty, reverence.
I sat anyway.
Leaning back, I crossed my legs and draped one arm arrogantly over the carved golden armrest. My lips curved in a lazy smirk.
The king's eyes flickered. Irritated? Amused? He was a man trained to mask weakness, but even masks crack under pressure.
"Late," Paige's voice broke the silence, sharp and accusing.
Finally, I turned my head toward her, very slowly, like a predator humoring prey. My lips parted into a mocking smile.
"Late?" I echoed. "No. I arrived precisely when I intended to. The world bends to my time, not the other way around."
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't retort. Wise.
The king began to speak, his voice rolling through the chamber. He spoke of history, of Goddess Mei, of the divine tomb that held her heart. He recited tales of glory, tragedy, and power waiting to be claimed.
I listened… casually. My chin rested against my knuckles, my gaze wandering the chamber. Paige leaned forward like every syllable was gold. Xavier sat stiff, eyes shining with naive awe. The black-haired girl, though, kept her face neutral, though her thoughts flickered behind her eyes.
The king's voice droned on, and boredom gnawed at me. Finally, I cut in, tone lazy, mocking:
"So let me guess… another fairy tale quest where hundreds have died? And you want us to be the next corpses decorating the wilderness?"
The room fell silent. Paige's eyes widened. Xavier shifted uncomfortably. Even the nameless black-haired girl blinked once.
The king's gaze locked onto me. Calm. Controlled. But I saw it—the faintest tremor in his jaw.
"You speak boldly," he said.
"I speak truth," I corrected, my lips curling. "The difference between me and the rest of your dogs is that I don't bark for bones."
Paige inhaled sharply. "You—!"
But the king raised his hand to silence her. His gaze remained on me, hard as iron.
The meeting dragged on, filled with commands and decrees. He spoke of the mission, of dangers, of expectations. The others nodded dutifully, obedient little pawns.
I? I lounged. I yawned once, exaggeratedly, just to make a point.
When the king finally dismissed us, all four raiders rose to bow. I didn't.
Why should I?
I remained seated, stretching my legs. Then, deliberately, I stood. Slowly. Arrogantly. And instead of a bow, I dipped into a mocking parody of one—too deep, too theatrical. When I straightened, I tilted my head back, letting my smirk carve deep into my face.
A deliberate insult.
The king's mask didn't crack, but silence weighed thick in the room.
I turned my back on him and walked out, every step dripping with pride.
Outside, my carriage waited. Exotic, polished ebony wood inlaid with gold filigree, velvet curtains draped across its windows. The horses that pulled it were black as night, their manes braided with silver thread. Luxury, power, dominance—this was a vehicle worthy of me.
The doorman bowed nervously, opening the carriage for me. His hand trembled. His lip was split, bruised purple.
I paused, gaze narrowing.
A memory flickered. That pest. That grinning, worthless little insect from the restaurant. Elisha.
The thought of him—his smugness—ignited a spark of irritation.
I scoffed. "A mere servant did this to you? Pathetic."
I climbed into my carriage and dismissed the man with a wave.
---
That evening, I returned to my mansion. My room, vast and luxurious, was scented with rare herbs. I bathed leisurely, water perfumed, heat perfect. Afterwards, a maid combed my long, silky blond hair. She tried—pathetically—to keep her eyes averted. But beauty demands attention. My face was sculpted perfection, my form undeniable.
She stole glances. Again. And again.
When her gaze lingered once too often, I cut her with a glare. Sharp. Cold.
Her head snapped down instantly.
Good.
A servant arrived, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "Young Master, your father requests your presence."
I sighed. Loudly. Rolled my eyes. "Of course he does. That man cannot breathe without leeching off my time."
I rose, dismissing the maid, striding out in nothing but my night robe. Did I care? No. This was my mansion. Let them all choke on their whispers if they dared.
In my father's study, he asked about the meeting.
"How did it go?"
"Pointless," I replied flatly, walking past him to pour myself a drink. "If you want details, ask the king yourself. I don't waste breath repeating nonsense."
Before he could protest, I walked out. Done.
Back in my chamber, I sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The map lay on the table nearby. Tomorrow, the journey began. A tomb where no man had returned.
They would call it suicide.
I called it inevitability.
Because unlike the rest, I would return. And with the Heart of Mei in my hand.
---
The next day passed like ash.
Morning was dull. Afternoon was emptier. I grew thirsty.
"Wine," I commanded.
Lucky's Restaurant was the only place that brewed liquor worth my time. Rare vintages, especially one called Emperor's Smile. Fit for kings. Fit for me.
I tossed thirty gold coins to a servant. "Bring it back. And if you fail, don't come back at all."
Hours later, I sat in the training courtyard, watching worthless recruits fumble basic footwork. They called themselves aspiring raiders? They couldn't cut a leaf in half with their clumsy steps. Disgusting.
"Useless," I muttered, standing. "You'll never rise beyond insects."
When the servant finally returned with three bottles of Emperor's Smile, I took them, dismissing the failures. Alone, I opened one bottle, inhaled its rich fragrance. The taste—smooth, fiery, perfect.
At least something in this world wasn't incompetent.
---
The following morning, dawn crept slowly. I rose lazily, bathed, dressed in black trimmed with gold. My hair gleamed like silk, tied back loosely. Perfection incarnate.
A servant approached with a note. I glared at him before he could speak.
"You expect me to read this? If I can't be bothered, do you think I'd waste time squinting at paper? Read it."
He stammered, opened the note. "Th-the king… requests the presence of all five raiders. At the woods… leading out of town."
So. He'd found a fifth.
"Finally," I murmured, smirking. "This should be entertaining."
I sat to eat breakfast, savoring each bite. After today, no more luxuries. But that was fine. Victory would taste sweeter.
---
My carriage rolled into the woods hours later, wheels crunching against leaves and gravel. The air here was damp, the canopy of trees blotting out the sun.
The king's carriage was already there.
I stepped down slowly, boots touching the earth with deliberate grace. I ignored the king, ignored the others. My gaze swept over them only once, dismissing them all.
And then—
I saw him.
That pest. That worthless lowlife.
Elisha.
The boy who dared grin at me. The boy who had mocked me.
My lips curved into a smirk, venom dripping.
"Well," I thought. "This is going to be… amusing."
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