His Majesty, The King

Dub Luv

Nyara's heart drummed through the room as she slept. Eiran reached for his Royal uniform, Forge Form link return. Immediately, talent energy poured into the fabric and began its repair.

Ethereal threads wove through the burnt, torn sections. Only minimal energy was required to restore it to normal.

Over the past four days, he had trained with his new blood art skill, though not extensively. Adaptation was still working within him, making Eiran reluctant to overexert his body.

Nyara awoke, her drumming heart gradually settling as she remembered Eiran's earlier distress.

She stood, tired and sore. Seeing Eiran repair his uniform reminded her that tomorrow would bring their audience with the king.

She had returned to her normal height, her body restored to its previous form, but she wasn't ready.

After preparing food for the little gluttony, she began her own preparations.

She consumed a large meal—more medicine than mere sustenance. Sitting cross-legged, she took a portion of everything.

'Thousand Year Digestion'

She activated the technique that accelerated food digestion.

Thousand Year Assimilation'

The second part made nutrients assimilate into her body.

'Thousand Year Growth'

Her body vibrated as the assimilated nutrients built her body and then hunger returned.

This continued until her talent energy was exhausted. She rested to recover, then continued.

For the entire day, she maintained this cycle until she could go no further.

Eiran watched and smiled. The improvement his Celestial Blood Essence had made to her body was amazing.

At midnight, her drumming heartbeat returned to normal, and a hue of force covered her body.

"She's at her prime!" Eiran read her blood. "Just in time."

***

Nyara had to argue with Eiran before he washed and donned the perfect Royal Uniform. He stared at his blade—untouched since his return.

"I like this blade!" he muttered, gesturing. The blade flew toward him like iron to a magnet.

"Wait," Nyara stared at him. "Have you reached the Invocation?"

"No. Master's steps 1 and 2," he said, drawing the sword to reveal its black blade.

"Amazing. I..." she stammered. "That's why you went on!" Realization dawned. "It's begun attracting light, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. It becomes heavier when it does that!" He sheathed the blade and turned to her. She had returned to her 1.90-meter height. "Now I know I have a guardian!"

Nyara smiled, then twirled. A new dress formed around her—tight within, then loose above, covered by a flowing gown.

"How? You have such power. How can you do that?" Eiran demanded.

"I'll tell you. But first, you should know my new name..."

"Alright." Not her birth name, but her talent name. Chamberlains were mostly known by their talent names.

"Shallow Sea is my name," she beamed, her silky black hair pulsing with power as she bowed. "You will not drown, but I am vast!"

The weight of her talent settled on Eiran. "Damn. Aren't you too strong for a chamberlain?"

"Absolutely not," she said humbly. "Let's go. The king will want to see his son."

***

They wished themselves forward and appeared before a giant double doors of ancient wood.

Eiran stood at the front, Shallow Sea slightly behind him. "The king has a heavy presence. If you can't handle it, don't go too close."

Eiran nodded.

"Other princes will be present. Don't strike up conversations with them in front of the king!"

Eiran nodded.

"You must bow before the king—knee to the floor—and pledge your allegiance!"

Eiran nodded.

She was repeating her earlier instructions. The doors creaked open, and the cool scent of incense reached them.

They walked inside through a small corridor, then turned left. Two rows of people stood before them—thirteen Phase 1 candidates on the right, eight Phase 2 on the left.

The king sat at the far end. He was... enormous. Larger than the golden man, and Eiran's eyes widened.

"Wow... you're huge!" he blurted.

Shallow Sea felt like dying. She reached to touch him as he halted in sudden exclamation, but he walked ahead with the same awe on his face, disregarding the congregation.

As he approached Prince Robin and Sundown, his blood reminded him with a sudden sharp emotional spike.

He glanced at the man distracted by the sight of Shallow Sea behind him. Wondering how she was still alive.

Eiran's smile beamed, making his eyes crescent with gladness. "Hello, Prince Robin," he greeted, then added, "Hi, Sundown!"

But behind those words lay raw Intent forged from the agony he'd absorbed from Nyara's blood. For just a moment, a sigil flashed in his mind and transformed into a celestial whisper that no Phase 2 or 3 could hear or understand.

Eiran himself was oblivious to what his blood had done.

Prince Robin's face was expressionless but curious about how Nyara survived, same as Sundown. Then his heart became like stone and stopped beating.

His Psionic power surged to pump it artificially in countless fractions of a second, preventing his body harm but the veins and arteries feeding his brain from the heart all ceased function, stopping blood flow despite his artificial pumping.

His psionic power increased, taking control of his entire bodily functions. Despite that his legs weakened and he slumped like a marionette with severed strings. This was an unknown effect that he couldn't grasp.

He was collapsing into unconsciousness as Eiran looked away with the same innocent smile, moving toward the king with renewed awe.

Sundown was fast—faster than Nyara—but delayed as his joints refused to move. As a Power, his raw strength broke the unknown effect, but too late. Prince Robin was on the floor, bleeding from every orifice.

A surge of talent energy erupted from him to quickly suppress the unknown effect and was about to stand when Sundown escaped his hold and helped him up.

Both their minds were in chaos, unable to think clearly.

Nyara—Eiran's chamberlain—nearly froze inside. Her walk didn't halt, her face showed nothing, she didn't glance at them or anyone.

She controlled her heart to show no anxiety, but her thoughts churned. 'He's like Dragon King. A talent that can affect higher-phase humans.'

Her thoughts halted as Eiran's voice rose in praise. "I don't understand!" he exclaimed again.

His hands spread wide, eyes widening as if the king were a wonder this world had been hiding. "They say you're sick, about to retire, unable to rule, but... but..."

Eiran stammered, lacking vocabulary to finish.

