"In a world where crown and heart intertwine, ego is a blazing fire, shaking the throne and subduing the empire"
Tavon inhaled sharply before stepping forward, his hands clasped behind his back. With a single stomp of his armoured boot against the marble floor, the sharp sound cut through the air, silencing the murmurs and drawing all attention to him.
"The meeting will commence," he announced, his steady voice reverberating through the vast chamber. "Your Majesty, I will now deliver the latest report on Midgaria's situation with your permission."
Tavon straightened his posture. "The Abyssal Gate is growing increasingly unstable. In the past three months alone, at least fifteen new gates have opened, including one at the border of Savaranth and Tirnaval, which nearly wiped out an entire Beast tribe village. So far, all efforts to seal them have failed—some are even guarded by the 13 Oaths of Ruin."
The room was instantly filled with hushed whispers that quickly escalated into a commotion. Some nobles looked panicked, while others gripped the arms of their chairs, their faces tense with apprehension.
"13 Oaths of Ruin..." a Hierophant whispered, his voice barely more than a prayer laced with fear.
It was a natural reaction—who in this room didn't know of the thirteen generals who ruled over the Abyss? They were the Demon King's right hands, the harbingers of destruction, entities that brought nothing but calamity wherever they went. Each of them possessed enough power to rival an entire nation. They weren't just strong; they were intelligent, battle-hardened, and unbound by the laws of this world.
No Astral Voyager had ever won against them.
Some were strong enough to last longer than others. A few could even match them in brief skirmishes. But in the end, the outcome was always the same—defeat.
"If they've begun guarding the Abyssal Gates..." a general's voice was heavy with dread, "then that means we are no longer dealing with mere monsters. They are waiting for us. Challenging us to come."
The Grandpa tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne, silencing the room without uttering a word.
"What has the expedition team reported about the Abyssal Gate?" he asked, his voice calm. However, his eyes gleamed with sharp intensity.
A general from a battalion different from Tavon rose to his feet. He was short, characteristic of the dwarven race, and though he tried to maintain his composure, fear was plainly etched onto his face. His neatly braided silver beard trembled slightly as his fists clenched at his sides.
"Your Majesty..." His voice was deep, but the unsteadiness in it was unmistakable. "We... lost contact with the last expedition team."
Silence fell upon the room.
"What do you mean, General Krim?" Tavon asked, his voice remaining calm though his eyes narrowed sharply.
General Krim swallowed hard before stepping forward. With trembling hands, he pulled out a communication crystal from his belt—an artefact used to connect troops on the battlefield. A faint glow still flickered on its surface, indicating that the last recorded message remained within.
Grandpa shot him a piercing look. "Play the last recording."
General Krim nodded and pressed his fingers against the crystal's surface. A bluish light shot out, forming a magical projection. Static crackled, interwoven with the sound of ragged breathing.
— "We found someone..."
The voice was rushed, filled with panic.
— "They can... they can erase our Arcana Codex pages! This... this isn't possible, is it? No Abyssian should be able to—"
Then, another voice emerged.
Not Abyssian.
Not from the expedition team.
A low whisper reverberated with an eerie echo that sent a chill down the spine.
— "You... belong to us."
Then came the scream.
A piercing, agonized wail—one belonging to an Astral Voyager who realized, far too late, that they had walked into a trap.
— "P-Please, send help! It's a trap! It's—AARRGH—"
The recording cut off.
The communication crystal dimmed, leaving behind a silence far heavier than before.
I froze.
My ears were still ringing, my heart pounding violently, yet the world around me suddenly blurred. I knew that voice... too well.
"Aster..." I whispered unconsciously.
My right hand clenched the table's edge, gripping it tightly to steady myself as a sudden weakness washed over me. I lowered my head, letting my bangs partially cover my widened eyes.
Aster... Impossible.
He was one of the Astral Voyagers summoned a year ago. The one who had saved me when I was nearly killed in Orindar. He was the one who always spoke with unwavering conviction—that one day, this world could be free from the Abyssians.
