The King sat upright upon his golden throne while the Flint patriarch waited respectfully at the dais steps, hands folded within pristine white silk sleeves.
"If House Flint clears the spatial rift without delay," the patriarch said smoothly, his voice steady and polite, "I trust the Crown will honor our private agreement."
"You have my solemn royal word," the King replied, his deep voice echoing through the vaulted hall. "Retrieve the rift core, and eastern jurisdiction transfers to your house permanently."
"My concern lies elsewhere at present," the King added, his brows furrowing with deep worry. "Two search parties went after the princess, and neither has returned."
"My knights can expand the search grid tomorrow morning," the patriarch offered with an aristocratic incline of his head. "Losing Her Highness would devastate the entire realm."
'The Crown borrows my swords for an uncharted dungeon rift, and pays in mineral rights... as always.'
The strategic arrangement cost him nothing to honor and everything to abandon, representing his favorite variety of political transaction.
The King barely weighed the convenient offer, as the devastating report on Gazel's fallen detachment weighed like lead upon his mind.
The grand throne doors opened before either statesman could exchange further pleasantries regarding the dangerous dimensional Gate mining rights.
Princess Didi walked into the hall with her chin raised high, radiating the formidable royal presence of her deceased mother.
The King rose abruptly from the golden throne, descending the marble dais steps before the royal herald could announce her safe arrival.
"Didi!" the monarch cried out, his royal composure shattering in an instant.
He abandoned royal decorum on the third step, wrapping his armored arms around his daughter with profound, trembling paternal relief.
Tension throughout the vast chamber eased in an instant, as several senior councilors released long-held breaths against their collars.
Royal scribes quickly dipped their quill pens into black ink wells, recording the princess's uninjured return upon official state parchment.
The Flint patriarch stepped aside with an aristocratic bow, granting the emotional royal reunion the precise space court etiquette demanded.
'She survived after all... there goes a lucrative succession crisis I already calculated down to the last silver coin.'
Then his calculating eyes spotted the exiled youth walking behind her, accompanied by an alert, hooded wolf girl.
A flicker of intense annoyance crossed his aristocratic features before he could suppress the emotion behind an unreadable expression.
'I ordered that miserable failure to rot in the southern slums... instead he walks boldly into the throne room behind royalty.'
Calculation replaced the irritation within a single breath, the way it always did for the ruthless family head.
'If he revealed his true lineage to this court... silencing him quickly represents the cleaner and cheaper cleanup option.'
"Thank the gods you are safe," the King murmured, pulling back to cup her face in his calloused hands.
The King's discerning eyes suddenly drifted past her shoulder, landing upon the two ragged figures standing behind her.
"Who are these two?" the King asked, his tone instantly shifting into that of a suspicious monarch.
"My saviors, Father," Didi answered proudly, stepping aside to present them. "This is Hajin... and his companion Juna."
"They pulled me out from beneath that nightmare monster," she explained firmly. "And escorted me safely home."
"Who taught you manners, boy?" the King questioned, narrowing his eyes as he took in Hajin's dusty posture.
"A long line of people who hit much harder than they taught, Your Majesty," Hajin replied with a dry, respectful bow.
"And for the record," Didi interjected, raising her chin defensively, "he carried me two miles through that forest... the dried mud on his coat is mine."
The stern expression upon the monarch's face softened slightly, before profound grief darkened his features as memories of the battle surfaced.
"News of the royal detachment reached me at dawn," the King said, his voice dropping into a somber, sorrowful rumble. "I am deeply sorry about Gazel."
"He was one of our finest kingdom champions," the monarch added with a quiet sigh. "The entire realm owes his memory an eternal debt."
The haughty composure Didi maintained in the hallway crumbled entirely, as hot tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
"He died protecting me," she whispered, her voice cracking with raw guilt. "When I gave him every reason to ride away."
"He died executing his final sacred oath," the King comforted her gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "His name will be honored as an imperial hero."
