The tension in the royal chamber was thick enough to choke on.
Golden chandeliers glimmered overhead, but the air was heavy, stale — like light itself dared not intrude on the truth about to unfold.
The king sat upright, his hands folded tightly, his eyes darting between the three students before him. Ragnar's stare burned holes through the silence. Light leaned lazily back in his chair, though his fists were clenched. Yuuki sat still, his posture calm but his eyes— razor sharp and calculating.
"You called us here to talk peace," Ragnar finally said, his tone low, steady, dangerous. "But you don't want peace. You want obedience."
The king's jaw tightened.
"This isn't about obedience, boy. It's about survival."
Ragnar's lips curved into a hollow smirk.
"Survival? Don't insult me. You've got an army strong enough to push back. You've got the council of mages, the guardian knights, even the Five Crowns if you wanted. So why… are you bending the knee?"
The nobles began murmuring again, uneasy whispers filling the chamber.
The king stood, his voice shaking.
"Because if we fight, we win… but we fall! The monster nation would break our walls and tear our cities apart. Even if we triumph, Valtoria will bleed for decades. My people will starve. My soldiers will die. I will not sacrifice my kingdom for pride!"
His voice cracked on the last word — pride.
Ragnar's expression didn't move. His eyes were shadowed under his bangs, but his fists trembled.
"So instead, you'll sacrifice us."
The king flinched.
Light leaned forward, tone bitter.
"You talk about protecting your people… but you're sending children to a monster nation you barely understand. Do you even realize what that sounds like?"
The king swallowed, unable to meet their gaze.
Yuuki had been silent all this time, watching, listening. His mind was running faster than anyone else in the room — every pause, every slip of tone, every nervous glance from the nobles. He could tell something didn't add up.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"You said if we fight, we win."
The king looked at him, surprised.
"What?"
"You said, we win. You didn't say if we lose. That means you already have the means to win… don't you?"
The room froze.
Yuuki's voice stayed calm, but his words sliced like a blade.
"So you can defeat them. You're just afraid of what comes after."
The king's throat bobbed.
"You're… perceptive."
"No," Yuuki said, eyes gleaming. "I'm logical. And I also know someone else helped you make this decision. Someone who convinced you that selling us off was the 'right' choice."
The king's expression shattered — a brief flicker of fear crossed his eyes. He didn't confirm it, but that single moment was all Yuuki needed.
"You didn't decide this alone," Yuuki continued softly. "You're being manipulated."
Ragnar leaned forward, his voice colder than ice.
"So that's it. You're not just a coward… you're a puppet."
"Enough!" the king roared, slamming his hand on the armrest. His voice echoed through the chamber, cracking through the silence. "You don't understand the weight of leadership! I carry this burden so my people don't suffer! You—"
Ragnar stood. His chair screeched against the marble.
"No. You carry your fear, not your kingdom."
The king froze, unable to speak. Ragnar's mana pulsed faintly — the floor beneath his feet cracked slightly as shadows flickered around him, invisible but heavy.
The air thickened.
Light rose slowly beside him, his golden hair brushing against his shoulder as he muttered,
"Guess the rumors were true then. The mighty King Alaric of Valtoria… the man who bows before monsters."
Yuuki stood too, calm but firm.
"And now we know why the monster nation's demands sound so specific. Someone fed them information. Someone inside your own circle."
The king's eyes widened — not in anger, but fear.
He hadn't told anyone that.
Ragnar's thoughts:
So even your court is rotting from within… Moon, Null, monsters, now betrayal from inside. How pathetic can one kingdom become?
The king slumped back in his throne, exhausted.
"You don't understand what's at stake. The organizations behind all this — they're not simple enemies. 'Moon' seeks to erase Saint High completely. 'Null'… we don't even know what they're planning. And there's another one — the one pulling the strings behind them both. They've already infiltrated our systems. Our soldiers. Our trade routes. You think war is our only problem? You think I have a choice?"
Light clicked his tongue.
"You had a choice. You just didn't have courage."
Ragnar's voice came out low, final.
"Tell us what you want from us, and stop pretending this is diplomacy."
The king looked between them, guilt heavy in his eyes.
"After the tournament ends, you three will travel to the monster nation as representatives of Valtoria. You will negotiate peace… or serve as collateral if talks fail."
Yuuki's hands trembled — not in fear, but fury. Light's eyes darkened. Ragnar's jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
The king's voice softened, desperate.
"I get you want to refuse but listen—"
Light's smirk returned, sharp and cold.
"Who said we were refusing to go?"
Yuuki's glare hardened.
"We'll go. Because unlike you…" he paused, voice steady, unflinching, "…we're not cowards."
Ragnar turned toward the door.
"Let's go, Light."
"Yeah," Light muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Yuuki followed silently.
As they passed, nobles instinctively stepped aside — the air they carried was suffocating, burning with fury and resolve.
Vincent moved quickly, stepping beside them, his expression tense but protective. He placed himself slightly in front — shielding them out of instinct, like a brother protecting his siblings from the stares of the court.
"Don't look back," he whispered. "You've already made your point."
They didn't.
The massive doors closed behind them, slamming shut like the final strike of a gavel.
Silence filled the throne room.
The king sat alone, trembling, sweat beading on his temple. He looked at his shaking hands — and whispered to himself,
"Forgive me… I just wanted to save them…"
Far away — on a distant cliff overlooking the royal castle — a figure stood. Wrapped in black silk and shadow, her presence felt like a whisper at the back of the mind — alluring, cold, and deeply unsettling.
The wind howled around her, yet her voice cut through the air like a lullaby soaked in madness.
"Perfect, Ragnar…" she cooed, her tone both sadistic and serene. "It's finally time for you to start blooming."
Her laughter echoed faintly — not loud, not manic, just wrong. The kind of sound that made the air feel colder and the world slightly less sane.
And as the night deepened, the first step of her plan — The Demon Queen's Crest — had begun.