In the following days, a subtle change could be noticed in the castle. It was not immediate, nor was it something very obvious, you could simply feel it.
The guards no longer looked at Arthur with expressions of challenge or resentment. Their eyes reflected respect, and something close to fear.
Patrols became more orderly. Internal disputes decreased. Decisions were no longer made on impulse but began to follow structure. It was not an open revolution, but it was a change in culture.
And Gunlaug noticed.
A few days later, the small movements began.
First, spies.
Guards who had once been loud started observing in silence. Some asked unnecessary questions. Others always seemed to appear at just the right moment when Arthur gave an order.
Then came the provocations.
One guard brutally beat a Sleeper over a minor theft. Another confiscated resources that did not belong to him. A third started an unnecessary fight in the dining hall.
It was obvious. They were crossing the line on purpose and wanted to see how he would react.
Before, those cases ended in trial if one of the affected Sleepers reported it. That did not happen often, because everyone knew Gunlaug's trials were nothing more than public executions disguised as order. A display of power. A reminder of who ruled.
This time, Arthur did something different.
He spoke with the thief and made him return what he had stolen. The punishment was extra work for weeks and the loss of privileges. There was no blood. No report. No public humiliation. No death.
And that was what triggered the first confrontation.
Gunlaug summoned him that very night.
The throne hall was occupied by the lieutenants and Gunlaug when Arthur entered.
"I was told you avoided a trial," the Bright Lord said.
"I did."
Gunlaug observed him for a long moment.
"It was a perfect opportunity to reaffirm authority."
Arthur immediately defended himself. "My authority does not need corpses."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"People need fear," Gunlaug finally said. "Fear maintains order."
"Fear maintains obedience," Arthur corrected. "Not order."
Gunlaug released the presence of his Transcendent Echo.
A sharp pain pierced Arthur's mind, as if something were trying to bend his will.
"Hold the trial tomorrow. That's an order."
His will rejected the command before his mind could even analyze it.
"No."
The word came out simple. Clear.
Gunlaug leaned forward on his throne.
"Excuse me?"
Enduring the pressure in his mind, Arthur replied, "I will not kill a Sleeper for stealing food."
For a few seconds, the atmosphere turned uncomfortable.
Gunlaug remained silent, as if measuring the situation and to the surprise of them, he let it pass.
"Very well," he finally said. "For now."
But the message was clear.
The rope was beginning to tighten.
Minutes later, Seishan closed her chamber door with more force than necessary.
"Are you insane?" she asked, turning toward him. "Why are you going against Gunlaug right now? This was not part of the plan!"
Arthur remained silent for a moment before answering.
"I'm not going to let Gunlaug order me to kill a Sleeper over a simple theft."
"It's just a Sleeper!" she shot back. "The plan is more important! What if Gunlaug had confronted you right there? Even if you killed him, we still don't have the guards completely on our side. It would have been a massacre inside the castle!"
Arthur dropped into a chair.
"I know. But you don't understand."
Seishan looked at him in frustration.
"Then explain it."
Arthur lifted his gaze.
"It's my Flaw."
She blinked.
"Your Flaw?"
"Yes. I cannot follow a will that isn't my own. When Gunlaug ordered me to carry out the execution… my Flaw wouldn't allow it. Because I didn't want to do it."
Silence filled the room.
Seishan looked at him with new attention.
"Why are you telling me your Flaw?"
Arthur held her gaze.
"Because I feel like I can trust you."
She went still.
"Besides," he continued, "I already deduced yours. So it's fair."
Seishan frowned slightly.
"What do you mean you deduced mine?"
Arthur tilted his head.
"It's not that difficult. Every time we meet, you're drinking a red liquid. Everyone thinks it's wine. But I have a good sense of smell."
His golden eyes locked onto hers.
"It's not wine. It's blood. So your Flaw must be related to an urge toward blood."
Seishan coughed lightly, looking away for a second.
"Well… when you put it like that, it sounds obvious."
Then she looked back at him.
"This changes things. If you can't follow Gunlaug's orders, we can't keep this farce going much longer."
Arthur nodded.
"I know."
"Then we're going to have to speed up the plan," Seishan added, bringing a hand to her chin. At that moment, she remembered a rumor a handmaiden had told her. "We have another problem too."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Today I heard that Gunlaug is looking for another lieutenant to take Harus's place."
Now it was Arthur's turn to bring a hand to his chin.
"Mmm, that's definitely not good," he said. "If the new lieutenant is loyal to him, we won't be able to bring him to our side. And I'd rather not have to eliminate him."
At that moment, Seishan stood and poured herself a drink. She offered one to Arthur, but he refused, knowing what she was drinking.
Bringing the glass to her lips and taking a sip, she said, "Don't you think your ego has grown a little?"
Arthur tilted his head slightly. "Hm?"
