Fear paralyzed Herzl. His body wouldn't move.
His voice was gone.
The strange eye in Grim's palm stared straight into his soul. It didn't blink. It didn't waver.
And neither did Grim.
Herzl's heart raced as panic took over.
Suddenly, Grim pulled his hand back, closing the eye. Herzl stumbled a step back, breath catching in his throat.
"W-What… what was that?" he asked, voice shaky.
Grim calmly looked out at the snow falling outside the carriage window.
"Do not fear. That was the Eye of Seeing. It protects all it watches.
For now… that includes you.
We're family now."
Herzl clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.
"What are you, Grim?" he asked, more firmly this time.
Grim chuckled quietly.
"You really don't get it yet, do you?
The world you know… and the world I live in…
are two very different things."
Before Herzl could respond, the driver called from outside.
"We've arrived, sir."
The carriage rolled to a stop.
Herzl looked ahead. His eyes widened.
Before them stood a grand mansion, towering in white stone and golden accents. It looked more like a palace than a home—regal and fortified.
Grim stepped out.
"This is the Prince's estate. I've got business inside. Wait here."
Herzl nodded cautiously. But suspicion was brewing in his chest.
Grim approached the entrance, but two guards stepped forward, crossing their spears.
"You're not permitted to enter," one said coldly.
Grim raised an eyebrow.
"You know who I am. What's going on?"
The guards exchanged looks, tension in their expressions.
"Emperor Wilhelm II is dead."
Grim's expression shattered.
Without another word, he shoved past them, breaking into a sprint.
The guards gave chase, shouting—but Grim was already inside.
Herzl stood frozen, shocked by the news.
The Emperor… dead?
He snapped into motion and ran after them.
The inner halls of the estate echoed with shouts.
Grim reached the Prince's door, banging on it with urgency.
"Prince Dutch! Are you alright? It's me—Grim!"
A voice called from within.
"Grim? …Yes. Come in."
The door opened.
Inside stood Prince Dutch, regal in posture, young but commanding. Around him stood eleven generals, clad in formal military attire. Their faces were grim. Their eyes judgmental.
Grim stepped forward, breathless.
"What's happening, Your Highness?"
The generals eyed him with contempt.
"So this barbarian wasn't informed," one sneered.
"He doesn't belong here," muttered another.
Before tension could rise further, a sharp voice cut through the room.
"Silence."
Everyone turned to the prince, whose presence silenced the chaos.
He stood tall.
"The time for war has come."
Later that day, the national broadcast was activated across the kingdom. Radios buzzed to life in homes, cafés, and town squares.
Prince Dutch's voice filled the airwaves—measured, authoritative, unwavering.
"Our king—our father—has fallen.
What is done cannot be undone.
But what lies ahead… is ours to command."
"Those who committed this atrocity shall face judgment.
Our kingdom, forged by the will of Alexander and built by generations, shall not crumble beneath the boots of cowards.
Let the Republic know: our mercy has limits. Our wrath does not."
"For the Fatherland!"
"FOR THE FATHERLAND!"
"LONG LIVE THE KINGDOM!"
"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"
"DEATH TO THE REPUBLIC!"
Herzl stood in awe.
He'd seen powerful men speak before. But Prince Dutch…
He was different.
His voice carried the weight of a nation. He spoke not as a man, but as a symbol. A force.
Herzl could feel it in the air—war was coming.
Back inside the mansion, Grim turned to Herzl with a glare.
"I told you to wait outside."
Herzl shrugged with a faint grin.
"I wanted to see what all the noise was about."
"Silence." The prince's voice once again commanded the room.
He addressed the generals.
"Is the army prepared?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Good.
Deploy the ground forces in twenty-four hours. The plan moves forward."
Grim leaned forward.
"And what are our orders?"
The prince looked to him.
"You and your men will infiltrate their command structure.
Feed them lies. Let them grow arrogant. Overconfidence will be their downfall."
"Understood." Grim turned to Herzl. "Come on."
As Herzl began to follow, the prince stopped him.
"What's your name?"
"Hermann Herzl, Your Majesty."
Dutch nodded, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"I expect great things from you."
Herzl bowed deeply.
"I won't disappoint."
So much had changed in a single day.
This morning, he was walking through the streets, contemplating enlisting.
Now, he stood at the edge of a war, beside men with powers he couldn't explain.
He turned to Grim, curiosity burning.
"That power of yours—the eye… were you born with it?"
Grim smirked as they walked through the snow.
"A bit of both.
No one is born with talent. We carve it into ourselves—through pain, through loss.
Don't worry. You'll learn.
One of my men will train you. We've got twenty-four hours."
They came to a small, inconspicuous shop.
Herzl blinked.
"This is your base?"
"Yep. Get in."
Inside, the place looked like an old, run-down store—until Herzl saw the people waiting.
Nine figures sat around the room.
Seven men. Two women. Each one scarred, armed, and radiating danger.
One of the women raised an eyebrow.
"New kid, huh? Doesn't look like much."
A man scoffed.
"I don't see anything special in him."
Herzl ignored the comments, eyes calm, posture steady.
Grim stepped forward.
"I chose him. That's all that matters.
Anna—train him."
The woman scoffed.
"Now? We barely have time. Might be better off using him as a decoy."
Grim's tone turned sharp.
"Anna."
She sighed.
"Fine. Come on, kid. Let's head underground."
The basement was a wide stone chamber, dimly lit, with a training ring in the center.
Anna turned to him, cracking her knuckles.
"We're doing this now.
Hope you're ready. I don't go easy."
Herzl smirked.
"I don't back down from a duel.
Man or woman—it makes no difference."
"Good. Try to keep up."
The moment the fight began—Herzl was completely outmatched.
Anna moved like a ghost.
Too fast to follow.
Every strike landed cleanly—each one sending him stumbling.
Every time he swung, she was already gone.
It felt like fighting in a dream—like every movement he made was underwater.
He lunged—only to pass through empty air.
He tried to grab her—but his hands passed through her like mist.
"What are you?" he gasped.
She didn't answer. She just slammed him into the floor, hard enough to crack the stone.
She stood over him, arms crossed.
"Why are you even here? You knew you'd be outclassed.
Why bother?"
Herzl coughed, groaned—but stood up.
Blood dripped from his lip. His body ached.
But his eyes… burned.
"Because I want to be stronger.
No matter what I face—no matter what comes—
I will rise.
I will reign beneath the blue skies."
Anna paused. Her smug grin faded—just slightly.
For the first time, she saw resolve in him.
And she took him seriously.