The wedding felt like something pulled from a dream.
It was the year 2025—a world overflowing with screens, satellites, and endless noise—yet the Gigal New Life Church stood untouched by modern time. No holograms. No artificial lights. No digital displays. Instead, ancient royal traditions shaped everything. Stone pillars carved with old symbols, banners stitched by hand, and guards clad in ceremonial armor lined the paths. The contrast was striking—technology ruled the age, but the church belonged to legend.
Even the nearby town had surrendered itself to celebration.
Posters bearing Yuuta and Erza's names were pasted across streets and walls, fluttering gently in the wind. It felt less like a wedding announcement and more like a festival proclamation. Under the calm authority of Grandpa and Father Nelson, every detail was arranged with sacred precision. Nothing was rushed. Nothing was careless.
By the time the sun climbed higher, the docks were already alive.
Ships filled the dockyard as far as the eye could see—luxurious vessels, private yachts, ceremonial boats—all arriving exactly as planned. Erza's routes had been flawless. Not a single guest was delayed. Not a single path left unguarded.
One by one, guests stepped onto the island.
They left behind the sea and began the long walk toward the great hall of the Gigal New Life Church, perched high above the mountain like a throne carved from stone. The climb itself felt ceremonial, as if the land demanded respect before allowing anyone closer.
The guests came from every chapter of Yuuta's life.
Children from Morning Star arrived first, holding their parents' hands, their eyes wide with wonder. Members of the Libeus Agency followed, quieter but no less amazed. Staff from the orphanage Yuuta had once helped—long ago, back when he was just another struggling soul—stood together, overwhelmed by how far he had come.
Fiona arrived with her team. Sam and Jin followed, laughing softly with their café staff. Maria, Varsha, Nammera—people who had once worked beside Yuuta in a humble café, hailing from South Asian countries—now found themselves walking toward a place that felt closer to myth than reality.
And then, they stopped.
All of them.
The church stood before them in breathtaking silence. Towering arches reached toward the sky. Soft light reflected off ancient stone. The air itself felt different—pure, heavy with history.
This was a place where no one had ever been allowed to marry.
Until today.
Erza had done what no one else dared to imagine.
Even Sara, who had seen power and authority up close before, stood frozen. As she stared at the church, a quiet realization settled in her heart.
This was what it meant to live as a dragon queen.
Terrifying. Absolute.
And today—
That power had been used not to rule, not to dominate—
—but to love.
The guests were soon guided into the main hall.
Sunlight poured in through high, open arches, washing the stone floor in warm gold. Old ceremonial lamps hung along the walls, their soft glow blending with the daylight and giving the hall a dreamlike, fantasy atmosphere—ancient and alive at the same time.
There were around a hundred and twenty-five guests in total.
Children laughed and ran about freely, their voices echoing through the hall, while Crusaders stood watch with calm discipline. Some guests instinctively reached for their phones, only to sigh and lower them again when nothing worked. No photos. No recordings. Only memories—pure and unfiltered.
Members of the Libeus Agency stood in stunned silence. Seeing their special commander's wedding held in such an absolute, sacred church left them almost breathless.
Elga had already claimed a massive chunk of roasted meat, chewing happily without a care in the world. Nearby, Fiona was busy with cotton candy, her expression unusually relaxed. Laughter, conversation, and warmth filled the hall as everyone waited for the ceremony to begin.
Then—
The Crusaders moved.
They marched forward in perfect rhythm, spears striking the floor once as a signal. A clear, commanding voice echoed through the hall, announcing the arrival of the groom.
Trumpets sounded first—long, triumphant notes that rang against stone. Drums followed, deep and steady, beating like a heart.
The Crusaders parted, forming a path down the center of the hall.
Yuuta stepped inside.
Every gaze turned toward him.
He wore a black suit—elegant, refined, unmistakably rare. Designed by a world-famous designer, it bore a unique insignia woven subtly into the fabric, a mark created just for this moment. Yet despite its cost and craftsmanship, what drew people's attention most was the man wearing it.
Yuuta walked forward slowly, each step measured.
As he moved, he saw faces that had shaped his life—faces from every chapter of his journey. James. Fiona. Sara. Sam. Loid. Jenny. Friends, allies, and people who had stood by him when he was nothing more than an ordinary man.
Warmth flooded his chest.
By the time he reached the center of the hall, he stopped.
He had taken exactly twenty-two steps.
It was tradition.
The groom would walk only this far—symbolizing the years he had lived alone. The remaining steps would be walked together with the bride.
A silent promise.
From this point onward, it would no longer be a journey walked alone.
The hall slowly fell silent.
All eyes turned toward the massive doors at the far end of the chamber as they began to open.
There was no announcement. No trumpet this time.
Only the sound of heels.