He was my friend.
One of the few who saw me as an equal.
My lips parted, but my voice caught in my throat. I couldn't accept this.
I just couldn't.
Tavon let out a heavy sigh before turning to Grandpa. "Your Majesty, we must assume that the expedition team has—"
"No!"
The word escaped before I could think.
Every head in the room snapped toward me.
I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure, but it was useless. "Aster and the others… They might not be dead. We have to send a rescue team!"
I turned to Grandpa, clinging to the hope that he would agree. But before he could respond, another voice cut through the air.
"Nonsense!"
I whipped my head toward the speaker.
Dorian Aeneas, the Marquis of Solaraine, had risen from his seat. His jaw was clenched, his narrowed eyes burning with fury.
"Think before you speak, Prince Elenio!" he snapped.
I stiffened but held my ground.
"Instead of wasting our forces to rescue a group that may already be dead," he continued, irritation clear in his tone, "we should be focusing on the fifteen Abyssal Gates that remain open! Every second we waste could lead to the destruction of more territories!"
"But we don't know if they're really dead!" I shot back, my voice firm. "They could still be out there, holding on! We can't just abandon them—"
"And how many more lives must be lost to search for them?!"
I fell silent.
"We've already lost too many Astral Voyagers!" Dorian pressed on, his voice laced with frustration. "Too many! They were summoned to fight the Abyssians, yet barely any survive beyond a year! And now you want to sacrifice even more soldiers for a squad that may have already been consumed by the Abyss?! That's absurd!"
I clenched my fists tightly. "We have to try," I said, struggling to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Dorian merely scoffed. "That's the problem, Your Highness," he said, gazing at Grandpa. "Your Crown Prince doesn't understand reality."
Silence fell over the room once more.
I turned to Grandpa.
He leaned back in his chair, the usual glint of amusement in his eyes replaced by exhaustion. His fingers tapped against the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm—a sign that he was deep in thought.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
What will he decide?
Grandpa let out a quiet sigh before shifting his gaze to the Hierophant seated on the other side of the table. "Does the Temple know an Abyssian capable of erasing pages from someone's Arcana Codex?"
The room remained eerily still. The high priests exchanged hesitant glances, uncertainty flickering in their eyes. Then, before the Hierophant could respond, another voice rose from the far end of the table.
"I will answer that, Your Majesty."
I turned.
Uncle Arcanis.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His sharp blue eyes locked onto Grandpa's with unwavering intensity. "As far as we know, the Arcana Codex is an absolute law that binds both magic and soul. It cannot be altered."
He paused, letting his words sink into the minds of everyone present.
"If something is capable of changing or erasing a page from someone's Codex," he continued, his voice dropping into a graver tone, "then whatever they encountered was incredibly dangerous."
My stomach twisted.
I saw Grandpa nod slowly before sweeping his gaze across the room. His eyes were filled with exhaustion but also with undeniable resolve.
"We will prioritize the fifteen Abyssal Gates."
In an instant, my blood ran cold.
I froze. "Wait…"
I took a step forward, trying to process his words. "So… we're not sending a rescue team?"
Grandpa looked at me.
His golden eyes held something I couldn't quite decipher—not anger, not disappointment, but something far more piercing.
"No."
The world crumbled around me.
I clenched my fists. "But… they could still be alive! We can't just abandon them—!"
"Nio."
Grandpa's voice was gentler this time but no less firm. "We cannot risk more casualties."
"But it's Aster—" My voice broke mid-sentence.
Before I could say another word, a deep, guttural voice rumbled through the room, echoing like the growl of a beast.
"We've wasted enough time here."
I turned toward the source of the voice.
A towering figure rose from his seat, standing head and shoulders above everyone in the room.
Thalgar Wildfang, Duke of Savaranth.
