The villagers gathered in the square, their cheers slowly turning into chants of gratitude. The old man continued.
"Ragon… you freed us. You ended the curse of Graknar. There is no one else fit to lead. Please, become our king."
The crowd knelt as one as their heads bowed.
Ragon's eyes widened. He stumbled back a step, shaking his head.
"King? No. You're wrong. I'm not fit for that. I didn't do this to rule...I did it for my parents." His voice cracked on the last word. "I don't want your throne."
"But without you, we have nothing," the elder insisted. "We need a leader to rebuild, or we'll fall into chaos."
Ragon clenched his fists, torn between anger and grief. "I just buried my mother. My father was slaughtered before my eyes. And now you want me to sit on a throne? Do you think I care about crowns and titles?" He spat the words, his chest heaving.
The villagers didn't move. The elder lowered his head further. "You are our only hope."
Ragon clenched his fists. "Hope? You see a savior, but I see blood on my hands. Why should I wear a crown for that?"
The villagers remained kneeling, silent but unyielding. The elder's voice cracked. "Because no one else can. We will not rise unless you accept."
Ragon's chest rose and fell heavily. He looked at their faces—tired, scarred, desperate, yet full of faith. His jaw tightened, and for a long moment he said nothing. Finally, he exhaled through clenched teeth.
"Fine. I'll accept. But hear me clearly." His gaze swept over them. "Don't worship me. Don't treat me like a god. If I lead, I do it as one of you, not above you."
The villagers lifted their heads, tears streaming as they cried his name.
"Ragon!"
"Ragon!"
"Ragon!"
He swayed on his feet, dizzy, the last of his strength draining away. "Enough," he muttered, pressing a hand to his temple. "I need rest."
Thera rushed to his side, taking his arm before he collapsed fully. "Come," she whispered, steadying him as she guided him away.
The next day, Ragon opened his eyes, shocked to see sunlight creeping through the window.
"Huh? Morning already?" He rubbed his temple, wincing. "Damn, my head… I must've slept the whole day yesterday." He stretched his arms, bones cracking as he got up.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," Ragon called.
The door creaked open, and Thera stepped in, carrying a wooden basin of steaming water.
"Good morning, sir. Forgive me for disturbing you… I came to help you with your bath." Her voice was soft, her cheeks already flushed.
Ragon blinked at her. "Wait...bath? What do you mean help me?" He sniffed his armpit, gagged, and coughed. "Okay… fair. I smell like a dead boar. But still...what exactly are you trying to do?"
Thera shuffled closer, setting the basin down. "It's my duty. You're the new king. I should take care of you."
Ragon stepped back quickly, raising both hands. "Hold on...are you seriously about to strip me down? What the hell! Who told you this was part of the job description? And why would a girl like you.." He stopped himself, fumbling. "a girl that… looks… uh… decent enough...Be doing this?"
Thera's face turned red. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I-I just thought… it's what's expected. My grandfather is the patriarch, and my friends told me this would please you."
Ragon raised an eyebrow. "So, wait. You've never even bathed a man before, have you?"
She hesitated, then shook her head. "…No."
Ragon groaned. "Unbelievable. Then why put yourself in this mess? You don't even know what you're doing."
Thera wrung her hands nervously. "I just… I wanted to help. I thought it would make you happy."
"Happy?" Ragon sighed, rubbing his face. "Look, I'm grateful, but this?" he waved between them
"isn't how you help me. Just leave the stuff there. I can wash myself."
Her eyes widened. "Please… don't tell my grandfather."
Ragon managed a faint grin. "Relax. My lips are sealed." He pressed a finger across his mouth like a zipper.
Thera finally exhaled, her shoulders dropping. "Thank you… then I'll take my leave." She hurried out, shutting the door behind her.
The moment she left, Ragon let out a heavy sigh. "That was awkward as hell."
He sat cross-legged on the bed, his body still aching. He could feel it..divine energy flowing faintly back into his veins.
As Ragon lowered himself into the pool, the cold water washed over his body. He scooped a handful and splashed it against his face, feeling the dirt and blood slide away.
His hand froze on his chest. The scar from Graknar's strike was gone. Not even a trace remained. His body was already healed.
"Hmph… if not for the godlike soul sealed inside this body, I would've been nothing but dust after that battle. Ragon… even unconscious, you saved me."
He leaned back against the stone edge of the pool, staring at the ripples.
"It's strange. I'm the one awake, the one thinking, yet your power is what kept us alive. Two souls in one shell — me, Alaric, the mind… and you, Ragon, the silent storm. Without your god-blood, my bones would've been shattered by those orcs."
For a moment he went quiet, watching the sparks of divine energy dance faintly across his skin like tiny threads of lightning.
"Graknar was only a three-star warrior, and I still almost died," he muttered. "If not for tapping into that stored divine energy… I'd have been finished." His fists clenched. "But I burned through nearly all of it. Next time… I might not get that lucky."
He inhaled deeply, letting the air steady him. "Alright… no more wasting time. I have to rebuild my core. I can't afford weakness."
Closing his eyes, he began reciting the Enlightenment to Divine Energy. Slowly, the air around him stirred, threads of energy streaming into his body.
An hour later, his skin was slick with sweat, the sheets beneath him stained black with expelled impurities. His chest heaved, but a faint grin spread across his lips.
"…Finally. Two-star warrior. Not much, but enough to keep me alive." He flexed his arm, the air trembling faintly at the motion. A nearby chair cracked as if slashed by an invisible blade.
"Damn… I really wrecked the bed though," he muttered, eyeing the ruined sheets. He stripped them off, grabbed a towel, and went to wash in the pool.
When he returned, clean and refreshed, a set of folded clothes caught his eye....a white silk shirt and black leather trousers. He ran his fingers across the fabric, marveling.
"I haven't seen clothes this fine in years. Guess they're really serious about this whole 'king' thing." He chuckled, slipping them on.
He stepped out of his chamber, the sun catching on his silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Villagers passing by paused, staring in awe.
As he made his way down the hall, he spotted Thera near the staircase. With a smirk, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
"Hey. Thanks for the clothes," he said casually.
Thera turned and her jaw dropped slightly. She had seen him before, but now, clean and dressed properly, he looked almost unreal. Her cheeks heated instantly.