Slow. Measured. Each step carried an authority that could not be ignored. A presence so overwhelming that conversation died on people's lips without them realizing why.
Yuuta felt it before he saw her.
His breath caught. Heat rushed to his face, his eyes widening as the figure at the entrance came into view.
Erza stepped inside.
She wore a wedding dress of pure white, like a dove untouched by the world, yet it shimmered with a faint violet glow—soft and elegant, like a blooming lily beneath moonlight. It wasn't extravagant, yet it was impossibly regal. As if the dress itself acknowledged who she was.
She held Grandpa's arm.
Despite following a human church tradition, there was nothing ordinary about her presence. The entire hall seemed to bend toward her as she walked.
Erza took ninety-nine steps.
She had counted them.
Ninety-nine years of life. Ninety-nine steps of her own will.
When she finally reached Yuuta, Grandpa stopped beside him. He looked at Yuuta for a long moment, his expression trembling between pride and sorrow.
"My boy…" he began.
He paused, then shook his head.
"No," he corrected softly. "You are my son."
Yuuta blinked, confused, but he remained silent.
"A man who changed my cruel granddaughter into a loving woman," Grandpa continued, his voice breaking. "A woman who fought for her happiness… who didn't even fear death to be with you."
Tears slipped freely down the old man's face.
"I am ashamed," he admitted. "Ashamed of what I have done these past months. It took living among humans for me to understand what it truly means… to let go."
Yuuta didn't fully understand his words, but he felt the weight behind them.
Grandpa wiped his eyes, then gently placed Erza's hand into Yuuta's.
"Please," he said quietly. "Don't hurt my Erza. She may be cruel with her words, but her love is absolute."
His grip tightened for a moment.
"For her sake, don't die," he said. "Live. Live a peaceful life. So that when she one day returns to me… she can return with a smile."
Those words cut deeper than any blade.
Yuuta finally understood the pain hidden within them.
He was human—bound to a life of a hundred years at most.
Erza would live for thousands.
For her, this wasn't just love.
It was a gamble against eternity.
One where Erza had placed her eternity on a fleeting, fragile human life.
And yet—
She stood there without hesitation.
Nearby, Elena watched with shining eyes, bouncing on her feet in pure joy, clapping softly as she saw her mother and father standing together at last.
And in that moment, beneath ancient stone and sacred light, Yuuta realized—
This wedding was not the end of their trial.
It was the beginning of a life chosen in defiance of time itself.
Yuuta spoke gently, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.
"Don't worry, Grandpa," he said. "I won't die. And I will never leave her."
He turned to Erza then, looking at her with a softness that made her breath catch.
"Even if you run away someday," he continued, a faint smile touching his lips, "just like I did once… I'll follow you. The way you crossed worlds to reach me, I'll do the same. If you run back to your world, I'll chase after you without hesitation."
Erza froze.
Color rushed to her face, spreading all the way to her ears. She couldn't bring herself to speak. His words struck her too deeply, too honestly.
Grandpa watched them, then smiled—a quiet, relieved smile.
"I knew it," he said. "I made the right choice."
He placed Erza's hand into Yuuta's.
"Take good care of her," he said softly.
Then he gestured toward Father Nelson, who was waiting at the center of the hall, ready to begin the ceremony.
Yuuta tightened his grip just a little and leaned closer to Erza.
"Come," he said quietly. "Let's go, my wife."
Erza's eyes widened.
For a moment, she couldn't even breathe. Nervousness—something she hadn't felt in centuries—wrapped tightly around her chest.
Yuuta smiled at her.
"Let's walk together," he said, "all the way to eternity."
Erza finally smiled back, her voice soft but unwavering.
"Yes," she said. "We will… my husband."
Hand in hand, they began to walk.
Whispers spread among the guests, but not from doubt—from awe. They watched as the two moved forward together, perfectly matched, impossibly beautiful.
In that moment, it felt as though the world itself had paused.
As if gods and angels alike were watching silently—
Witnessing the union of a dragon queen and a human who refused to let her walk alone.
At last, they reached Father Nelson.
He stood at the center of the great hall, waiting patiently, the Holy Scriptures resting in his hands. His posture was calm, almost reverent, as he prepared to perform an ancient rite—one rooted in orthodox church tradition, older than the walls surrounding them.
In this ceremony, the groom was crowned as king, and the bride stood as queen, not of land or empire, but under heaven itself. It was a symbolic declaration—that marriage was a shared throne, a life ruled together.
For Erza, the meaning ran deeper than symbolism.
Even if it was only tradition, it meant Yuuta would stand as her equal. As a king. And that thought eased something she hadn't realized she was holding so tightly.
When they stopped before him, Father Nelson's face softened into a warm smile.
"My children," he said.
Erza stiffened.
