—Storm is rising
The moment the Emperor's final words echoed through the grand royal court, the silence that followed was no longer calm, but suffocating.
It was not the silence of respect.
It was the silence of disbelief.
Hundreds of eyes, filled with different emotions, slowly turned toward a single figure standing among them.
Nahil.
He stood there calmly, his posture straight, his expression composed, as if the storm that had just been unleashed held no power over him.
Yet within his mind, there was no confusion.
Only clarity.
So this is how the royal world works…
A single decision.
A single sentence.
And his life had been completely overturned.
The whispers began almost immediately.
At first, they were controlled, restrained by the presence of the Emperor.
But human nature could not remain silent forever.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty…"
The voice was firm, aged, and filled with authority.
An elder minister stepped forward, his robes marking his high position within the court, his expression cold as his gaze fixed directly on Nahil.
"How can a boy like him be worthy of our Princess?"
The words spread through the hall like a ripple in still water.
Nahil did not move.
"He has no background," the minister continued, his tone sharp, "no achievements, no recognized talent, and no standing within the empire."
His gaze narrowed slightly.
"Forgive my bluntness, but such a person standing beside the Princess is nothing short of a stain upon the dignity of the royal family."
A few ministers shifted slightly.
Others nodded faintly.
The restraint began to crack.
Another voice rose.
"Your Majesty, this decision may create instability among the noble families."
"And what will the Northern Empire think?" another added.
"They will see this as weakness."
Then—
a younger official, unable to restrain himself, spoke with open disdain.
"A piece of trash like him… standing in the royal court…"
His eyes were filled with contempt.
"…how can he even breathe the same air as the Princess?"
The words were sharp.
Cruel.
Deliberate.
For a brief moment—
everything stopped
All eyes turned toward Nahil.
Waiting.
Would he react?
Would he show anger?
Would he lower his head?
Nahil remained still.
His expression did not change.
But inside—
his thoughts moved slowly.
Trash…
The word echoed in his mind.
In the past, such words would have hurt him.
Made him angry.
Made him want to prove himself immediately.
But now—
What they say… is not wrong.
He had no background.
No achievements.
No power.
Right now—
he truly was nothing in their eyes.
And yet—
That will change.
His gaze remained steady.
He did not argue.
Because he understood something clearly.
Words have no meaning here.
Only strength does.
At the throne, Emperor Smaguel observed everything without interruption.
His eyes moved from the ministers…
to Nahil.
He was watching.
Testing.
Before the tension could rise further—
a calm voice cut through the hall.
"Enough."
Princess Imaria stepped forward.
The air itself seemed to shift.
A faint chill spread across the court, subtle yet undeniable, as if her presence alone suppressed the rising unrest.
Her gaze swept across the ministers.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
"Since when," she said slowly, "did the royal court become a place for uncontrolled speech?"
No one answered.
"To question this decision," she continued, "is to question His Majesty."
Her voice was not loud.
Yet it carried an authority that pressed heavily upon everyone present.
The elder minister lowered his head slightly.
"We meant no disrespect, Your Highness."
Imaria's eyes lingered on him for a moment.
Then she spoke again.
"You speak of dignity."
A pause.
"Then understand this."
Her gaze turned slightly toward Nahil.
"Dignity is not something inherited."
"It is something proven."
The words echoed clearly.
For a brief moment—
even the ministers were silent.
Nahil felt those words.
Not as protection.
But as a challenge.
Proven…
At the throne, the Emperor finally spoke.
"This matter is decided."
His voice ended all resistance.
"Court dismissed."
As the assembly began to disperse, the suppressed tension broke into quiet conversations.
"This will cause trouble…"
"He cannot survive in the palace…"
"This decision… is too risky…"
Nahil walked out of the hall without looking back.
Each step he took felt steady.
Measured.
But inside—
Golden Core before twenty…
The Emperor's condition.
The ministers' insults.
The Princess's words.
Everything overlapped.
If I fail…
He did not complete that thought.
Because he already knew the answer.
Failure is not an option.
Outside, the open courtyard greeted him with fresh air, yet the pressure in his chest did not disappear.
A few moments later—
Imaria stepped out.
She stopped a short distance away.
Nahil approached her.
For a moment, silence remained between them.
Then she spoke.
"You heard everything."
Nahil nodded.
"Yes."
"They will not accept you easily," she said.
Nahil gave a faint smile.
"I never expected them to."
Imaria turned toward him fully.
"The royal family is not a place where people live freely," she said slowly.
"Every person here represents power."
"Every action has consequences."
Her voice was calm, but her words carried weight.
"If you stand beside me…"
"…you will be targeted."
Nahil did not look away.
"I understand."
Imaria's gaze sharpened slightly.
"No," she said.
"You do not."
A brief silence followed.
"Outside," she continued, "strength is enough."
"But inside the palace…"
"Strength alone is not enough."
Nahil listened carefully.
"You must understand alliances."
"Power balance."
"Hidden intentions."
Her voice became slightly colder.
"People here smile while planning your downfall."
Nahil's eyes narrowed slightly.
So even strength is not enough…
For the first time—
he felt the true weight of his situation.
Then Imaria spoke again
"You cannot remain as you are."
Her tone left no room for argument.
Nahil nodded slowly.
"I know."
"There is a place," she continued, "where you can grow faster."
Nahil looked at her.
"The Royal Academy."
Her words carried importance.
"It is where the empire gathers its most talented cultivators," she explained.
"Princes, nobles, and geniuses train there."
"It functions like a sect."
"Resources."
"Techniques."
"Competition."
Nahil understood immediately.
A battlefield… disguised as a school.
"You will be registered there," Imaria said.
Nahil did not hesitate.
"I accept."
She studied him carefully.
"You will not be protected there."
"In fact…"
Her eyes turned slightly colder.
"You will be targeted even more."
Nahil smiled faintly.
"That is exactly what I need."
For a moment—
Imaria remained silent.
Then—
a faint change appeared in her expression.
Approval.
"Good."
She turned away.
"Prepare yourself."
As she walked away, Nahil remained standing in the courtyard.
His thoughts were no longer uncertain.
They were focused
And Clear.
They call me trash…
His hand slowly clenched.
Then I will become something they cannot even look at directly.
The palace.
The academy.
The future.
Everything pointed toward one path.
Strength.
And this time—
he would not stop.b