(Zayn's Perspective)
His name wasn't supposed to exist outside of the deepest, darkest archives of the Royal Palace. Zeron. It was a curse, a scar on my father's reign, and now King Winston spat it out like a prophecy fulfilled.
It can't be him. It can't. My brother. The Crown Prince. The one they said was dead... the one my father killed.
The force of the revelation hits me physically. My knees buckle, and the floor rushes up. It's not fatigue; it's the sheer treason of the universe. I hear Jai and James calling my assumed name—Arthur!—but their voices sound dull, distant, trapped behind a sheet of glass. I shove them away. I can't let them touch me now. Not when the shame of my family, the filth of our history, is clinging to me like a wet burial shroud.
Every step I take towards the makeshift throne where King Winston sits is a step back through time, a frantic, agonizing walk down a memory corridor.
I see him. Not the monster King Winston described, but the boy with the fierce eyes and the easy laughter. The older brother I idolized. The one who was already practicing his battle forms when I was still learning to walk.
I feel the distance. The constant, aching coldness he held toward me. He never looked at me without that faint shadow of blame. He thought I killed our mother. He truly believed that my birth was the price for her life. And I, the small, unworthy prince, never found the words to tell him how much I admired him, how much I loved him, how desperately I craved his approval. That confession is a bullet I now carry in my own heart.
I hear the screams. The secret whispers of the palace guards—the night Father did what he had to do. Patricide. The King extinguished his own son to save the kingdom from Zeron's first betrayal. That memory is the true, bloody foundation of my family's power. And now, the enemy—Lenard—has not only exposed that secret but has weaponized it.
Zayn finally reached the King, his face a mask of grief and fury. He thrust his face inches from King Winston's, the raw power of his unmasked emotions vibrating in his low, dangerous voice.
"What treason are you speaking?" Zayn hissed, the threat palpable. "My brother is dead! What vile deception are you weaving?"
In that instant, denial transformed into violent action. A tempest of glacial ice and churning earth magic erupted from Zayn's hand, condensing into a lethal, spinning Ice Drill—a Tier 9 weapon aimed directly at King Winston's heart.
The King, a Tier 5 Master, remained utterly unmoving.
Before the Ice Drill could strike, Jai reacted with the blinding speed of a true master. His golden Divine Sword materialized in his grip, striking the spiraling tip of the drill. The collision unleashed a shower of crystalline shards and molten sparks, illuminating the desperate defense. Simultaneously, James, relying on his potent Space Magic and brute force, twisted behind Zayn, his arms locking around the distraught prince's waist in an iron grip.
"Zayn! Stop this madness!" Jai roared, holding his sword steady. "He is only explaining what he heard! Why are you attacking the messenger?"
Zayn fought James's hold, his body trembling with the overwhelming conflict. "I spent years trying to accept my brother's death! And now he claims Zeron is resurrected to kill our entire kingdom! I won't hear it!"
"The only Zeron is my brother!" Zayn screamed, the truth finally forced out. "My father put a decree—no child in the Stonehead lineage would ever bear that cursed name again! I know it's him!"
Jai, though filled with shock over the revelation of Zeron's unique name, focused on the immediate danger. "What can he do? He has only told us what he knows! We must investigate!"
Jai and James eventually subdued Zayn, forcing him into a chair. The prince was spent, his strength collapsing under the weight of his emotional exhaustion.
James approached King Winston, still shaken by the cold efficiency of the King's reaction. "Your Majesty, he was trying to kill you! Why did you sit there without moving?"
King Winston, unconcerned, gently rubbed his hand—before replying. "Young Master Clement, I am a Tier 5 Master. His ice drill could not have penetrated even twenty percent of the defensive artifacts woven into this simple cloak. I allowed the confrontation to play out to observe his emotional state and his power level. Had he succeeded in causing any genuine damage, I assure you, I would have stopped him with swift, necessary force."
James understood the devastating confidence of a master. A Tier 5 warrior facing a Tier 9 apprentice accepted the attack not out of folly, but out of absolute certainty in his own power and defense.