She leaned slightly toward Yuuta, her voice sharp and low. "How dare this human call me child," she whispered. "He is barely forty years old."
Yuuta suppressed a laugh and whispered back, "Shhh. This is part of the ceremony. We're about to be bound for eternity—just endure it a little longer."
Erza turned her face away with a familiar hmph, folding her arms just enough to show her displeasure.
"Humans and their strange traditions," she muttered.
Father Nelson, either oblivious or wisely pretending to be, simply smiled. He lifted the scriptures a little higher, his expression growing solemn as he prepared to speak.
The hall quieted.
Guests leaned forward in their seats, conversations fading into silence. The joy, the laughter, the awe—all condensed into a single, expectant breath.
The ceremony was about to begin.
And with it, a promise meant to last beyond time itself.
Father Nelson glanced at the two of them, then gave a quiet gesture to the nearby guards.
They immediately understood.
One of them hurried away and returned moments later carrying a velvet-lined tray. Resting upon it were two golden crowns—one crafted for a king, the other for a queen. Their designs were ancient, simple, and dignified, reflecting a tradition far older than the world outside the church.
Father Nelson took the king's crown and stepped toward Yuuta.
He bowed slightly before him.
The sight made a subtle warmth bloom in Erza's chest. Watching Yuuta—her Yuuta—being acknowledged as a king stirred a strange, unfamiliar joy within her. Not pride. Not dominance.
Something gentler.
As the crown was placed upon Yuuta's head, he instinctively turned to look at her.
That was when it happened.
Erza froze.
Her face turned a vivid shade of red, and before she could even understand what was happening, a thin line of blood slipped from her nose.
Yuuta noticed instantly.
He smiled—far too calmly—and pointed. "Erza… your nose."
She panicked.
This had never happened to her before. Ever. And the last thing she wanted was to stain her pure white wedding dress. She stood there, stiff and flustered, unsure of what to do.
Without a word, Yuuta reached into his pocket and handed her a clean handkerchief.
Erza took it quickly, wiping the blood away while stubbornly refusing to look at him.
"T-thank you," she muttered, eyes closed. "It must be because I didn't get enough sleep. Don't misunderstand."
Yuuta raised an eyebrow, amused.
"I wonder," he said lightly, "how lack of sleep affects your nose instead of your eyes."
He laughed.
And before Erza could stop it, a few guests laughed along as well—their voices echoing softly through the hall. They hadn't realized the couple could be heard so clearly.
Erza's embarrassment deepened.
She clutched the handkerchief a little tighter, her face burning as nervousness wrapped around her once more—far more frightening than any battlefield she had ever faced.
Then Father Nelson lifted the crown meant for the Queen of Altnais.
He was unaware of the truth—that the woman standing before him was not merely a bride in a sacred ritual, but a real queen. To him, this was only an Orthodox tradition, a symbolic act passed down through generations. And yet, as his hands held the crown, even Father Nelson felt an inexplicable weight—as if he were truly about to place a crown upon royalty.
The moment the crown left the velvet cushion, a familiar chill ran through Erza's body.
Her mind drifted back to that distant day—the day she had bathed her hands in blood, slaughtering countless creatures and humans alike, all to claim a crown just like this. She remembered the moment it was finally placed upon her head… and how empty she had felt.
She had chased that crown her entire life.
Yet when she finally obtained it, there was no happiness. No fulfillment. Only a hollow silence that echoed inside her heart. The crown of the Atlantis Kingdom had symbolized ownership—proof that the kingdom belonged to her, and that she was bound to it.
But this crown—
This one was different.
It did not represent a kingdom.
It represented belonging.
This crown symbolized that her husband was hers—completely and irrevocably. That no one could take him from her, just as no force in any world could separate her from him.
Erza realized she was smiling.
Not the restrained, distant smile she often wore, but a genuine one—soft, warm, and impossible to hide. Her expression betrayed her completely, and for the first time, she didn't care. The cold mask she had worn for so long quietly faded away. There was no reason to wear it anymore.
As Father Nelson placed the crown upon her head—
The hall stirred.
One by one, the guests rose to their feet. No one told them to stand; their bodies simply moved, compelled by an unseen authority. Eyes widened. Breaths caught. A presence filled the room—ancient, dignified, and overwhelming.
From his seat, Grandpa's eyes brimmed with tears.
He remembered the Erza who had once become queen—back then, she had been like a void. No emotion. No joy. Only suffering wrapped in silence.
But now…
Now she was truly happy.
A happiness so clear that even an old man like him could understand it without a single word.
Yuuta stared at her.
For a moment, his heart stopped.
He had almost forgotten that she was a queen—a real one. He had never seen her wearing a crown before, and when he finally did, his breath left him entirely. His eyes widened, his heart pounding louder than anything else in the hall.