"Why did you assume you'd be the one who would have to kill him? Do you think I couldn't?"
Raising his hands in surrender, he replied, "I never said that. I just assumed it would be right for me to handle it, so you wouldn't have to put yourself in danger."
In a more teasing tone, she responded, "Oh? So now you think some nobody could defeat me?"
"You know that's not what I meant," he said seriously, lowering his arms.
She took another sip and, with a smile, simply replied, "I know, I know. And I appreciate that you worry about those things."
After that conversation, a couple of days passed in which the tension in the castle kept growing.
At first glance, it was not noticeable. There were no shouts. No open confrontations. But it was there. In the way the guards looked at one another. In how the hunters began consulting Arthur instead of Gunlaug before making decisions. In how the handmaidens changed their routes to cross certain corridors.
Arthur remained leader of the guards, and with each passing day, loyalty toward him increased. Not out of fear.
Out of consistency.
Patrols responded faster. Orders were clear. Punishments were fair. No one disappeared in the night without explanation.
The group of hunters led by Gemma began to align as well. The same happened with Kido's artisans. Even among the handmaidens loyal to Seishan, some had already been captivated by Arthur's presence.
It was not a coup. It was a silent migration.
And Gunlaug knew it.
The new crime happened three days later.
Two guards had scammed Aiko, owner of a small betting establishment inside the castle. They manipulated odds, diverted resources, and threatened a couple of regular clients.
Aiko did not report it, but one of her most loyal customers did.
That very night, the dining hall once again became the stage.
The guards moved the tables away from the center. Torches illuminated the hall with an orange light that made the shadows appear longer.
Around fifty common inhabitants of the castle watched in silence. A couple dozen guards surrounded the perimeter. Hunters leaned against columns. Handmaidens stood quietly observing.
At the center, the guards released the Sleeper who had made the report and stepped back.
Gunlaug spoke.
His speech was the same as always. Justice. Order. Consequences. Empty words wrapped in power.
Finally, he turned toward Arthur, who stood at his side with the rest of the lieutenants—except Kido.
"Since the crime occurred within the castle's limits and was committed by a guard, it falls under your jurisdiction."
Many looked at Arthur expecting to hear a "no" or something similar, but this time was different. Arthur began descending the steps with steady, calm strides.
The Sleeper at the center looked at him with fear, but Arthur did not return the look.
He stopped a few meters from the center and turned, fixing his golden eyes where Gunlaug's would be hidden behind that Echo.
"I will not follow your orders."
A murmur ran through the dining hall.
And before anyone could react, he added:
"I invoke the right of challenge."
Silence.
Then a laugh.
Gunlaug leaned slightly on his throne, amused.
"Right of challenge?" he repeated. "It seems killing Tessai went to your head. Besides, this Sleeper has nothing to do with you. Who do you think you're going to challenge, fool?"
Arthur did not hesitate.
"Obviously you."
The hall exploded in murmurs.
At that same instant, he summoned [Umbral Husk].
The armor began covering his body with its dark, resilient design that seemed to absorb the torchlight. Dawn's Ballad appeared in his hand with a faint glow.
Gunlaug rose to his feet, and his presence filled the hall.
"Ah… what a waste," he said with feigned disappointment. "And I thought you had potential. It seems I was mistaken about you, Arthur."
Arthur lifted his chin slightly.
His voice rang firm and clear, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Arthur?" A pause. "I'd prefer you call me Paragon of Purity."
The effect was immediate. The eyes of the Sleepers in the hall widened, and whispers began to spread.
The weight of a True Name was not trivial, especially when it was spoken voluntarily by a Sleeper. It meant he had obtained it in his First Nightmare. There had only been three similar cases in history and only 4 people knew about the 4th cas.
Gunlaug let out a laugh.
"Paragon of Purity?" he mocked. "Another True Name… like that other insolent one."
His smile sharpened.
"What a pity you'll die so early."
He descended the steps slowly and once again released the pressure of his Echo.
Arthur felt it, but did not step back.
On the side stands, Seishan did not move, but on her beautiful face was an expression of confusion and something like betrayal. Understandable, Arthur had never told her he had a True Name. In fact, the only person present who knew was Sylvie.
Beside Seishan stood Gemma, arms crossed, wearing a similar expression. And on the other side was Sylvie. Even though she knew Arthur possessed a Divine Aspect, three cores, Dawn's Ballad—an Ascended-rank memory—and countless hours of training, she could not help but worry.
He was about to face someone who had likely spent even more time training and fighting other Sleepers or Nightmare Creatures—and not to mention his Transcendent Echo.
Gunlaug stopped a few meters away.
"Right of challenge," he said with a crooked smile. "Very well. Let all bear witness."
The pressure increased.
"The Bright Lord accepts."
The Sleepers pressed themselves against the walls, giving Paragon of Purity and the Bright Lord the space their battle demanded.
