The Holy Kingdom

Leon and The Crimson Vow walked through the grand city of Solmaria, taking in the breathtaking yet solemn atmosphere. The streets were filled with priests, warriors, and citizens whispering prayers, their faces marked with concern. The ringing of distant church bells echoed through the marble streets, their solemn tones adding to the weight of the moment. Banners embroidered with golden emblems fluttered in the breeze, depicting saints and divine warriors who had once fought in battles much like the one that now loomed over Solmaria.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the grand streets, they finally arrived at the castle. The towering structure gleamed under the morning sun, its white stone walls inlaid with intricate carvings of angelic figures. The massive double doors opened with a heavy groan as knights led them inside.

They were escorted into the grand hall, where they were greeted by four figures seated at an ornate table of marble and gold. King Raphael Solmarius sat at the head, his presence commanding yet warm. His golden hair and beard, streaked with silver, gave him the aura of a wise and experienced ruler. To his right sat Queen Evelynn, a regal woman with sharp blue eyes, clad in flowing robes of royal blue and silver. Next to her, Princess Seraphina sat upright, her long platinum hair cascading over her shoulders. She carried herself with elegance, yet her piercing gaze revealed a shrewd mind beneath her beauty. At the far end sat the Holy Sister, Lady Elara, draped in flowing white robes embroidered with golden thread. She had an air of serenity, yet the sharp intelligence in her eyes betrayed her awareness of the grim situation at hand.

The introductions began. King Raphael addressed them first, his deep voice resonating through the hall. "Welcome, warriors of Eldoria. I wish our meeting were under better circumstances, but we must speak of urgent matters. Please, introduce yourselves."

Darius stepped forward first, bowing his head slightly. "I am Darius, leader of The Crimson Vow. My comrades and I have come to aid Solmaria in its time of need."

One by one, the rest introduced themselves. Lyra gave a casual nod, Gaius thumped his chest in respect, Selene offered a slight bow, and Iris greeted them with a warm smile. Finally, Leon stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Leon Yuuki, summoned hero of Eldoria."

The air shifted slightly at his words. Seraphina's gaze lingered on him with great interest, while Lady Elara murmured something under her breath, as if offering a silent prayer.

Once pleasantries were exchanged, the mood darkened. King Raphael steepled his fingers and sighed. "Solmaria's situation is dire. Our armies are exhausted. The divine barrier protecting our city has weakened, and our outposts at the border have fallen one by one. Our enemy is relentless."

Queen Evelynn added, her voice calm but firm, "We have confirmed the identity of the demon commander leading this assault. It is a monster-class demon. Thank the gods it is not a humanoid one."

At this, Lady Elara crossed her chest in a solemn gesture. "A blessing indeed."

Leon furrowed his brow. "What's the difference?"

A brief silence followed before Lady Elara spoke. "Ordinary demons take the forms of beasts—twisted, grotesque, and monstrous in nature. They may resemble animals or abominations fused together. Dangerous, yes, but they are little more than savage creatures driven by instinct. Humanoid demons, however, are an entirely different kind of threat."

She continued, "They are the noble class of the demon race. Intelligent, cunning, and vastly more powerful than their beastly kin. While a standard demon might pose a challenge to an experienced soldier, a humanoid demon can match or surpass even an elite warrior. They are ranked as A and, in some cases, S-class threats. Only the strongest of warriors can even hope to stand against them."

She hesitated before delivering the final truth. "The Demon Lord is one of them. But unlike the others, the Demon Lord's strength is beyond comprehension, surpassing even the greatest of warrior's—save for one exception."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "And that would be?"

"The Hero," Lady Elara said, fixing her gaze upon him. "A hero is the only force capable of standing against the Demon Lord. You, Leon, are one of those chosen. A hero is either born into this world or summoned from another. Summoned heroes often bear unique gifts, abilities that set them apart from even the strongest warriors of this realm. Some possess unmatched strength, others wield magic unseen by mortals."

Leon felt the weight of their expectations pressing upon him, but he said nothing.

With the explanation concluded, King Raphael straightened in his seat. "For now, rest. You have travelled far, and tomorrow, you will stand beside our forces on the battlefield. May the gods watch over you."

With that, they were dismissed, and a maid escorted them to their rooms. However, when she reached Leon and his companion, her expression turned cold. "Slaves do not require a separate room."

Leon clenched his fists but said nothing. Now was not the time to let his fury consume him. Without a word, he entered the room alongside the girl, forcing himself to take slow, steady breaths.

Tomorrow, the war would continue.

Leon stepped into the dimly lit room, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his anger in check. The door closed behind him with a dull thud, sealing the two of them inside. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair before sitting down on the edge of the bed. His fingers dug into the mattress as he tried to push down the frustration roiling in his chest. His mind was clouded with thoughts, emotions he struggled to put into words.

For a while, he said nothing. His gaze, however, remained fixed on the girl. She stood near the door, silent as always, her posture relaxed yet distant. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across her face, highlighting the lifelessness in her golden-brown eyes. She didn't shift uncomfortably under his stare, didn't flinch. It was as though she had long since stopped caring about how others looked at her.

Finally, Leon spoke. "What's your name?"

The girl blinked, as if the question was foreign to her. A few seconds passed before she answered, her voice quiet and devoid of emotion. "Sylva."