She was breathtaking.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, reflecting off the crown and dancing through her hair. Her beauty surpassed anything he had ever seen—something that could rival the most beautiful women of any world.
It was as if winter and sunlight had merged—
Cold and warmth, strength and tenderness—
Creating the most perfect view imaginable.
Yuuta's nose began to bleed.
He didn't even notice.
All he could see was his wife.
The Queen of Altnais.
Erza glanced at him from the corner of her eye. A soft, amused laugh escaped her lips as she leaned closer and whispered,
"Your nose is bleeding, mortal."
"Huh?" Yuuta blinked, confused. Only then did he feel the warmth on his upper lip. Before he could clumsily wipe it away with the sleeve of his suit, Erza reached out.
She extended the same handkerchief he had given her moments ago.
"Use this," she said calmly. "Wipe your nose."
Yuuta froze for a second, then took it. Embarrassed, he wiped the blood away and laughed awkwardly.
"It must be because I didn't get enough sleep," he said without thinking. "Don't take it the wrong way."
Erza paused.
Then she smiled—slow, playful, and dangerously beautiful.
"Oh?" she said. "I wonder how lack of sleep affects your nose instead of your eyes."
Yuuta realized what he had just said.
His shoulders slumped as he shook his head in pure embarrassment.
Soft laughter rippled through the hall. The guests had heard everything, and whispers followed soon after.
"They really are perfect for each other."
"Even heaven couldn't separate them."
"They're meant to be together forever."
At the altar, Father Nelson smiled warmly, convinced more than ever that he had made the right decision—binding these two under heaven itself.
Nearby, Grandpa wiped his eyes, his heart finally at peace.
This was right.
This was how it was meant to be.
Father Nelson lifted his gaze, his voice calm yet solemn as it echoed through the great hall.
"You may now begin your vows."
A gentle hush fell over the church.
"Today," Father Nelson continued, "before the world, before fate itself, these two stand not as strangers, nor as ruler and subject—but as equals. Two souls who chose one another, and will walk forward together."
Before Yuuta could speak, Grandpa raised his staff ever so slightly.
No one noticed.
Not the guests.
Not the crusaders.
Not even Father Nelson.
A transparent sphere bloomed silently around Yuuta and Erza, sealing their voices within it. To the world beyond, their vows would sound simple—ordinary words of love. But inside the barrier, truth was allowed to exist.
Grandpa closed his eyes.
This much… he could protect.
Yuuta took a slow breath and turned to Erza.
For a moment, the noise of the world faded. There was only her.
---
Groom's Vow — Yuuta
"Erza…"
His voice wavered, but he did not look away.
"I never believed someone like you would choose someone like me."
A quiet smile tugged at his lips, fragile but sincere.
"I was weak. Ordinary. Afraid of the world."
"And yet… you stood beside me anyway."
He swallowed, steadying himself.
"I vow to walk with you even when the path is painful.
To stay when running would be easier.
To hold your hand when the world fears you… and when you fear yourself."
His grip tightened around hers.
"I promise to build a home with you—not of stone or power, but of warmth.
To cook for you when you're tired.
To listen when you're silent."
His eyes softened.
"To love you not as a queen.
Not as a dragon.
But as Erza—the woman who chose me."
He exhaled, as if releasing everything he had carried.
"I give you my life, my future, and every ordinary day I have left."
"This is my vow."
---
Erza had faced execution grounds without flinching.
She had stood before entire kingdoms without fear.
Yet now… her chest felt tight.
She lifted her head and spoke.
---
Bride's Vow — Erza
"Yuuta…"
Her voice was quiet—but unshaken.
"I was born with power, yet I never understood love.
I ruled kingdoms… yet I did not know how to protect something fragile."
She looked down at him, truly looked at him.
"You taught me that strength is not domination."
Her fingers curled around his hand.
"It is staying.
It is choosing someone—even when the world says not to."
Her grip tightened.
"I vow to protect you—not as a ruler… but as your wife.
To stand between you and the world when it turns cruel."
Her voice softened, losing its edge.
"To share my burdens.
My silence.
And my failures—with you."
A faint smile appeared—real, unguarded.
"I promise to walk the human world at your side.
To learn joy, patience, and warmth."
"To be your partner.
Your family.
Your home."
She met his eyes.
"I choose you—today… and in every lifetime that follows."
---
Outside the barrier, the guests heard only gentle vows—simple, loving words.
But Grandpa felt it.
His hands trembled.
This was not a marriage of convenience.
Not a union of power.
It was choice.
Father Nelson smiled, unaware of the truth yet moved all the same.
"By these vows, freely given and deeply meant," he declared,
"I bind you—not by fate, nor by power—"
"But by choice."
He paused, then spoke the words that sealed everything.
"You may now seal this vow, With your lips.."
What ?? Erza said.
To be continue