The Sleeper who had made the report was dragged out of the center by two guards, and now nothing but empty space separated the two combatants.
Two men stood face to face.
One was tall, covered in a strange golden armor that followed the lines of his powerful body. The other was wrapped in black armor that seemed to swallow the torchlight.
There was a subtle similarity between them.
Both emanated a marked presence, a confidence very few possessed.
Both were dangerous.
Both stood at the peak of their class.
The Bright Lord was taller than Arthur. Heavier. His reach was longer. His experience killing people is greater. And that was without counting the Transcendent Echo he wore as armor—a power few could even confront.
Yet on the other side stood the last descendant of the Djinn.
Someone with a Divine Aspect and three cores.
Someone who had obtained a True Name in his First Nightmare.
Someone who held a degree of control over reality itself.
But more important than all of that… someone who had much to protect.
And that was worth more than any physical advantage or experience his opponent might have.
The moment Gunlaug stood before Arthur, his sentence was already signed.
Suddenly, Gunlaug's armor began to distort. The liquid gold forming it moved forward and, in an instant, took the shape of a battle axe.
Arthur lowered his stance slightly.
He maintained two enhancements on his body and redirected one toward Dawn's Ballad, holding it in guard before him.
There was no countdown.
No signal.
The fight for leadership of the castle had begun.
Gunlaug exploded forward in a terrifying charge, fast as lightning. The shift from stillness to violence was so instant that most present did not understand what was happening until moments later.
With each stride of the Bright Lord, the throne hall floor trembled slightly. He launched himself at Arthur like a furious giant made of gold, swinging his battle axe with an absurd mix of agility and brutal strength.
Arthur reacted in time, shifting his body and raising Dawn's Ballad to deflect the lethal blow aside. Then the unexpected happened.
The axe's shaft suddenly lengthened. The liquid gold composing it flowed forward, adopting a new shape. As a result, the deflection was almost useless.
Almost.
At the last instant, Arthur lowered his center of gravity. The blade passed centimeters above his head, slicing through the air where his neck had been a heartbeat before.
Gunlaug did not waste the opening.
He took advantage of the proximity and launched a direct kick to Arthur's chest.
The impact sent him several meters back. Arthur dragged his sword along the ground to slow his momentum, sparks flying until he stopped. He rose calmly.
"Oh… this will be fun." He smiled.
That confused many of the Sleepers pressed against the walls, even the lieutenants.
This time, he attacked.
Arthur advanced with explosive speed, concentrating enhancements in his legs. Dawn's Ballad traced a series of rapid cuts aimed at different angles of the golden torso.
The liquid gold reacted each time.
There were no joints. No seams. No weak points. The armor had no cracks or stitches. It was a perfectly smooth surface that moved like a living organism.
In one exchange, Arthur saw his own reflection in the golden surface and felt pressure in his mind.
It was not a direct attack. It was subtler. The armor was demanding that he submit before it.
Arthur frowned and stepped back.
He activated a micro use of Static Void.
A fraction of a second in which the space around Gunlaug should become uncomfortable, slightly distorted—enough to ruin his rhythm.
Nothing.
He tried again, this time at the moment of impact, seeking to alter the Bright Lord's footing.
Again nothing.
The Transcendent Echo absorbed the irregularity as if reality itself refused to counter it.
Gunlaug counterattacked with a savage sequence of blows. The axe shortened and lengthened, changing form mid-swing.
Over several seconds, they exchanged numerous strikes, each deflected, dodged, or blocked. There was nothing elegant or refined about it—only barbaric violence and cruel brutality, each doing everything possible to break, mutilate, and kill the other.
Their voices sounded like those of wild beasts, partly from the extreme effort of the duel, but also to release the murderous pressure and bloodlust threatening to drown their minds.
That did not mean they had lost control.
Both were cold-blooded fighters and knew how to remain lucid in the midst of the most intense fury.
The Bright Lord's golden armor remained flawless, without a single mark.
Arthur's, on the other hand, already bore a couple of shallow cuts and light dents. Nothing serious yet.
A second of separation.
And they launched at each other again.
This time, without restraint.
The first clash had been a test to measure capabilities. Now they were no longer holding back. They were throwing everything they had.
The impact of their weapons echoed through the hall. Those pressed against the throne room walls trembled.
Gunlaug chained an unexpected spin. The axe split into two temporary edges before recomposing, and one of the cuts slipped past Arthur's guard.
The armor failed to withstand the impact, and a clean cut appeared along his forearm. Not deep—but enough for blood to spill.
Arthur stepped back.
If his face had been visible, they would have seen Gunlaug smile at the sight of blood.
Arthur raised his arm slightly, showing the wound for all to see.
The blood fell for a second—then the skin began to close.