"We will carve eleven names beside his on the memorial stone," Didi swore, wiping her tears with a clenched fist. "That debt stays open until I settle it personally!"
Eleven grieving noble families would soon learn what it cost a stubborn princess to seek unearned glory in wilderness combat.
The King rested a firm hand upon her shoulder, before turning his imposing, colossal gaze toward the two waiting commoners.
A suffocating aura of absolute authority descended over the hall, leaving the watching courtiers afraid to draw another breath.
Hajin froze in place, discovering that the ambient atmospheric pressure inside the cavernous throne room warped around his shoulders.
No drawn weapon appeared, and zero elemental mana flared, yet the invisible royal pressure made the marble floor feel distant.
Aristocratic ministers along the walls found sudden fascination with their feet, holding their breath beneath the monarch's overwhelming presence.
The immense royal aura bore down with the suffocating weight of an iron vault, testing the youth's physical balance and mental composure.
Invisible waves of dense golden mana rolled across the polished marble, rippling the fabric of Hajin's worn canvas coat.
'How powerful is this monarch... why does the high vaulted ceiling suddenly feel like an unverified rumor?'
'Why direct this crushing spiritual pressure at me inside his own throne room... unless this greeting is a deliberate test?'
The King advanced two paces and extended his open hand slowly, resembling a patient huntsman offering food to wild game.
Every honed street survival instinct screamed in violent alarm, prompting Hajin to take a swift, fluid step backward, dodging the royal grip.
A sharp chill prickled along the nape of his neck, realizing he just evaded the reigning monarch before an entire company of royal guards.
'Find a clever sentence that makes dodging royal physical contact sound like thoughtful court etiquette... immediately.'
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Hajin apologized smoothly, keeping his hands politely behind his back. "Someone of your elevated stature should not touch this much dried monster blood."
The crushing magical pressure vanished from the hall instantly, dissipating like a heavy debt forgiven upon a royal whim.
Two perimeter guards shifted their halberds aggressively, but the King dismissed their intervention with a casual wave of his hand.
Silence gripped the cavernous throne room for one breathless heartbeat, before the King threw his head back in booming, thunderous laughter.
[ ashley(mod): i have now watched a teenager dodge a king, chat behave yourselves accordingly ]
[ CringeSlayer91: the reflexes said no before the brain woke up, this man is built different ]
[ NewViewer_02: he dodged a king and then apologized about laundry, survival instincts off the charts ]
[ LurkerNoMore: the king laughed like a dad at a school play, monarchy speedrun complete ]
'Not the right moment... slide the chat interface aside and keep my focus entirely upon the dangerous political figures in front of me.'
"Sharp physical instincts," the King chuckled, rubbing his bearded chin with genuine amusement. "And a good heart to match... a remarkably rare combination."
"Though for a boy trying exceptionally hard to look unremarkable," the monarch added, his eyes piercing through Hajin, "you carry an intriguing spiritual aura."
Hajin maintained a polite bow, keeping both hands buried inside his canvas pockets like patient and watchful back-alley creditors.
Dozens of high noble lords whispered among themselves along the perimeter, evaluating the mysterious young commoner with intense curiosity.
The grand crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling reflected warm afternoon light across the ornate gilded royal throne room.
'Can he sense the divine fragment... or merely the abnormal mana currents coursing through my newly forged Ring channels?'
"Stop teasing him, Father," Didi protested, crossing her arms with a pout. "He dragged me out of that slaughter yesterday and kept me alive through the cold night."
"There is zero need to test him the very moment he enters your throne room," she scolded, stepping between them.
"Not out of malice, little star," the King smiled warmly, holding up his hands. "Curiosity simply got the better of an old warrior."
"When an unknown youth saves my daughter's life," the monarch stated, "I must take his true measure."
Several paces away, the Flint patriarch observed the exchange in absolute silence, activating his refined mana vision the moment the King applied pressure.
He fully expected to observe an empty spiritual core and the pathetic residue of a talentless, broken young family outcast.
