The air was thick with the smell of power in the great hall. The nobles, kneeling, remained at attention, waiting for Aric's orders. Montclair's defeat had delivered a clear message—resist Aric, and be destroyed.
Before he could even speak, though, the presence of the System returned—bigger, more oppressive, heavier than ever.
A wave of non-corporeal energy swamped him.
[ Your victory has started, but your reign is in tatters. ]
[ Will you be a puppeteer at best? Or will you become something more? ]
Aric's victory widened in outraged incredulity.
The System had watched, tested him, teased him into action. Each time it had extended its mastery, there had been a hidden price to pay.
And now it came back.
With something considerably worse.
------
New Challenge: The Monarch's Ascension
A shiver went down Aric's spine.
[ A king does not sit alone upon a throne of shadows. ]
[ You have broken Montclair. Now, claim his legacy—or forfeit it all. ]
His head was stormed by a cascade of information.
Montclair's wealth. His clandestine coalitions. His web of spies. His adversaries, on the brink of his initial stumbling stride.
[ You have 48 hours to establish your rule. ]
[ You fail, and the nobles turn against you. ]
Aric exhaled slowly.
The System wasn't leaving him any other option.
This was his true test.
Not the fall of Montclair.
The nobles were still on their knees in front of him, but the silence was a calculated one.
They had bent the knee out of fear—but fear alone wouldn't be enough to maintain power.
Some of them would probe him.
Some would betray him.
And some would try to manipulate him.
Aric pushed forward, voice cutting, authoritative.
"Old order is dead," he commanded. "Montclair is fallen. And in his place, I shall create something greater."
Eyes narrowed with suspicion.
The balance hung in the balance.
One misstep, and all came crashing down.
He needed a symbol. A proclamation. An execution.
Aric's eyes fell on one of Montclair's last remaining friends—Lord Varent, a tired old noble who had been muttering in back rooms of court.
"Varent," Aric said, voice teetering on the edge of low.
The man froze. "Y-yes, my lord?"
"You were with Montclair," Aric went on. "Do you still oppose me?"
Varent delayed—too long.
That was all Aric required as an answer.
He uplifted his hand.
[ Activate Sovereign's Brand? ]
The decision came naturally. Yes.
A tide of power swept the room as Varent gasped, his body stiffening into position. His pupils expanded, his breath suspended—his very will shattered under Aric's control.
A heartbeat later, he bowed.
"I am yours, my lord," Varent breathed, his voice little more than a rasp. "Utterly."
A murmur circulated through the court. Fear. Uncertainty. Awe.
Aric smiled.
It wasn't all about power.
It was about demonstrating the futility of rebellion.
-------
[ Problem one solved. Problem two to go. ]
The System's voice echoed in his head.
Aric knew what needed to be done.
He had 48 hours.
He had a whole court to shatter.
And this time, there would be no mercy.