His body was massive, packed with corded muscles that surpassed any ordinary human. His dark brown fur was streaked with black markings, and though his face still bore human features, a short muzzle and protruding fangs made his beastly nature undeniable. His golden-yellow eyes locked onto me, radiating impatience and disdain.
"Only a naïve child who knows nothing of war would think we can waste soldiers on a few people who are likely already dead."
My entire body tensed.
"Thalgar is right," another voice followed. Dorian Aeneas leaned back in his chair, watching me as if I were nothing more than an insignificant nuisance in this meeting. "Your Highness, with all due respect, you must stop being childish."
"We are dealing with fifteen active Abyssal Gates!" Thalgar snarled, his voice booming across the chamber. "One of them is in my territory! Even now, one of the Oaths of Ruin is there—on my land! Threatening my people!"
Several nobles nodded in agreement, their eyes reflecting Thalgar's sentiments.
"And you want us to waste time saving a few people who might already be dead?" he continued. "How many more lives are you willing to sacrifice, huh?"
I clenched my fists even tighter.
"They might still be alive! They need us!"
Dorian exhaled sharply, his voice tinged with boredom. "And if they're already dead?" His gaze pierced through me. "Would you still insist on sending troops just because you refuse to accept reality?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but Thalgar cut in first.
"Do you think soldiers' lives are toys?!" he roared. "If you want to save them so badly, why don't you go there yourself?!"
I froze.
Dorian chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous, Duke. We all know the Crown Prince can't do that."
I could feel their gazes stabbing into me like invisible blades. Every pair of eyes in this room stripped me bare, searching for the weaknesses they could exploit. I knew—I had always known—that I was unwanted here. A crown prince with no magic, strength to fight, or courage to kill our enemies. And now, with my plea sounding like nothing more than a stubborn child's desperate whining, they finally had the excuse to voice what had only been whispered behind the empire's walls.
Dorian's eyes swept over me from head to toe, filled with quiet judgment.
"The Crown Prince can't even use his Arcana Codex, can he?" His voice was light, almost amused, but I knew better. This wasn't just idle talk. It was a deliberate jab, an insult calculated to hit its mark. I could hear faint murmurs ripple through the throne room, some nobles making no effort to hide their scoffs. A few even chuckled.
More whispers followed, slithering like venomous snakes through the air.
"No magic…"
"…And not a fighter either…"
The words cut deeper than they should have. I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to suppress the storm of emotions within me, but it was useless. I wanted to shout, to fight back, to tell them I wouldn't let Aster die, that I wouldn't stand by while they sat comfortably on their thrones, sacrificing more lives for what they deemed a greater cause. But before I could open my mouth, a voice far more dangerous filled the room.
"It seems you're all so eager to place your necks on the guillotine."
Grandpa's golden eyes locked onto Dorian and Thalgar, sharp as a blade honed to perfection. There was usually warmth in those eyes, a hint of humour even in the gravest of moments—but not now. What I saw in them now was cold, glacial fury, the kind that felt like a sword forged in eternal fire. He didn't need to raise his voice or slam his fists against the table to make everyone in the room realize they had overstepped.
In an instant, the air around us shifted.
Slowly, a thick, ancient tome materialized in the air—his Arcanis Codex, glowing with a light so intense it cast long shadows against the marble walls. A crushing magical pressure filled the room, pressing down on my chest and stealing the breath from my lungs. It felt like I had been plunged into the ocean's depths.
Grandpa hadn't lifted a finger, yet the entire room had transformed. The nobles who had laughed so boldly at my expense just moments ago were now frozen where they sat, their bodies rigid like strings pulled too tight. Dorian, who had been so smug moments before, looked stricken. At the same time, Thalgar—the towering, beast-like Duke of Savaranth—let out a low, warning growl, the fur along his arms bristling as his claws dug into the wooden table, poised to defend himself from an unseen threat.
"You just…" Grandpa leaned back slightly in his seat, his voice still calm, making it more terrifying. "Insulted my grandson… in front of me?"
