Chapter 1: The Normal Days

On a vast and vibrant continent, nestled among rolling hills and lush forests, lies the kingdom of Eden—a land of peace and prosperity, home to a diverse array of races living in harmony.

The kingdom was founded by a group of extraordinary adventurers, bound not just by their shared destiny but by a deep, unbreakable bond forged in the fires of their childhood.

These adventurers, known as The Guardians, were led by a man whose name struck fear into the hearts of his enemies and admiration in the hearts of his people.

His name was Lito Lambert, the cunning and tactical king of Eden.

Lito, though a mere human, was no ordinary man—or at least, that's what the bards sang.

In reality, if you asked Lito himself, he'd shrug and say: "I'm basically a highly decorated piece of castle furniture with an attitude problem."

His brilliance lay not in physical strength or magical prowess, but in an unyielding stubbornness, a mind sharper than a goblin's debts, and an unmatched talent for survival.

Yet, beneath his confident exterior, Lito carried a secret burden—one that gnawed at him every day like a hungry rat.

He was a king who felt painfully undeserving of his crown.

A leader who believed he owed his success entirely to his absurdly overpowered friends.

In his heart, Lito thought of himself not as a hero—but as the guy who tagged along with heroes and somehow didn't die.

The Guardians were a group of six, each a legend in their own right:

- Gark, the towering Oni whose fists could knock out earthquakes.

- Luminos, the vampire healer who could knit flesh and soul back together with a whisper.

- Yune, the forest elf archer whose arrows had performance anxiety because they *never* missed.

- Nia, the fiery knight whose mere presence could trigger spontaneous sunburns.

- Truth, the iron dragon scientist who invented things faster than reality could protest.

- And Luna, the moon elf witch who founded Eden's prestigious Mage Academy because apparently ruling from the shadows was too boring.

They had all met Lito in an orphanage, back when they were just a gang of misfit kids getting bullied by future footnotes of history.

Back then, Lito had no powers, no talents, and no sense of self-preservation.

Yet he had stood up for them—over and over again—armed with nothing but a mouth that couldn't shut up and fists that couldn't throw a punch to save his life.

And somehow, by being the most stubborn, reckless idiot imaginable, he'd given them hope.

Now, as adults, they were the shining pillars of the kingdom—and Lito was their king.

A walking miracle.

Or, if you asked him, *"A glorified scarecrow duct-taped to a golden throne."*

To maintain the illusion, Lito had spent years scavenging magical artifacts from dusty dungeons.

Glowing rocks, cracked amulets, swords that looked impressive if you squinted hard enough.

Nothing truly powerful, of course.

But together they gave him the look of a seasoned king.

They even earned him a nickname: "The King of the Dregs."

A title he embraced with all the grim dignity of a jester wearing a paper crown.

---

The sun hung high over Eden as Lito slouched behind his fortress of paperwork.

Production quotas, tax reforms, expansion proposals, irrigation projects... it all blurred together in an endless, soul-draining sludge.

Lito sighed, dragging a hand through his mess of hair.

"Ah yes," he thought, "this is it. The battlefield where kings prove their worth—armed with ink pens and a slowly dying will to live."

After signing one last death warrant for his sanity, he shoved back from his desk.

"I need air," he muttered aloud. "Before I start hallucinating that the chairs are staging a rebellion."

He wandered out into the castle halls, boots echoing against the stone.

As he drifted aimlessly, his thoughts turned—as they always did—to his friends.

The Guardians.

The Real Ones.

Gark was out training the next generation of warriors.

Luminos was probably somewhere healing orphans with a single tear and a knowing smile.

Yune was conducting archery tournaments where blindfolded shots split arrows in midair.

Nia was running military drills so intense the soldiers probably aged a year every day.

Truth was inventing machines that would either revolutionize society or explode in spectacular fashion.

And Luna? Luna was expanding the Mage Academy, recruiting prodigies who could probably turn mountains into puddles.

Meanwhile, their beloved king?

"Ah yes, and me. Keeper of parchment. Breaker of pens. Slayer of coffee pots. Truly, a fearsome beast among men."

Lost in the self-pitying comedy of his own existence, Lito didn't notice the petite figure turning the corner until—

BAM!

He collided with her.

She stumbled back, yelping.

It was Luna, her silver hair sparkling under the sunlight filtering through the windows, her face adorably red.

"M-m-m-my lord, my apologies!" she stammered, bowing in a panic.

Lito caught her shoulders, steadying her with a laugh. "You're fine, Luna. It's my fault. Walking without thinking... classic leadership behavior."

Luna pouted, crossing her arms. "You're always reckless! You haven't changed one bit."

"Me? Reckless?" Lito gasped, mock-offended. "When you were little, you climbed a bookshelf and fell onto my face. I'm still emotionally scarred."

"You caught me!" Luna shot back with a teasing grin. "You're supposed to be proud!"

"Proud?" Lito clutched his chest dramatically. "I've been suffering from phantom bookshelf pains ever since."

Luna giggled.

It was a sweet sound.

The kind of sound that usually preceded Lito spiraling into another round of personal self-mockery.

"Look at her," he thought fondly. "Saving the world, founding schools, lighting up cities... Meanwhile, I'm over here winning the prestigious 'Best Paperweight' award."

"Shouldn't you be at the Mage Academy?" he asked, desperate to derail himself.

Luna brightened. "I'm on a special project! Truth and I are designing a new artifact to light up the entire city at night! It's going to be beautiful."

Lito nodded, genuinely happy for her.

And yet...

"Of course you are. And I'm over here getting winded from walking down a hallway."

Luna's smile faded a little. "Hey... what's wrong? You're not your usual annoying self."

Lito forced a crooked grin. "Nothing, really. Maybe the paperwork is finally turning me into a ghost."

"You're terrible at lying," Luna said flatly.

"And you're terrible at letting me escape awkward conversations," Lito countered, taking a few exaggerated steps backward. "Go back to inventing pretty lights. I'll go back to my kingdom of paperwork and existential dread."

Before she could reply, he turned and made his escape.

---

Back in his office, Lito slumped into his chair with the grace of a sack of potatoes.

He stared blankly at the mountains of reports.

"One day," he thought, "they're going to find my skeleton buried under all this paperwork, still clutching a broken quill."

He rubbed his temples, sighing so hard he practically deflated.

"I wish I could just run away," he muttered. "Find some tiny village where nobody knows my name. Open a noodle shop. Grow fat and happy. Maybe get into philosophical arguments with drunk customers about the meaning of life."

He chuckled bitterly at his own fantasy.

But he knew the truth.

He couldn't run.

Not because he was noble.

Not because he was brave.

Because he was too damn stubborn to quit on the people who still, somehow, believed in him.

"I'm nothing special," he thought. "Just a dumb kid who got lost and accidentally built a kingdom. But if they're gonna keep believing in me..."

He picked up his pen.

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep pretending I know what I'm doing."

Outside, the winds shifted.

Trouble stirred on the horizon.

And Lito Lambert—the reluctant, self-deprecating, wonderfully idiotic King of Eden—braced himself for whatever madness would come next.

Whether he deserved his crown or not.

To be continued...