The first time I stood before the King with awareness behind my eyes, I realized why they called him the Iron Sovereign.
Not because of his armor—he wore none.
Not because of cruelty—he ruled fairly, if coldly.
But because his will bent men like steel beneath a blacksmith's hammer.
And I, a child of barely four, stood before the forge.
I was summoned at dawn.
The Royal Court's inner sanctum—a place where even generals bowed and whispered—was silent as I entered.
My footsteps echoed against marble etched in runes of old. At the far end, seated on the throne of obsidian, was King Alarion Vael'Thorne.
My father.
He didn't smile.
Didn't greet me.
Didn't blink.
[Scanning: Alarion Vael'Thorne – Class: Sovereign (Sealed)]
[Level: ??? / Alignment: Lawful Neutral / Status: Suspicious]
[Warning: Presence induces Willpower Suppression – Auto-resistance engaged.]
"Approach," he commanded.
I walked forward, slow and calm. My heartbeat remained steady, thanks to my internal training module.
He studied me with sharp, gray eyes—calculating, piercing, ancient.
"You accessed the Vault," he said flatly.
So. He knew.
I said nothing.
His gaze hardened. "The seal placed upon it by your mother was not meant to be bypassed by a child. And yet…"
He stood. His presence rolled over the room like a pressure wave.
"You are not a child, are you?"
I met his eyes. "Would you prefer I pretend to be?"
A long silence followed. I didn't move.
He descended from the throne. Each step radiated intention, like the entire room was bending to him—not through magic, but sheer force of self.
When he reached me, he knelt to my level. His face was unreadable.
"Tell me, boy," he said quietly, "why are you hiding it? The fire. The hunger. The mind that's not your own."
"I'm not hiding," I replied. "I'm preparing."
He nodded once. "Good."
Wait.
[Alert: Sudden Alignment Shift – King Alarion: Interest +25]
"You are my son," he said, standing tall again. "The world does not need another boy pretending to be kind. It needs a prince unafraid to carve a path through time and myth."
He motioned to the guards. "Leave us."
The armored sentinels bowed and vanished like shadows.
When the doors shut, the air changed.
"My wife is a goddess in disguise," he said softly. "You, my son, are something stranger. You were not born to follow."
He turned away, arms behind his back.
"Starting tomorrow, you will no longer study with Elrin alone. You will receive new tutors—commanders, philosophers, seers from the Crimson Order. They will test your limits."
He looked over his shoulder.
"If you fail, I will erase your existence from the line of succession. Do you accept this judgment?"
I nodded. "I accept."
That night, a new system notification appeared.
[Hidden Trial: The Iron Path – Activated]
Survive 12 Trials before your 10th birthday. Success grants Sovereign Class Access and hidden technologies. Failure results in bloodline suppression and memory lock.
Trial 1 Begins in 72 Hours.
And below that…
[The King has granted you access to a concealed relic: "The Heart of Empyrean Steel"]
[Do you wish to inspect it?]
"Inspect," I whispered.
A projection formed in my mind—a metal heart, pulsing with living machinery and divine flame, forged from materials unknown to this world.
An ancient remnant from a lost empire not of this dimension.
My breath caught. Was the King holding back alien relics?
Or worse… had he conquered other worlds already?
He was training me.
But not as a prince.
As a weapon.