Prince Josh the Second and Relia Amia slipped like shadows through the endless palace of King Sinnabad — a palace so massive it felt less like a series of buildings and more like a continent that had simply decided to grow walls.
Relia kept glancing around, alert, graceful, her assassin instincts flaring at every sound.
Josh, on the other hand, walked like he owned every inch of marble beneath them.
Five years old.
Tiny.
But carrying himself like someone's reincarnated great-grandfather.
Behind them, in absolute secrecy, Naze followed… or rather stumbled after their emotional footprints — because he was blind, and this entire situation was testing the limits of his sanity.
---
Their first stop was Prince Chalibad's Quarters
When they reached Prince Chalibad's section, Relia's eyes widened.
Josh just looked unimpressed.
Naze felt the size of the place through vibrations in the stone and quietly whispered:
"…this place has its own climate."
The quarters were enormous — practically a kingdom on their own. If Chalibad wanted, he could host festivals, run a small army, and still have room left over for an ego storage hall.
Josh and Relia peeked over a wall.
Chalibad was in the open courtyard, bare-chested, sweat gleaming on skin carved like marble. He had clearly just finished some intense combat exercise, the kind meant to intimidate enemies and seduce half of the continent simultaneously.
Relia blinked.
Josh raised a brow.
Naze muttered, "I can FEEL chest muscles I cannot SEE. Kill me."
Around Chalibad stood other princes—leftovers of the king's endless romantic disasters—each one strategically trying to latch onto the strongest horse in this race to the throne.
One man in particular stood out.
Adinibad.
A prince with a cunning smile, a greasy voice, and the natural aura of someone who had been lying since he was in the womb.
He was in full performance mode.
"My prince, you are a god among MEN!" he declared loudly for the fifteenth time. "In the tournament three days from now, you will crush them all! Even your father will bow before your power! And when you bed that foreign empress—"
Several princes winced.
Relia rolled her eyes.
Naze tried to bite his own knuckle to stop himself from screaming.
Josh simply smiled.
Not a cute child smile.
A knowing, quietly amused, ancient smile.
"Oh, this is rich," he whispered.
Relia tilted her head. "What is?"
Josh studied Chalibad with eyes that didn't belong to a child at all.
"On the surface he looks like a disciplined prince," Josh murmured. "But in truth, he's more vain than the others. He pretends he doesn't crave worship, but if Adinibad stopped praising him, he'd lose his mind in under a minute."
Relia stared at him.
Josh continued calmly, "Even the late Prince Balek wasn't this empty."
Relia's heart skipped.
Prince Balek.
The first son of Groa Aratat, emperor of Nazare Blade Empire.
That name wasn't public history.
It wasn't palace gossip.
It wasn't something a five-year-old boy should know.
Balek had lived before Emperor Josh Aratat even took the throne.
A warrior prince.
Prideful.
Unyielding.
Honorable.
Dead long before this child was born.
Relia's breath caught.
A chill slid down her spine.
How does he know Balek?
Josh simply squinted at Chalibad's technique like an experienced general judging a rookie soldier.
"Hmm. Even Balek's warm-ups were more impressive," he muttered.
Relia had to physically shake her head to clear it.
No. Stop. Don't think about it. This child is already strange enough.
She shoved it aside the way one ignores seeing an inexplicable sight in their living room.
Just another one of his… oddities.
---
Meanwhile — Naze's Internal Dialogue was going the wrong way.
Far behind them, Naze crouched behind a pillar, massaging his temples like a blind prophet trying not to have a psychic meltdown.
"I'm begging the gods…" he whispered hoarsely. "ALL the gods. New ones, old ones, forgotten ones—anyone listening—please save me from this unending clash of variables that are not adding up."
Then he tensed in shock again at another thing prince Josh said.
Naze's fingers curled.
He let out a slow, dying exhale.
"I should've stayed in bed today."
Prince Josh remained crouched beside Relia Amia, his small hands resting calmly on the stone ledge as he watched Prince Chalibad—first son of King Sinnabad—continue boasting and strategizing with the thirty princes gathered around him.
The courtyard was a furnace.
The sun reflected off Chalibad's sweat-slicked skin as he balanced upside-down on his hands, muscles shaking, veins bulging, every breath strained but proud.
He wasn't just training.
He was performing.
"I don't know who Father will choose to represent him," Chalibad panted through clenched teeth, "or what form the competition will take—but I must be ready."
His voice carried the desperation of someone who feared irrelevance more than death.
Adinibad, ever the shadow licking at his heel, stepped forward with a grin far too sly for his own good.
"There was a lady who came with the queen," he said, voice oily. "She is so beautiful. My prince, can I have her?"
Relia's eyebrow twitched.
Chalibad didn't even pause his training.
He lifted one leg, perfectly controlled, the show of strength almost impressive—until he opened his mouth.
"Actually, Movibad has his eyes on her," he replied casually. "You should give up on that one."
Movibad.
Adinibad.
Chalibad.
All of them talking about her like she wasn't a living weapon who could break their necks before they blinked.
Relia's fingers slowly curled.
Her jaw tightened.
Her aura flared so sharply the air trembled.
They're talking about me…? About "having" me?
Josh's small frame stiffened beside her.
Relia turned and saw it—a dark, simmering expression far too dangerous to belong to a child.
His brows lowered.
His lips pressed into a straight line.
Every inch of him went cold.
"These trash are eyeing my woman…" he muttered, barely audible.
Relia felt her heartbeat stumble.
"And here I was," Josh continued, voice calm but laced with murderous promise, "thinking of gifting Chalibad my mother. He might just die during this competition…"
The fury was unmistakable—quiet, controlled, lethal.
The kind of anger ancient kings carried when armies threatened their throne.
Relia, who seconds ago was ready to leap over the wall and start a small genocide, suddenly froze.
His words—my woman—hit her again.
Her earlier rage melted, replaced with a heat that flooded her chest, her face, her pulse.
Her knees weakened.
Why… why does this child make me feel like this?
Josh reached out and seized her wrist—gently, but with the unspoken confidence of someone who knew she would follow.
Relia's breath caught.
Their hands… the height difference… the dominance he had no business having…
She let him pull her away without a word.
Naze, hidden somewhere behind a pillar, felt the emotional hurricane and nearly fainted.
Behind them, Prince Josh's earlier words echoed faintly across the courtyard—loud enough to be heard, but too unclear to understand.
Prince Chalibad instantly flipped upright, eyes snapping toward the wall.
"Who's there?!" he shouted, posture tense, ego bruised by even the idea of being spied on.
But when no answer came and the courtyard remained still, he slowly relaxed.
"Must've been imagining things…"
He returned to his training.
And somewhere far down the hall, Josh kept walking with Relia's hand in his, his eyes still simmering with the promise:
Touch what's mine… and die.
.