Dorian opened his mouth, perhaps to offer some excuse. Still, the pressure in the room multiplied before he could utter a word. Then, in the blink of an eye, his body was yanked from his chair by an invisible force and hurled backwards with bone-crushing speed. He crashed into a stone pillar at the far end of the chamber, the impact ringing through the hall like a thunderclap. The floor trembled from the force of it, and several people flinched.
Dorian collapsed onto the ground, coughing, gasping for breath.
Grandpa remained seated, his face utterly impassive, not a trace of emotion betraying his actions. With the barest movement of his hand, a sword of golden energy materialized in the air beside Dorian, its radiant glow illuminating the intricate engravings along the blade. And in a swift motion, almost imperceptible, the tip of the sword came to rest just beneath Dorian's throat.
No one dared to move.
I could hear someone holding their breath in the corner of the room.
Dorian stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock. It was too fast. No one had time to react, not even Thalgar, who possessed the instincts of a predator—he seemed uncertain whether to act or remain still. If one wrong move were made, the Marquis's head would be separated from his body.
"Y-Your Majesty…" Dorian's voice trembled.
Thalgar tensed but remained silent. Everyone held their breath as if trying to grasp whether they had just witnessed the end of a Marquis's life.
But before that fate could unfold, another voice broke the suffocating tension.
"Your Majesty."
I turned to see Tavon, the captain of the imperial guard, stepping forward. He knelt with his head slightly bowed, yet his voice carried unwavering firmness. His gaze remained as sharp and cold as ever, betraying no hint of fear despite standing so close to the enraged Grandpa.
"We need the nobles' strength for this war," he said calmly. "Executing a Marquis in the middle of an official meeting… would not be wise."
Grandpa did not move.
For a few tense seconds, no one dared to speak.
The air remained heavy as if the entire room could collapse. Then, slowly, his Arcana Codex began to fade.
I heard Dorian exhale shakily, still collapsed on the floor, his face paler than before.
Grandpa leaned back into his seat, but his gaze remained sharp, brimming with the danger that only a man who had spent his life on the battlefield could possess. "And who do you think you are," he said, his voice low and trembling with menace, "to dare insult the imperial family? I swear, if such disgraceful words leave your mouths again, I will ensure that your necks rest beneath the blade of the guillotine."
Silence.
No one dared to respond.
I lowered my head slightly, trying to steady my breathing.
It was rare to see Grandpa this furious.
The tension in the air still lingered as if even the wind hesitated to move freely after his outburst. The nobles remained in their places, some still struggling to catch their breath after witnessing what had nearly become an execution. But this was not the time to dwell in fear.
With a heavy sigh, one of the temple's members finally spoke, attempting to bring the meeting back on track.
A Hierophant standing at the long table stepped forward. His tall frame was cloaked in white and gold robes embroidered with sacred runes that glowed faintly. His hood obscured most of his face, but the furrow of his brow and the sharp lines around his mouth betrayed his barely restrained impatience. This was Hierophant Marcellius Nohr, one of the highest elders of the Solaris Temple, tasked with overseeing sacred rituals and maintaining the delicate balance between the temple and the empire.
His voice was deep and weighted when he finally spoke.
"My respects, Your Majesty. There is another issue concerning the Crown Prince and the continuation of the summoning ritual."
Grandpa turned his gaze toward him, waiting for him to continue.
"Some members of the imperial family have refused to offer their Mana sacrifices."
Silence once more.
But this time, the tension did not stem from Grandpa's wrath—it came from a truth that had been carefully kept hidden until now. I sharpened my focus, straining to catch every word before anyone could respond.
"Refused?" Grandpa finally spoke, his voice dangerously neutral.
Marcellus nodded slowly. "Yes, Your Majesty. The princes and princesses feel… that it is unfair."
The Hierophant sighed before finally revealing the true heart of the matter.
