Chapter 13: The Weight of a King

The night air was crisp and cool, the wind whispering through the trees outside the cabin. The battle with the troll had left Leonidas exhausted, but even after tending to his wounds, he couldn't sleep.

Something was stirring inside him.

Lying on his bed, staring at the wooden ceiling, he could feel an unnatural warmth spreading through his mind—a sensation unlike anything before. It wasn't pain. It wasn't discomfort.

It was knowledge.

And then, his vision went black.

—

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the cabin.

He stood in a grand hall of gold and ivory, stretching endlessly in every direction. Pillars rose into a sky of swirling stars, and the ground beneath his feet shimmered as if woven from light itself.

Before him sat a man—dressed in flowing royal robes, his hair and beard as golden as the sun. His eyes were old, wise beyond comprehension, and held an undeniable presence. He was neither warm nor cruel. He simply was.

Leonidas' breath caught in his throat.

"...Solomon."

The man regarded him for a moment, then gave a small nod.

"So, you have finally reached the threshold. Good."

Leonidas tried to speak, but before he could, the memories crashed into him.

—

A temple of gold, filled with voices chanting his name.

A vast kingdom, its people looking to him for guidance, their fates woven into his hands.

The wisdom of ages, knowledge of things beyond mortal comprehension—numbers, equations, sacred words, and the very fabric of magic itself.

And then—

The demons.

Seventy-two of them, each unique, each powerful beyond belief.

He saw them kneeling before him, their forms monstrous and terrifying, yet utterly obedient.

"By the will of the Lord, I command thee."

The words rang in his head, a truth as old as time.

They had no choice but to bow.

They had no choice but to obey.

And in return, they had built his kingdom, erected his temple, carved his name into the annals of history.

He had understood magic like no other, wielding it not as a weapon, but as an extension of will itself.

He saw himself performing miracles, bending reality with mere words, sealing away curses, commanding the very stars to burn brighter.

He saw himself fall.

Betrayal.

Destruction.

The weight of a king who had seen too much, felt too much, known too much.

And then—nothing.

—

Leonidas gasped, his mind snapping back to the present, his body drenched in sweat. He sat up sharply, heart pounding in his chest.

It was real.

He hadn't just inherited a "template." He had inherited Solomon's entire existence.

Every lesson. Every spell. Every trial.

He understood now.

Magic wasn't about brute force. It wasn't about throwing fire or lightning like a common sorcerer.

It was law.

Magic existed to rewrite the rules of the world—and Solomon had known how to bend them to his will.

Leonidas gritted his teeth, pressing a shaking hand to his forehead.

His integration had jumped massively.

[Template Integration: 65%]

Physical Strength: Unchanged. Peak human but limited by youth.

Swordsmanship: High level, enhanced by supernatural precision.

Magic: Vast knowledge unlocked—knows the theory behind all spells, but lacks the power to execute higher-level ones.

Goetia Connection: Fully unlocked. The 72 Demons acknowledge him as their master.

Leonidas exhaled sharply.

"So... this is what it means to be Solomon."

He clenched his fist, staring at his trembling hand. The knowledge burned inside him, endless, limitless, but his body wasn't yet ready to wield it all.

That would come with time.

For now, he would do what Solomon had done at the beginning of his reign.

He would learn.

Slowly, he laid back down, staring at the ceiling once more. But this time, he wasn't lost.

For the first time, he truly understood the power inside him.

And in the days to come, he would begin testing it.