"Sir Winston," Jai interjected, pulling the conversation back to the crisis. "Now that we know the true extent of the Shadow Ledger's success, what is our immediate course of action?"
The King's expression turned stern. "We must prepare. I need a detailed assessment of your true capabilities. Tell me your combat Tier and the nature of your elemental or magical authority."
Zayn, watching the King—a man who had just revealed his own, equally profound trauma, having lost his mother and seventy-five percent of his kingdom—finally mastered his emotions. Shame and renewed purpose stabilized him.
James quickly detailed his status. "I am a Tier 10 elemental master and I possess Air and Space Magic."
Zayn took a deep breath. "I am a tier 9 elemental master and I command Ice, Earth, and Storm Magic." He then pulled out a small, intensely red artifact, shaped like a stylized lizard, which radiated scorching heat. "And through this Tier 8 'Fire Breaker' artifact, I have mastered the basic manipulation of Fire Magic."
After thinking for a while Jai, finally, stated his own enigma. "I am a tier 10 elemental master and I possess Sword Magic."
King Winston's brow furrowed. "Sword Magic? I have never encountered a primary magical discipline categorized as such."
Jai merely replied, "It is a rare lineage, Your Majesty. My father also possesses this power." The King, knowing Jai is telling a lie but, he knows jai true powers and also his legendary chenwongo lineage that ran to the very top of the Human Kingdom's ruling authority, accepted the deflection without protest.
King Winston leaned forward, his single eye blazing with purpose. His assessment was brutal, professional, and entirely focused on survival.
"You three, despite your potent elements, are catastrophically weak. You operate at Tier 10 and tier 9 level. You would be instantly obliterated by Lenard, a Tier 5, let alone a resurrected ancient king. told this: We Dwarves naturally cultivate and advance Tiers faster than most humans due to our affinity with the Earth elements. You have months of rigorous training to catch up to the sheer power required to survive."
He struck the table with a flat palm. "I will personally undertake your training. I shall temper your combat skills and drill you until the war starts.
He paused, looking directly at Jai. "I must exempt you, Arthur (Jai). Your inner power and combat skills are already far beyond my personal forms. I do not understand your power, but your prowess is evident."
Jai, though recognized for his power, knew that even the King's assessment of his strength was limited. He recognized the brutal training that his dad make him to do".
King Winston then turned his attention back to Jai, his curiosity overriding his recent pain. "Show me your sword again, Arthur. I must understand the energy within it."
Jai, honoring the request, extended his magnificent, glowing Golden Sword. The light emanating from the blade was stunningly bright, causing the air around it to shimmer. Zayn gasped, having never seen the full splendor of Jai's weapon before.
Winston reached out, attempting to grasp the hilt once more.
The moment his hand touched the golden sword, it instantly sizzled and burned. He winced but forced himself to maintain contact, driven by the desperation to understand the weapon's power.
Then, his consciousness was violently ripped from the room. He found himself kneeling in an ethereal realm—a place of blinding golden light and drifting petals. An immense, crushing divine aura forced his head to the floor. From an impossibly bright throne, a feminine figure, shrouded entirely in white radiance—Emperor Dominatrix—spoke, her voice shaking the very fabric of his soul.
"How dare you lay your profane hand upon my son's inheritance?"
Winston, terrified and humbled before divine power, groveled, offering a desperate, profuse apology.
The Emperor's presence softened infinitesimally. "I sense your intent is righteous, dwarf. I spare you only because you aid my son in escaping this danger. Do not test my patience again."
King Winston's mind slammed back into reality, his body shaking, his hand throbbing with agony.
The three youths looked at him, concerned. The King merely smoothed his robes. "Nothing," he stated firmly. "A simple energy feedback."
He rose, his single, determined eye fixed on them all. "Your training starts at dawn."
The path to warriorhood had begun. Their only hope of survival lay in the rigorous, unforgiving training promised by the Tier 5 King.