The journey to Syrius was a study in contrasts.
Ren sat inside a heavily armored Royal carriage, the rhythmic clatter of the steel-shod wheels a constant, lulling sound against the cobblestone road. The interior was lined with plush velvet and scented with expensive cedar—a level of comfort Ren hadn't experienced since before the world became a living nightmare. Outside the reinforced glass, the untamed wilderness rolled by, a world of monsters, ruins, and chaos. Inside, there was only the disciplined, suffocating silence of the Royal Vanguard.
He was dressed in his full, newly acquired gear. The Shroud of the Night Stalker felt like a cool, weightless shadow draped over his shoulders, and the S-Rank dagger, Eclipse, rested heavy and hungry at his hip. He looked the part of an elite, a specter of death sitting in a box of gold.
Across from him sat Knight-Commander Elara Vane. She was reading a military report, her face a mask of professional detachment. Flanking the carriage doors were two of her elite Royal Knights. One of them, a handsome man with a jawline that could cut glass and an aristocratic sneer permanently etched on his face, had not taken his eyes off Ren since the journey began.
[Appraisal]
[Target: Ser Kaelen]
[Age: 24]
[Class: Royal Knight]
[Level: 25]
[Rank: B]
[Strength: 75] [Speed: 60] [Stamina: 70] [Agility: 55] [Mana: 40] [Intelligence: 82]
Ren's Appraisal, fueled by his abnormally high Intelligence (142), was far more detailed than anything a normal adventurer could produce. He didn't just see a name; he saw the man's entire foundation. Kaelen was strong for a B-Rank, but to Ren, he was an open book of predictable numbers.
"It is a disgrace," Ser Kaelen said suddenly, his voice sharp and loud in the quiet carriage. "That the Royal Vanguard, the pride of Syrius, is reduced to escorting a common sellsword. An assassin, no less."
Elara didn't look up from her report. "Ser Kaelen, you are on duty. Maintain your discipline."
"My apologies, Commander," Kaelen said, though his tone was dripping with condescension. He continued to glare at Ren. "I simply question the wisdom of bringing such... filth into the hallowed halls of the capital. His kind belongs in the gutters of the Shadow Market, not the Royal Court. He probably smells of goblin blood and cheap copper."
Ren remained silent, his eyes closed as if he were asleep. He was conserving his energy, but his mind was alert, cataloging Kaelen's every word. He was a threat—not because of his strength, but because of his arrogance.
After a long moment of silence, Elara spoke again, her voice low and directed at Ren, though she still appeared to be reading her report.
"In the capital," she said, her words clipped and precise, "a wolf that pretends to be a sheep is often safer than a lion. The King values strength, but his Council values control. Remember that, Dragon Slayer."
It wasn't advice; it was a warning. A piece of classified intelligence from the Knight-Commander herself. Ren opened his eyes and met her gaze for a fraction of a second. An understanding passed between them. She was not his friend, but she was not entirely his enemy either. Her loyalty was to the Crown, but she clearly had her own definition of what that meant.
Suddenly, the carriage lurched to a halt.
"Bandits!" a voice shouted from outside. "A roadblock ahead!"
Ser Kaelen's face lit up with a cruel, eager smile. "Finally. Some sport to break the boredom of this escort."
He kicked the carriage door open before Elara could give an order and leaped out, his sword already drawn. "I will handle this rabble myself! Stay here and protect the... asset."
Ren watched through the open door. A group of about twenty bandits had blocked the road with a fallen tree. They were C-Rank, judging by their mismatched gear—a collection of scavenged armor and monster hides. They were clearly outmatched, but desperate.
Kaelen was a whirlwind of polished steel. He moved with the practiced, elegant grace of a Royal Academy graduate. His sword flashed, parrying three attacks at once before delivering a precise, disabling strike to a bandit's knee. He wasn't just fighting; he was performing, showing off his superior training for Elara—and for Ren.
Within five minutes, the bandits were defeated. Ten were dead, the rest were bound and kneeling on the road. Kaelen stood over them, his armor pristine, not a single hair out of place.
He swaggered back to the carriage, sheathing his sword with a flourish. "See?" he said, looking directly at Ren. "That is how a true knight handles a threat. With honor and efficiency. Not by hiding in the shadows like a coward."
Ren simply closed his eyes again, offering no reaction. His silence seemed to enrage Kaelen more than any insult could have.
As they crested the final hill, the capital of Syrius came into view.
It was breathtaking. A city of white marble towers and gleaming golden spires, nestled in a lush valley and protected by massive, rune-etched walls that seemed to touch the green-tinted clouds. Banners bearing the golden dragon crest of the kingdom fluttered in the breeze from every battlement. It was a jewel of civilization, a testament to the power and order of a kingdom that had successfully tamed the wild world.