"They question why they must risk their lives and their Mana for the same ritual, while the Crown Prince himself does not make an equal sacrifice."
My heart stopped for a moment.
I could feel every gaze in the room shift toward me again. Not with the blatant disdain that Dorian had spat out earlier, but with questioning eyes—as if they had only now realized a flaw they had overlooked.
I swallowed hard.
Of course… this was not surprising.
"They are right!" A portly old man with golden curls and a thick moustache raised his hand and stood from his seat, his round belly making the motion slightly awkward. "Your Majesty, I cannot allow my grandson to suffer such injustice!"
"Viscount Dregg, do you have something to add?" Tavon gestured for the man to continue.
"My grandson is lying in the temple's medical ward, critically injured from Arcana Codex Erosion after expending too much Mana," the man said, his face red with anger. His moustache quivered with every word, his large belly shaking with his frustrated gestures.
Seated beside Grandpa, I lowered my head slightly.
A strange, unpleasant feeling had settled in my chest since the beginning of this meeting, growing worse with every passing moment. I glanced at Grandpa beside me—his face was composed, but I could see the restrained fury beneath the surface.
Cautiously, I whispered, ensuring only he could hear.
"Grandpa," I asked in a hushed voice, "who exactly is that Viscount?"
Grandpa turned his gaze toward me, studying my face before answering in a near-silent tone.
"Cedric Dregg… He is not originally from Midgaria. He is an Astral Voyager who arrived with his wife and child thirteen years ago. After successfully resolving the eastern province's food crisis during the war, I granted him the title of Viscount—and married his daughter."
My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets for two reasons: first, that the Viscount was an Astral Voyager and second, Grandpa's casual admission that he had married the man's daughter.
I gaped at him, my mouth slightly open. "Wait a minute…" I said, struggling to process his words. "What did you just say? Married his daughter?"
Grandpa merely gave a small nod as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Yes. His daughter was beautiful, intelligent, and—"
"But, Grandpa!" I hissed, my eyes darting toward Viscount Dregg, still speaking heatedly in the centre of the room. "Doesn't that mean… that Viscount is your father-in-law?"
Grandpa arched a brow as if considering it for the first time. "Ah. Yes, technically, he is. I suppose I forgot to mention that."
"Forgot?" I nearly jumped from my seat but forced myself to stay still. "Grandpa, that's not something you just forget! Look at him now—your father-in-law demands justice in a tone that practically threatens me!"
Grandpa chuckled under his breath, his smile almost amused. "Well, I suppose that's understandable. His wife passed away a few years ago, his only daughter was taken into the palace as a consort, and now his only grandchild is on the verge of death due to Arcane Erosion."
I stared at my Grandpa, my eyes filled with anger and confusion. "I suppose Viscount Dregg's outburst—his emotional explosion in the middle of the meeting—stems from the fact that you've mercilessly exploited the only family he has left?"
Grandpa tilted his head as if considering my words. "That is one way to look at it," he said, his tone almost too light. "However, I prefer to call it... strategy. Everything he possesses now, including his title, is thanks to the empire. It is his responsibility to return the favour."
I nearly exploded at those words. "Return the favour?" I hissed. "His grandchild is your own blood! A living, breathing person! You can't treat people like chess pieces!"
Grandpa met my gaze, his expression turning more serious. "Elenio, this world does not care about ideals. Only actions that bring results are respected. This empire would have crumbled long ago if I had not made difficult decisions. Do you understand?"
I wanted to argue, but before I could say anything, the massive doors creaking open interrupted us. We both turned in unison, just in time to see Viscount Dregg storming back inside, still throwing heated arguments, his face red with rage. Yet, somehow, his eyes held something else—desperation.
I let out a long sigh, trying to calm myself, but one more thing pushed my frustration over the edge. "And, are you so deprived of companionship that every woman you meet must end up in your harem?"
Grandpa chuckled, louder this time, his voice low yet full of amusement. "Ever heard the saying, 'Every woman has a secret'?"
