The throne room was illuminated by the light of dusk.
The stained-glass windows cast golden and reddish patches across the enormous tapestries depicting the glories of the Erkhan dynasty.
But that afternoon, Felipe Erkhan was not looking at the tapestries.
Before the throne, a table was covered with documents.
There were so many that some had begun piling on top of one another.
Reports from temples.
Requests for pilgrimages.
Complaints from nobles.
Records of citizens who had abandoned their former occupations.
And, above all, lists.
Thousands of names.
Felipe remained seated, one hand resting on the arm of the throne, while the chancellor reviewed the latest report.
Edran turned a page.
Then another.
Finally, he placed the document on the table.
"Your Majesty..."
Felipe raised his gaze.
"Speak."
The chancellor took a deep breath.
"The blessings are continuing."
Felipe frowned slightly.
"I already know that."
"I'm not referring to the heroes."
The king straightened in his seat.
"Continue."
Edran picked up another document.
"The temples have begun blessing ordinary citizens."
Silence.
Felipe slowly lowered his gaze toward the papers.
"How many?"
"Tens of thousands have requested them."
"And how many have received them?"
Edran hesitated.
"A considerable number."
The military adviser, who had been standing beside one of the columns, spoke.
"They aren't soldiers, Your Majesty."
Felipe looked at him.
"Then who?"
"Farmers. Craftsmen. Hunters. Merchants."
He paused.
"Even some members of the garrisons."
Felipe picked up one of the documents.
"What kind of blessings?"
"Minor ones."
Edran opened another report.
"Some receive an increase in strength. Others improve their endurance, senses, or ability to use mana."
He turned a page.
"They don't turn an ordinary man into a hero."
He raised his gaze.
"But they make him stronger."
Felipe remained silent for several seconds.
"Give me an example."
Edran seemed to have been waiting for the question.
He searched through the documents and pulled out a sheet.
"A young woman from a village in the north received a minor blessing from the Temple of Earth."
Felipe raised an eyebrow.
"Result?"
"Before, she needed four men to move certain loads. Now she can do it alone."
"And?"
"She asked for training."
Felipe waited.
"Then she quit working for her lord and began working as a hunter."
The king placed the document back on the table.
"A peasant?"
"Yes."
The military adviser slowly exhaled.
"And she isn't the only one."
Felipe looked at the accumulated reports.
"How many?"
"We don't have an exact figure."
Edran pointed to several sheets.
"But the pattern keeps repeating."
Felipe picked up another document.
"What's happening here?"
"Craftsmen who have begun working directly for the temples."
Another.
"And these?"
"Young people from minor families."
Felipe raised his gaze.
"What do they want?"
"Training."
The king frowned.
"And why aren't they going to the noble houses?"
Edran held his gaze.
"Because they have another option now."
Silence fell over the room.
Felipe looked at the documents again.
A woman who had received a blessing.
A young man who could use mana better than before.
Hunters who no longer needed the protection of a lord.
Families that preferred sending their children to the temples.
None of those things seemed dangerous on their own.
But together...
Felipe slowly rested a hand on the arm of the throne.
Then he understood.
For generations, the nobility had built its power on something deeper than land or titles.
People needed to depend on someone.
On a lord who could protect them.
On a house that could provide training.
On an army capable of keeping monsters at bay.
On a noble with enough resources to survive difficult times.
But the temples were offering something different.
Power.
You did not need to be born a noble.
You did not need to belong to an ancient bloodline.
You did not need to wait decades to learn how to control mana.
All you needed was a blessing.
Even a small one.
Felipe clenched his fingers.
"How much has the situation changed?"
Edran lowered his gaze toward his documents.
"Enough that some noble houses are beginning to lose workers."
"Beginning?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The military adviser stepped forward.
"House Varen has lost one hundred and thirty-two workers over the past few months."
Felipe looked at him.
"All to the temples?"
"Most of them."
"And House Darel?"
"Two hundred and seven."
Felipe remained motionless.
"Also?"
"Yes."
The king slowly turned his gaze back toward the lists.
"And the hunters?"
The military adviser shook his head.
"It's worse."
"Worse?"
"Many are leaving the noble houses to work directly with the temples."
Felipe closed his eyes.
For the first time, the scale of the problem began to take shape.
They were not losing soldiers.
They were not losing land.
They were not even losing taxes.
They were losing dependence.
A farmer who could hunt monsters no longer needed as much protection.
A craftsman with a blessing could negotiate from a different position.
A young man who received training from a temple no longer had to wait for a noble house to accept him.
The structure was not collapsing.
Not yet.