"I've never seen such vitality beyond measure. Not an immortal, but such life force will sustain you for a thousand years."

A soft hand touched Eiran's shoulder, recalling him. He quickly composed himself.

"Apologies, Your Majesty. Your presence has eluded my composure."

Shallow Sea, Eiran's chamberlain, knelt with palms on the floor and whispered a greeting.

Eiran placed his hand on his heart with great humility—something he'd never done for anyone. "Greetings, Your Majesty. Oh, Great King!" His head bowed, his back slightly curved.

With that complete, Eiran rose and continued, "But why would they feed us false information? I bet you're the healthiest man in the whole world!"

'You're supposed to kneel with one knee and stay down until he speaks,' Shallow Sea complained mentally. Dealing with Eiran was always a headache.

The king's body was shrouded, but his size pressed upon anyone who gazed at him. His eyes—golden brown—stared down at everyone, clearly visible. They appeared both sculptural and alive.

When he moved, it was as if the world shifted. His face was revealed, and Eiran's eyes beamed more, growing wide with wonder.

°"Are you old enough for this race?"°

His voice seeped into them—gentle, not roaring, yet filled with calming authority. You could listen to it all day.

"I don't know." Eiran shrugged. "Dr. said it would be plenty of fun here!"

The king was handsome with a well-trimmed beard, soft facial features, and elegant eyebrows.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the little upstart before him, then he rose to stand.

The pressure on them increased. Both Phase 1 and 2 candidates held on; Prince Robin barely kept himself upright.

Eiran was absolutely oblivious to their struggle, exclaiming at another realization. Before he spoke, Shallow Sea stood from her kneel and positioned herself behind him.

A touch on his shoulder made Eiran pause, though he found nothing wrong and continued speaking.

"You're really huge!" Shallow Sea touched him again, and he corrected, "I mean, majestically huge!"

Shallow Sea mentally facepalmed. Eiran was beyond saving now.

The king didn't react as he stepped forward onto the five stairs leading to the throne.

Eiran stared at the elegant steps, filled with authority. The very air around the king seemed to obey him. On the final stair, his full form was revealed.

Human, but king among them. He didn't look exaggeratedly muscled but lean and chiseled, hidden beneath soft fabric that was plain yet exotic—woven from the finest wool, long extinct from the actual world.

He wore a necklace with a round, transparent stone at its center. His hair was long but pulled back, black as a raven's wing.

Glancing at him made your own body want to mimic him—his movements, his nature, his physique—except for Eiran, who had been aggressively trying to read the king's blood. But it was as if space folded around him, blocking access.

He stood twenty-five feet tall and looked down at the upstart before him, who was craning his neck at a dangerous angle.

°"Those crimson eyes..."° the king spoke. Eiran stared back, fearing they'd be connected with the Blood Monarch. °"...are cute!"°

No one felt happier than Shallow Sea, as this meant the king hadn't taken offense at Eiran's antics and lack of court manners.

Eiran blinked, confused. "They are?" He turned to the Shallow Sea. "You never said they were cute."

"Say thank you!" she whispered. Internally she screamed, 'My foolish prince, that was just a compliment. Why drag me into it?'

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Eiran said, even elaborating with exaggerated seriousness and hand on heart. "Your magnanimous words have illuminated my heart!"

"Hmm!" The king smiled and chuckled before walking forward, passing the two rows at either side and reaching the opening that showed the city outside.

Eiran followed, his eyes on the king's steps and the ground, thoughtful.

"Aha. That's why." His voice rose again, echoing through the chamber, but the other princes winced and put protections around themselves.

Prince Robin was a prime example that this little boy was not to be trifled with.

"You're not ill as they said," Eiran repeated, but this awe came from his deepest heart.

Everyone felt his absolute sincere wonder. "You're just too strong for the Great City. Every step shakes it. The city desires a new king before you destroy it by mistake!"

The king stopped abruptly and looked back, surprise on his face. The princes and chamberlains all turned to Eiran, shocked.

That was one of the secrets some of them had spent years trying to deduce, especially among the Phase 2 candidates after they learned the king was absolutely fine and wondered why he would leave his throne for anyone else.

Eiran tugged at Shallow Sea and whispered, "Did I say anything wrong?" His voice was never truly a whisper, just low. She touched him, indicating it was fine.

°"What would you say about the throne?"° the king asked.

Eiran turned to it and tilted his head.

"Huge. Made from ageless steel. Ethiopian alphabet formations that praise themselves. Hmm. The core and center of Ethiopia, and very magnificent," Eiran said what he observed.

"But nothing can match the magnificence of human life. It has endless mysteries that could drown the world and more, and you stand at the pinnacle of the human race."

Eiran was hyperintelligent but always followed what interested his heart most. Without the king, the throne would be grander than anything, but with the king present, the throne might just be metal scraps decorating the palace.

His priorities were well defined.

"How does it feel to be the strongest man in the world?" Eiran asked.

°"I rarely play sports!"° the king answered with a sigh.

"Ah. What are sports?" This was the first time he'd encountered the word. Nyara whispered to him.

"Oh. Well, that's really too bad, because it sounds fun!"

°"You have no idea!"° the king said before a man approached—tall too—and bowed to the king. "Guide the young prince."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" He ushered Eiran toward another door while the boy kept asking questions, but the man ignored every word.

Shallow Sea stood to the side, uninvited. She hid a deep sigh. These few minutes had been intense, leaving her mentally exhausted and emotionally drained.

"This brat!" the king spoke, and the princes all paid attention. "Mebrak Dagmawi is not here to lose the throne."

Everyone stiffened. This compliment was reserved only for those princes who already possessed what it took to sit on the throne. They sought only the approval of the city.

At present, there were only two others with such recognition.

Ethiopia's royal name for Eiran Thorne was Mebrak Dagmawi.