Just that. No last name, no elaboration. A single word, given without attachment.

Leon frowned slightly but didn't press her for more. Instead, he asked something that had been gnawing at him since their arrival. "How can you let them treat you like this? Like you're worth nothing?"

The room was swallowed by silence. An uncomfortable, suffocating silence. The air between them felt heavy, thick with an unspoken weight.

Sylva didn't respond at first. She simply stood there, her expression unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.

"Because in this world, I am worth nothing."

Her voice held no bitterness, no sadness—just cold acceptance. "The strong rule, and the weak obey. That is how it has always been. I was just unfortunate enough to be born as the latter."

Leon stiffened. The way she spoke, so empty, so final, sent a chill through him. There was no anger in her words, no resentment toward those who had wronged her. It was as if she had long since accepted her fate, as if she had surrendered to a world that had never once shown her kindness.

He wanted to refute her words, to tell her she wasn't worthless, but he stopped himself. Would that even mean anything to her? Someone who had spent years being treated as nothing more than property? Could a few words from him really undo all of that?

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the fabric of the bed. "What happened to you?" he murmured, his voice so low it was barely audible, a question not meant to be heard.

But she heard it.

She heard it, and yet she did not answer. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face, but something in the air shifted—an almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere between them.

Leon didn't push. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Instead, she turned the question back on him. "Why does it bother you? My condition, the way people treat me—why does it make you angry?"

Leon let out a bitter chuckle and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Because I still see you as a human being," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "And it hurts to see another human treated like they're nothing but trash."

Sylva's expression remained unreadable, but for the first time—just for a fleeting moment—her eyes glinted with something else.

A faint, fragile spark of happiness.

The flicker was gone as quickly as it had come, buried beneath years of pain and disillusionment. But Leon had seen it, and somehow, that small moment made everything feel just a little less bleak.

Sylva turned away, moving toward the farthest corner of the room, sitting down without a word. Leon didn't know if she believed his words, if she even cared. But as he lay back, staring at the flickering candlelight on the ceiling, he made a silent vow.

One day, he would see that glint of happiness again.

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, the members of The Crimson Vow gathered in a dimly lit chamber, their expressions grim. They sat around a wooden table, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging over them like a storm cloud. A single candle flickered in the center, casting long, wavering shadows across their faces. No one spoke for a long moment.

Darius finally leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "We need to talk about Leon."

Everyone's attention sharpened at his words.

"He's different," Gaius muttered, crossing his arms. "We all saw what he did the first day he was summoned. Killing a demon commander that fast—no normal person could do that."

"And that wasn't just luck," Lyra added. "I tried looking into that sword of his. No records, no legends, nothing. It's like it doesn't exist."

Selene, the sorceress, sighed. "It's not just the sword. Haven't you noticed? It reacts to his emotions. The angrier he gets, the stronger it becomes."

A heavy silence fell over the room as they processed her words. The idea of a weapon that could be fueled by raw emotion was unsettling. The implications were even worse.

It was Iris who finally broke the silence. "Then there's the girl."

They all turned to her.

Iris hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "She now influences him. Whether he realizes it or not, his emotions are tied to her. If something happens to her on the battlefield… if she dies—"

"Leon will break," Darius finished grimly.

Iris swallowed. "He's already unstable. He might crack sooner or later. And when he does…"

The room went quiet again, but this time, the air felt heavier, as if the realization had settled deep into their bones. They all understood the implications.

Selene broke the silence next. "You remember what the Holy Sister said? Summoned heroes have unique skills. That finally makes sense now."

She turned her gaze toward the others. "I once read about ancient weapons tied to what they called 'taboo skills.' They weren't just blades or artifacts. They had wills of their own, shaped by the skill of their wielder."

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Wills of their own? That's… disturbing. Are you saying that sword is alive?"

Gaius exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Are you saying that sword is one of them? That it's acting on Leon's will? Or worse—on its own?"

Darius nodded slowly. "It's possible. And if that's the case… then we need to know exactly what he's capable of. If he loses control—"

Lyra stood up, her sharp eyes glinting in the candlelight. "I'll dig deeper. I'll start with the archives here in Solmaria, see if there's anything remotely close to a match. But after I get some rest."

Darius gave her a firm nod, then turned to the rest of the group. "We all need to rest. We face the demons tomorrow. We can't afford distractions."

As the meeting ended and everyone dispersed, Iris lingered in her bed, staring at a flickering candle. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Leon.

Was he really okay?

He had been forced into this world, nearly killed in his first battle, and now he was expected to wield a power even he didn't understand. And on top of it all, he was supposed to use a girl—a child—as a tool in war.

She felt a pang of guilt. They had betrayed his trust by staying silent when the king handed Sylva over. They had done nothing to stand by him when it mattered most. They had allowed him to bear everything alone.

If he broke, would he even allow them to stand beside him then?

Iris sighed heavily, lying back in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

If only she were strong like him… maybe then she could have done something different.

Her fingers curled into her blanket as frustration twisted in her chest. No, she thought. If she wanted to help him, she couldn't afford to dwell on what she hadn't done. She had to focus on what she still could do.

With that thought lingering in her mind, she closed her eyes and drifted into restless sleep, her heart heavy with unresolved doubts.