The palace was a hive of activity. Sarvents ran through the vast hallways, their faces etched with urgency and anxiety. Guards rushed past each other with messages, the clattering of armor and footsteps echoing like a rising storm. The air was thick with tension, a silence before the tempest.
King Bera strode through the corridors with purposeful steps, his face a complex mask of relief and worry. His eyes burned with a mix of hope and sorrow. At last, he reached the door of his youngest son's chamber—Prince Kall's room.
With a deep breath, he pushed the door open.
"Kall, you're awake," the king said softly, but his voice was heavy with emotion. "Thank the gods... You're saved."
Kall's eyes fluttered open slowly. His gaze met his father's, and he managed a faint smile. "Yes, Dad... but there are so many things I need to ask."
King Bera nodded, his expression darkening. "I know, my son. But there isn't much time."
Kall's brow furrowed. "Why? What's happening?"
The king's voice dropped, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "War. A war is coming."
Kall's heart sank. "War?! But... which country has the power to stand against us? We are strong, aren't we?"
Bera's face tightened. "Naga."
Kall's eyes widened in shock. "Naga? The kingdom of the princess I was supposed to marry?"
"Yes. The marriage proposal has been postponed. The king of Naga has evolved—he reached the Body Immortal stage. And the princess... she's no longer just a princess. She has become a Warrior Queen. Her power is unmatched."
King Bera's voice dropped to a grim whisper. "She commands a five-star sarvent. We do not know its class, but it is strong—very strong. And time is against us. We cannot forge weapons quickly enough, nor recruit enough soldiers to match their strength."
Kall's fists clenched. "What about my brothers?"
Bera sighed deeply. "Your eldest brother was poisoned. He will live, but he's paralyzed—unable to move or act. The others have returned from the academy, but only Loki, the second prince, has a powerful sarvent. Unfortunately, that sarvent alone cannot turn the tide of war."
The king's gaze softened slightly, resting on Kall. "Now, you are our hope. Before you fainted, you were at the Stage Five Beginner level. But I do not know how much you can help."
Kall's eyes narrowed, sensing there was more. "You're forgetting to tell me something."
Bera hesitated, then replied slowly, "Which country sent the assassin who tried to kill your brother?"
Kall's voice was sharp. "Which one?"
"The Naga Kingdom."
Kall's jaw clenched. "Those bastards... Dad, I think we can stop this war."
The king looked at him skeptically. "How?"
Kall took a deep breath, steadying himself. "There's a master—a powerful being—who appeared to me in a dream. He told me that if I become his disciple, he would help me once when I truly need it. I could make any wish, and he would grant it, but only once. After that, he would leave."
Bera's eyes widened in disbelief. "You want to ask for help with the war?"
"No," Kall shook his head quickly. "I don't want his help yet. He only helps once. Instead, he taught me breathing techniques—ways to strengthen myself. If we win the war through our own efforts, then maybe you can help me become his disciple."
The king's face softened with pride. "That is a wise plan, son. I will consult the great elders and the emperor. We will try to avoid this war. And if we succeed, you won't need to call on this master."
Kall nodded firmly. "But... I want to participate in the summoning ceremony."
Bera's eyes grew serious. "Rest first. You need to heal completely before that."
---
Days passed, and Kall's strength returned fully. His body felt renewed and sharper than ever. His mind, too, was clearer—ready for the next challenge.
Knowing the importance of the summoning ceremony, Kall headed to the imperial hall. The palace corridors felt narrower and colder as he approached his father's chambers, where his two elder brothers stood by the door.
Kall knocked firmly on the heavy wooden door. Knock... Knock... Knock.
"Who is it?" came the deep voice of King Bera.
With a calm but resolute voice, Kall introduced himself, "Your Highness, Fourth Prince Kall arrives with a request."
The door creaked open, and the king's eyes narrowed. "Don't be so formal. What is your request?"
"I want to perform the summoning ceremony today," Kall said.
The second prince scoffed, "You're a worthless trash. You have no power or skills. How will you summon a spirit?"
But his defiance was cut short as the air grew heavy. Both princes felt a sudden, chilling aura emanating from Kall—a killing intent they had never before seen.
It wasn't King Bera's aura. It was Kall's.
The second prince swallowed nervously.
"Fine," the king said reluctantly. "I will grant your wish. You may proceed. But wait... do you want to participate in the contest? The reward is entry into the royal academy."
Kall's heart quickened. "Please give me some time."
"You have until next Sunday."
---
---
The day of the ceremony arrived quickly. The third prince greeted Kall impatiently. "Ready? Let's go."
Kall nodded, steady but focused.
The carriage rumbled along the grand roads until they arrived. Outside the imperial hall, crowds of nobles, warriors, and sarvents buzzed with excitement.
"Heh, look who's here. The little trash brother ready to show himself," sneered the third prince.
Suddenly, an old man descended from a platform near the grand doors. His eyes twinkled with wisdom and mischief.
"Well, well... it seems the elder princes have come. The rumors are true—a great tournament is about to take place between our country and Naga. That's why all of you are here for the ritual ceremony."
Kall's brow furrowed. "A tournament?"
The old man smiled faintly. "Your father instructed us not to tell you, but now you know. Four months from now, the tournament will begin. The prize is enrollment in the prestigious international academy. The judge will be the head of the International Academia, a powerful figure indeed."
The second prince smirked. "Father wants to see what your sarvent will be, Kall. Although we all expect it to be as useless as you."
Kall clenched his fists, but said nothing.
The old man motioned for them to enter. "Now, please come with me for the ceremony."
---
Inside the grand hall, Kall felt the atmosphere shift instantly. A deep, oppressive pressure weighed on his chest, as if the very air was thickening.
His veins throbbed, his pulse racing like thunder.
He seated himself on the raised platform, trying desperately to calm his breathing and focus his mind.
Before him stood an army of spirits—ethereal beings shimmering with raw power, their eyes fixed on him.
"Consume!" Kall shouted, summoning his magical energy.
He tried again, "Tornado!"
But to his horror, none of his spells took effect.
The spirits passed through him as if he were air.
His heart pounded, and doubt clawed at his mind.
Why won't they respond? What's happening?
Kall clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.
"This can't be over so soon..."