The flesh regenerated before everyone's eyes. Within seconds, the cut disappeared completely.
Now it was Arthur's turn to smile.
The murmurs grew louder.
Gunlaug adjusted his stance and attacked with greater ferocity.
The axe descended with renewed violence. Every blow carried true killing intent. The floor cracked beneath his steps. The gold flowed more aggressively.
But there lay his mistake.
In his anger, his rhythm became slightly more predictable. Slightly—but enough. Arthur did not hesitate.
He activated [Former King].
In that instant, Arthur's expression became completely neutral, incapable of showing emotion. His mind split into two perfectly differentiated layers. All his humanity was set aside. Only calculations remained. Angles. Distances. Ways to kill.
And in that—Gray was exceptional.
In mere seconds, multiple plans formed in his head to end Gunlaug.
He chose the most brutal one.
His presence changed. Not in volume—but in density. It became absolute. Unquestionable. His gaze lost every trace of amusement. When he moved again, he no longer seemed like someone trying to defeat his opponent.
He seemed like someone reclaiming what belonged to him.
To be King.
Arthur withdrew all augmentation from Dawn's Ballad and concentrated it into his own body. His muscles. His perception. His speed. In that state, he felt at the peak of everything.
Then he moved.
To most present, it was as if he had teleported behind Gunlaug. No one could follow the transition. At the last instant, Arthur closed his eyes and redirected all enhancements back into Dawn's Ballad.
The sword took on a deep purple hue and descended.
The blade struck the Bright Lord's arm—the one holding the golden axe—and for the first time, the armor gave way.
The sword pierced the liquid gold, and Gunlaug's arm was cleanly severed, falling to the floor a second later.
For an instant, there was silence. Then came the screams. Exclamations of disbelief. Of excitement. Of terror.
Arthur paid them no attention.
The golden armor reacted immediately, sealing over the shoulder to contain the bleeding. The liquid gold solidified into a smooth surface where an arm had once been.
Gunlaug turned violently—but it was too late.
Arthur was no longer there.
He had shifted again, appearing on the opposite flank, ready to repeat the motion. This time, Gunlaug managed to react, twisting his torso at the last moment, forcing the blade to graze instead of sever.
Even so, the impact forced him back several steps.
A question hung in the air, though no one voiced it.
How much longer could this continue?
The answer came seconds later.
Instead of insisting on the remaining arm, Arthur changed targets mid-motion. Dawn's Ballad descended along a different trajectory, aimed at the abdomen.
The armor held for the first instant—but the Ascended-rank sword, enhanced three times, kept advancing.
The gold yielded.
The blade sank just below the ribs. Not a full impalement—but enough.
Arthur withdrew the sword immediately and stepped back.
For the first time since the duel had begun, the golden armor did not regenerate with the same fluidity.
The liquid gold forming it looked irregular. Gunlaug stepped back half a step.
His breathing was no longer steady. The pressure he emitted began to fluctuate.
The Bright Lord was losing strength with each passing second.
And Arthur knew it.
Taking advantage of the opening, he enhanced himself three times with aether again. His figure disappeared and reappeared beside Gunlaug.
But this time, he did not attack immediately.
He raised Dawn's Ballad with clear intent, openly showing he was about to sever the other arm.
Gunlaug noticed.
He forced his body backward, trying to move out of range of the blade, and at the same time lengthened the golden axe. The shaft stretched like liquid gold solidifying mid-motion, seeking to crush Arthur's head from the front.
At the last instant, Arthur abandoned the attack and crouched.
The axe passed above him. Without stopping, he stepped forward and swept Gunlaug's left leg with a low, precise movement.
The Bright Lord lost his balance.
It was minimal—but enough.
At that same instant, Arthur activated Static Void—but not as before. This time, he put all his will behind it.
Reality stopped. It was not a sensation. It was a fact.
Gunlaug's weakened body and his Transcendent Echo tried to resist—but they could not.
The previous exhaustion, the blood loss, and the accumulated damage did not allow them to oppose that absolute imposition.
Arthur wasted no time.
He enhanced Dawn's Ballad again, and the sword once more took on that deep purple hue. He drove it straight into the Bright Lord's chest.
The golden armor tried to react. The liquid gold concentrated over the heart, hardening. It held for an instant.
But under the pressure of Static Void—with reality itself immobilized—the accumulated damage finally took its toll.
The blade penetrated and sank directly into Gunlaug's heart.
Immediately, Arthur released Static Void.
Time flowed again.
The sword was still embedded in the Bright Lord's chest. A second later, Arthur pulled it free. Gunlaug's body remained upright for a brief instant, as if it still did not understand what had happened. Then he fell, slowly and lifeless.
[You have slain Dreamer Gunlaug]
[Your aether grows stronger]
The Bright Lord lay at the feet of Paragon of Purity.
And the castle had a new King.