But something had begun to loosen within its foundations.
"We can't force them to stay," Felipe murmured.
"Not without turning the problem into something bigger," the adviser replied.
Felipe opened his eyes.
"Exactly."
It was not a rebellion.
It was not a war.
It was not even a protest.
It was something much slower.
And for that very reason, much harder to stop.
People were discovering that they could live differently.
Edran picked up another document.
"And that brings us to the most important problem."
Felipe raised his gaze.
"What is it?"
The chancellor placed the report on the table.
"The Temple of the God of Lightning."
Felipe closed his eyes for a moment.
He already knew the name that would follow.
"Leonardo."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The name hung in the throne room.
Edran opened the report.
"His growth has been much faster than that of the other temples."
"How much?"
"About twenty percent of the urban population actively participates in the temples."
Felipe did not react.
Edran continued.
"And more than half of them recognize Prince Leonardo as a divine hero."
The military adviser frowned.
"And they're no longer limiting themselves to prayer."
Felipe raised his gaze.
"Explain."
"At first, they were spontaneous gatherings."
He stepped forward.
"Then came the demonstrations."
Another step.
"Now there are organized groups."
Felipe narrowed his eyes.
"Organized how?"
"They protect temples. Patrol certain streets. Collect donations. Spread the priests' orders."
He paused.
"And some have already begun clashing with the guards."
Felipe's expression hardened.
"Have they used violence?"
"In some cases."
"And Leonardo?"
The adviser shook his head.
"We don't know whether the prince himself is encouraging that fervor."
Edran intervened.
"But he hasn't tried to stop it either."
Felipe remained silent.
That was worse.
Leonardo did not need to have ordered anything.
His mere existence was already causing changes.
Every blessing.
Every public appearance.
Every victory attributed to the prince.
Every sermon.
Everything fed the same idea.
Leonardo was not simply a prince.
To a growing portion of the kingdom, he was someone chosen by a god.
Felipe slowly stood.
He walked before the dais.
"It's not just faith."
His footsteps echoed through the room.
"It's power."
He stopped before the table.
He looked at the thousands of names.
"My son is being turned into a symbol."
Edran lowered his gaze.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Felipe picked up one of the reports.
"And a symbol can become something far more dangerous than an army."
The military adviser remained silent.
Felipe placed the document back on the table.
"What are the nobles saying?"
"They're worried."
Felipe looked at him.
"I already know that."
Edran swallowed.
"Some are demanding that the activities of the temples be restricted."
"And what else?"
"Others want to prohibit churches from granting blessings outside their own territories."
Felipe slowly shook his head.
"No."
The two men looked at him.
"If we attack the temples directly, we'll turn devotion into persecution."
"Then what will we do?"
Felipe sat down again.
"We control the narrative."
His voice was firm.
"The Crown will respect the faith."
He paused.
"But no one, not even a hero, will stand above the kingdom."
Edran took note.
"And Prince Leonardo?"
Felipe took several seconds to answer.
"He needs to understand his duty."
His gaze hardened.
"He's a hero."
A pause.
"Not a ruler."
Edran raised his pen.
"Should we restrict his public appearances?"
"Not yet."
Felipe looked toward the stained-glass windows.
"First, I want to know how far his influence reaches."
Edran closed the document.
But he did not leave.
"There is another matter, Your Majesty."
Felipe turned his gaze toward him.
"Prince Andrew has requested an audience."
The king remained still.
"When did he arrive?"
"Before dawn."
A pause.
"He's been waiting ever since."
Felipe slowly exhaled.
Andrew.
Leonardo.
Two sons.
Two paths.
And a throne between them.
"Send him in."
Edran bowed and withdrew.
The enormous doors began to close.
Felipe was left alone.
For several seconds, he stared at the reports piled across the table.
Thousands of names.
Thousands of people who had received something the Crown had never been able to give them.
An opportunity.
A little power.
A chance to change their destiny.
Felipe raised his gaze toward the stained-glass windows.
The reddish light of dusk spread across the floor like blood.
For years, he had believed the greatest danger to a crown was another king.
Now he was beginning to understand something far more unsettling.
A king could be defeated.
An army could be destroyed.
A rebellion could be crushed.
But how did you fight an idea?
Outside, the bells of a temple began to ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Felipe did not take his eyes off the reports.
I do not fear divinity.
The bells continued.
I fear the men who believe they speak in its name.
The final sound slowly faded away.
Felipe closed his eyes.
For the first time in many years, the throne seemed less solid than before.
Not because someone was trying to take it from him.
But because, little by little, the world was beginning to discover that perhaps it no longer needed permission to live.