Years ago, the boy possessed fractured spiritual pathways that refused to retain even a trace of refined elemental mana during formal clan trials.
Now, those identical pathways pulsed with seamless, luminous clarity that defied every known principle of noble spiritual cultivation.
Instead, his specialized sight detected dense, unblemished mana currents flowing through perfected spiritual channels with astonishing, fluid precision and balance.
His eyes narrowed, recognizing that extraordinary energetic density from memories of the boy's deceased commoner mother.
'She channeled identical pristine currents in total silence... and I buried that unresolved mystery along with her corpse.'
'The palace servants whispered about her songs calming entire wings, and I dismissed those reports as superstitious gossip.'
'The boy inherited her mysterious spiritual power... and it awakened inside a slum gutter rather than within my estate.'
'His core circulates energy without imperfection, entirely lacking the spiritual fractures the academy scholars declared permanent.'
'Did the harsh conditions of the southern slums awaken a dormant bloodline that never stirred beneath my aristocratic roof?'
A dormant divine bloodline awakening altered every single calculation upon his political chessboard, because the boy ceased being a family embarrassment.
He represented an active, lethal political hazard, standing four paces from the throne with the crown princess openly advocating his cause.
'Assassins cost gold and generate dangerous questions... and rumors in this royal palace travel faster than gold coins.'
'If the King values this youth... he requires a significantly subtler and more patient method of political handling.'
'First I shall uncover what awakened within his soul... then I decide which financial balance sheet he belongs in.'
While the ruthless patriarch recalculated his board, a small notification illuminated the upper corner of Hajin's visual field.
[ Donation - ashley(mod): 500 Credits ]
He suppressed a visible physical reaction before the court, which would have required an absurd and convoluted royal explanation.
[ ashley(mod): that pressure was genuinely terrifying even through the screen, the king lives up to the title ]
'Not now, Ashley... nobody in this court can perceive me staring at an invisible floating celestial broadcasting panel.'
A secondary status window expanded beneath the donation receipt, displaying vital metrics he ignored since the woodland monster battle.
[ Stream Status: Active ]
[ Viewers: 187 ]
[ Soul Energy: 94 ]
[ Fragment Recovery: 0.012% ]
[ Rank Progress: 16,500 / 500,000 ]
[ Juna Wing Progress: 15,000 / 300,000 ]
'Viewer count approaches two hundred... and divine recovery accelerated tenfold from one royal rescue and a long walk.'
'The Goddess awakens faster as viewership climbs... the cosmic audience becomes infrastructure, and I despise owing large crowds.'
Juna leaned against his elbow with one wolf ear monitoring the royal dais, whispering in a low and guarded tone.
"Your face went completely strange again," she grumbled, her nose twitching. "Whenever that invisible thing talks to you."
"Just a message from very far away," Hajin whispered back with a wry smirk. "Saying the King looks formidable on camera."
"Spectators with opinions, coins, and no manners," Juna huffed, flicking her tail. "Though the credits spend nicely on food."
"The King is terrifying," she added in an urgent, hushed tone. "He smells like a dense forest right before lightning strikes."
"Finally we agree on something," Hajin replied, keeping his voice beneath the court chatter. "Stay close to my side until we are safely outside those massive doors."
Across the grand hall, past the broad shoulder of the laughing monarch, the Flint patriarch fixed his icy gaze upon Hajin.
The ruthless stare contained zero familial warmth, measuring the young stranger thoroughly from his worn sandals to his eyes.
Senior ministers in the front ranks exchanged guarded glances, wondering why the great patriarch scrutinized an unknown commoner so intently.
The King remained standing upon the lower dais step, his watchful eyes tracking the silent currents flowing between the two men.
The golden tether connecting Hajin to his sleeping patron goddess pulsed with steady vitality amid the tense aristocratic hall.
Ancient political rivalries and divine destinies converged beneath the throne room banners, heralding an era of unprecedented kingdom turmoil.