I frowned. "And what exactly does that have to do with your harem, Grandpa?"
His smile widened, making me shudder. "The more mysterious a woman's secret, the more intriguing it is to uncover. My hobby is collecting those hidden mysteries—" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "—and unravelling them, piece by piece. You could say it's an art within an art, Elenio."
I massaged my temples. "So, your harem is more like… a secret gallery?"
Grandpa let out a satisfied laugh. "You could call it that. Every woman there has a secret, and I—as both a Grandpa and a connoisseur of mysteries—keep and protect them."
I stared at him in disbelief. "Grandpa, you make your harem sound like a hidden library, and you are its keeper."
He nodded proudly. "A beautiful analogy, isn't it? You truly are my brilliant grandson."
I looked at him, torn between laughing and crying. "Grandpa, I'm not even sure I want to live long enough to start understanding your thoughts."
"You will, one day," he said, patting my shoulder. "For now, just focus on your duties. Oh, and don't forget—Cedric is a good man. He's only too emotional because of his wife's passing. He'll forgive you if you just smile and look innocent."
I shot him a doubtful look. "The last time I followed your advice, I got kidnapped by a noble family that opposed you, Grandpa."
Grandpa chuckled, his voice light yet full of mischief. "Ah, that was an unfortunate incident. But look at the bright side, Elenio. You learned how to escape from a dungeon without anyone's help. That's a skill not every prince has."
I stared at him blankly, struggling to suppress my frustration. "Grandpa, I barely ate for three days. And I was nearly eaten by their pet wolf!"
"Oh, yes," he said with a nod. "The wolf was part of their strategy to intimidate you. I heard you managed to calm it down with a piece of stale bread. That was a very clever move."
"Focus on the matter at hand, Grandpa," I huffed. "You always have a way of steering the conversation elsewhere."
Grandpa chuckled at my remark, lingering amusement until another voice boomed through the room.
"I just want justice for my grandson."
The Astral Voyager named Cedric fixed the Grandpa with a piercing glare as if he wished to bore a hole through his skull with sheer intensity alone.
His words made both of us turn toward him, momentarily halting our conversation. But before anyone could speak, another sharp noise shattered the tense silence.
Brakk!!
The sound of a table being slammed made everyone flinch.
"Tch," Finnian clicked his tongue in annoyance, his expression dark and ready to explode. "Yet another old man doting on his grandson."
Unlike his usual composed stance, Finnian had his foot propped up on the table. I would bet anything that the loud sound just now had come from him kicking the furniture.
Beside him, a familiar girl tugged lightly at the edge of his sleeve, trying to rein in his arrogance. Zura. It wasn't surprising—she was the vice-captain of the same battalion as Finnian, as evident from the vibrant green of their cloaks, matching the colour of Finnian's sharp eyes.
"Listen up, old man!" Finnian sneered. "Your grandson is part of the imperial family. He enjoys the privileges and status that come with it. Consider his current predicament as nothing more than payment for everything he's been given."
"At least your grandson has something he can do to contribute to this crisis," he added sharply.
I knew those words were meant as a direct jab at me—the one member of the imperial family who could contribute nothing. Even in Mana reserves, I was a decorative figure standing beside Grandpa. At the same time, my cousins risked their lives to supply the Mana needed.
"Aside from that ridiculous 'payment' logic, I agree with Prince Finnian," Cedric said coldly, his fiery gaze now directed at me. "What will the Crown Prince do to contribute to this crisis?"
I froze, unable to find my voice. At this moment, no matter what I said, it would only fuel their anger. Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to drill a hole through the old man sitting beside me for making everything worse with his decision to marry the daughter of an Astral Voyager.
Cedric continued to stare me down, his eyes burning like twin embers. Under his gaze, it felt as though even the palace's stone walls could melt. The nobles present all turned their eyes toward me, waiting—no, expecting—some kind of miracle from me.