For the first time since the System arrived, Ren felt a sense of genuine awe. This wasn't the mud and desperation of Riverwatch. This was the heart of the world.
Upon arriving, Ren was not taken to a guest suite. He was escorted to a spartan, high-security room in the Royal Knights' barracks. Ser Kaelen followed him in, dismissing the guards with a wave.
"Before you are presented to His Majesty," Kaelen said, his voice dripping with disdain, "your equipment must be inspected for... contaminants. We cannot have you carrying cursed items into the presence of the King."
He reached for Eclipse, the S-Rank dagger at Ren's hip. "A filthy blade from the slums could carry any number of diseases."
Ren didn't move. He didn't stop him.
The moment Kaelen's gauntleted fingers touched the hilt, he recoiled as if burned. The dagger, humming with the latent power of Ren's mana and its own S-Rank status, felt impossibly heavy—as if it were anchored to the center of the earth. Kaelen, a B-Rank knight with high Strength, couldn't even budge it from its sheath.
"What... what is this?" Kaelen stammered, his face flushing with a mixture of shock and deep humiliation.
Ren simply looked at him, his eyes cold and dead. "It's heavier than it looks. And it doesn't like being touched by strangers."
Kaelen, his pride wounded, backed away, his hand trembling. "Insolent cur. The Council will put you in your place. You won't be so arrogant when you're kneeling before the lords."
He stormed out of the room, leaving Ren alone. The first blow of the capital had been struck without a single sword being drawn.
An hour later, Ren stood in the center of the Royal Court. It was a cavernous hall with a ceiling so high it seemed to hold its own sky. The floor was a massive mosaic of a golden dragon, and stained-glass windows depicted the heroic deeds of past kings. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the heavy, silent pressure of power.
He was flanked by Elara and a still-fuming Kaelen. Before him, on a raised dais, sat the Royal Council and the King.
The King was a kind-faced, elderly man with a regal bearing and eyes that seemed to see through the masks of everyone in the room. Ren used Appraisal.
[Target: King Theron IV]
[Age: 68]
[Class: Royal Paladin]
[Level: ??]
[Rank: A]
Even with his superior skill, Ren's Appraisal hit a wall. He could see the common information—name, age, class—but the true stats and level were obscured, a privilege of the truly powerful. His limit seemed to be around A-Rank, Level 30.
The proceedings went surprisingly well at first. Elara gave a concise, professional report of the Battle of Riverwatch, highlighting Ren's "unexpected but decisive" role in felling the B-Rank Dragon.
The King smiled, his voice warm and resonant. "Extraordinary. A young man of such talent is a gift to the kingdom. We should honor those who stand when others fall. I hereby grant you the official title of Dragon Slayer."
A murmur of approval went through the court.
"Furthermore," the King continued, "we will grant you a position within the Royal Knights, so that your skills may be used to protect the realm."
It was a generous offer. A path to nobility and power. Ren was about to give the humble, non-committal answer Vargus had coached him on, when a sneering voice cut through the hall like a rusted blade.
"A moment, Your Majesty."
An old, gaunt official named Zilton stepped forward. He had a thin, cruel mouth and eyes that glittered with a deep-seated disdain for anything he couldn't control.
"We grant this... boy... a title, a position," Zilton said, his voice dripping with venom. "But we know nothing of him. What is his origin? Where did he come from? Who are his parents? A weapon without a known maker is a dangerous thing indeed. We cannot have a shadow-dweller in the King's inner circle."
The King frowned. "His deeds speak for him, Lord Zilton."
"Deeds can be deceiving!" Zilton countered, his voice rising as he turned to the council. "This is a commoner, an assassin from the backwater slums, who suddenly displays power rivaling a B-Rank knight. Is no one else suspicious? Is this not a threat to the established order? To the noble bloodlines that have protected this kingdom for centuries?"
A wave of murmurs swept through the council. Zilton's words had struck a nerve. About seventy percent of the officials were nodding in agreement, their faces hardening. They saw Ren not as a hero, but as a disruption to their comfortable, predictable world.
The King, for all his power, was bound by the majority opinion of his council. He looked at Ren, his kind eyes now filled with a troubled uncertainty.
"Lord Zilton raises a valid point," the King said slowly, the weight of his council's suspicion pressing down on him. "Before we can grant you any further honors, the matter of your origin must be addressed. Dragon Slayer Ren... tell us. Where did you get your power?"
The entire court fell silent. Every eye was on Ren. It was a simple question, but it was a trap.
Ren stood in the center of the magnificent court, his past a blank slate and his future hanging on his next words.
[End of Chapter 31]