Meanwhile, my Grandpa's expression turned pensive as if calculating a way out of this mess.
I took a deep breath, desperately searching for the right words.
How could I deny the truth? I had no power. No significance.
I was nothing more than the shadow of the imperial family—a crippled Crown Prince with nothing of value to offer.
"I... I will do my best to support all of you," I finally said, though my voice sounded weaker than I had hoped. "I will find a way to help resolve this crisis."
Viscount Dregg scoffed in disdain. "Empty words!" he snapped. "We need action, not meaningless promises!"
"I-I u-understand," I stammered, trying to keep my composure despite the storm raging in my chest. "I will find a way to contribute. I swear it."
The tension in the room thickened, pressing down on me from every direction. I could feel the weight of their expectations, their disappointment. But beneath all that, I knew—this was the moment I had to change. I had to find a way to prove myself, to show that I was worthy of being the crown prince and not just an empty figurehead. At the very least, I had to ensure the people did not question Grandpa's decision.
"Of all our victories, many of the strategies behind them were devised by the Crown Prince," Tavon spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the air. "The Crown Prince has also played a crucial role in handling the food crisis that plagued several regions over the past two years."
"A Crown Prince has to fight on the battlefield alongside the emperor to protect this empire!" another noble interjected. "Not to act as some kind of war scholar or farmer!"
The room grew even more heated. Tavon, the battalion commander and Grandpa's loyal guardian, had tried to defend me. Still, his words only sparked further outrage among the nobles. Several of them nodded in agreement, reinforcing the idea that my place should be on the battlefield, not behind a desk with maps and books.
"Have you all forgotten who saved your cities from ruin?" Tavon continued firmly. "The Crown Prince has made significant contributions to the survival of this empire, even if not with a sword in hand."
But Cedric and the others refused to listen. "This empire does not need a crown prince who only knows how to think!" another noble bellowed, his anger palpable. "We need a leader who will stand at the front lines and set an example for our soldiers!"
A storm of emotions swirled within me—anger, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. They had no idea how heavy this burden was, how suffocating it felt to carry the weight of an empire while being scorned at every turn. I had never wished to be born this way. I wanted to fight on the battlefield, to wield my sword with the same courage as my siblings and ancestors.
"Enough!" Grandpa's voice finally rang out, silencing the room instantly. All eyes turned to my Grandpa, who now stood, exuding an undeniable aura of authority. "The Crown Prince has already proven himself in many ways. Everyone has a role to play in protecting this empire. Not all battles are fought with swords. Without strategy, without solutions to our domestic crises, we would not survive."
"Even so, it still doesn't compare to his siblings, who risk their lives on the battlefield!" Dorias spoke up again as if unfazed by Grandpa's earlier reprimand.
The tension in the council chamber grew even more suffocating. Grandpa rubbed his temples, visibly exasperated. My mind raced, desperately searching for a way to mediate the conflict—perhaps, if I was lucky, I could also use this opportunity to prove myself. But before I could open my mouth to speak, Uncle Arcanis broke the silence.
"If you're so adamant about the Crown Prince contributing on the field..." The long-haired man removed his fogged-up glasses, wiping away the sweat clinging to the lenses. "Then I propose that the Crown Prince be included in the next Astral Voyager assault expedition."
Uncle Arcanist's words sucked the air out of the room. Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Grandpa's eyes widened in fury, his jaw clenched so tightly I could almost hear his teeth grinding. But somehow, he held himself back, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Every gaze was now locked onto Uncle Arcanist. And how could they not be? He had just suggested sending me—someone without an Arcana Codex—onto the battlefield. That wasn't just reckless; it was a death sentence.
I could feel the nobles' stares shifting to me, waiting for a response. But no words came. My throat felt tight as if any attempt to speak would choke me instead. My silence only made things worse. The whispers started again, quiet but sharp enough to cut. Even though they tried to be discreet, I heard every single word. And each one stung.