The disorienting shimmer of teleportation faded, replaced by the solid stone of the Oasis teleportation building. Before Mike’s eyes had fully adjusted, his entire body went rigid. His soldier’s instincts screamed. Standing among his people and the three colossal snake corpses were two demons.

  His hand was a blur, the cold steel of his sword clearing its scabbard in a single, fluid motion. "Demons!" he roared, and around him, the city guards mirrored his action, weapons raised, a wall of imminent death.

  He lunged—only to find his path blocked by a figure of unyielding authority. It wasn't Azuma. It was Lord Valerian.

  "Hold," Valerian commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the chaos with the finality of a blade. Every guard froze, their attack aborted mid-stride.

  Antheros moved quickly to stand beside the two demons. "They are guests, Valerian," she said, her voice firm. "They are the ones with whom we made the agreement. Everyone, lower your weapons."

  Valerian’s cold eyes assessed the demons, then his wife. He gave a single, curt nod. The tension in the room, thick enough to taste, finally began to recede. The guards escorted the newcomers to the guest house, their movements still stiff with suspicion.

  Soon, only the inner circle remained: the Pillars of House Hammer, the Four Guardians, and Azuma’s parents, all standing in the shadow of the dead serpents. The moment the doors closed, Antheros’s composure broke. She rushed to Azuma, pulling him into an embrace so fierce it threatened to crush him. Her hands flew over his face, his arms, his chest, a frantic, silent prayer of thanks that he was whole.

  Valerian did not move. He stood as still as a statue, his face a mask of granite, unreadable.

  Tears of relief streamed down Antheros's face, but as her fear subsided, a hot wave of anger took its place. She turned to scold her son for his recklessness, but her husband’s voice stopped her.

  “Azuma. Anya,” Valerian announced, his tone devoid of any warmth. It was not the voice of a father, but of a ruler. “You are under arrest for the unauthorised activation of a teleportation formation. The council will judge the cost of your actions. Rufe, escort them to the cells.”

  The words struck Antheros with the force of a physical blow. Her eyes widened in shocked disbelief. She looked from her son's small, defiant face to her husband's implacable one. She knew the burden he carried as Lord of the House. She knew Azuma had broken one of their most sacred laws, wasting a priceless A-grade stone. Her heart screamed to fight, to protect her child, but her mind knew it was useless. This was not a time for argument.

  Without a word, she let go of her son. As the guards led him away, she fell into step beside them, a mother’s silent, powerless vigil on the long walk to the prison.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Inside the Guest House

  Shizu couldn't stay still. She paced the length of the room, her soft boots making no sound on the stone, but the worn path she was tracing spoke of her relentless anxiety. Her arms were wrapped around herself, a desperate, self-inflicted embrace. "Goar, this is a mistake," she whispered, her voice tight with fear. "Why are we here? Our people... they're waiting for us. We've walked into a viper's nest... for what? A child?"

  Goar did not respond. He sat hunched on a chair, his massive form seeming small. His hands, large enough to crush stone, were clenched into fists on his knees. He was staring at nothing, but in his mind, he saw it again. The towering serpent. The impossible power. The small boy who had brought a god to its knees.

  Finally, he spoke, his voice a low, haunted whisper. “He killed it, Shizu.”

  Shizu stopped pacing. "What are you talking about?"

  Goar slowly raised his head, and Shizu was startled by the look in his eyes. It was a terrifying mix of awe and disbelief. “That child… Azuma… I saw it. He wasn't just lucky or talented. He was born with it.”

  "Born with what?" she snapped, her patience worn thin. "We already know he's special. It's not enough to risk everything!"

  Goar shot to his feet, his hands gripping her shoulders, his grip like iron. His voice trembled with an emotion she hadn't heard in decades—a raw, dangerous hope. "You don't understand," he rasped, his eyes boring into hers. "His talent... it isn't just power. It's something else. Something forbidden."

  He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that was more intense than any shout. He struggled with the word, as if speaking it aloud might shatter the fragile hope it represented.

  "He used..."

  He took a shaky breath.

  "...'Null.'"

  The single word sucked the air from Shizu’s lungs. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “No,” she breathed, the word a fragile wisp of sound.

  "I saw it," Goar insisted, his eyes burning with conviction. "The moment he used it, the snake’s power just… vanished. Its essence, its very life force, was siphoned away. It was alive but utterly helpless. It couldn't fight. It couldn't even move. I merely broke the shell, Shizu. He was the one who extinguished the flame inside." His voice cracked. "It was weaker than the legends say, a mere echo of the original, but there is no doubt. It was Null."

  Shizu stared, her mouth agape. "And his age... you said he was...?"

  Goar swallowed, the word heavy with impossible meaning.

  "Three."

  Silence. Absolute. World-shattering silence.

  Shizu stumbled back, her hands flying to her mouth. No. It couldn't be. The Chained Prophecy, the tales passed down in whispers through generations of suffering. It spoke of their first king, a ruler who wielded a power that bent reality to his will. A power lost to time, a hope lost to despair.

  Her knees buckled, and she caught herself on the wall.

  "He could be the one," Goar whispered, his voice thick with reverence. "The reincarnation of our king."

  For centuries, their people had been broken, enslaved, praying for a savior the heavens had long since forgotten. And now, a ray of hope had appeared not as a mighty warrior, but as a three-year-old child.

  A shuddering breath escaped Goar’s lips, and his eyes gleamed with a light Shizu thought had been extinguished forever. It wasn't just hope for themselves. It was hope for their children. For their entire clan.

  For the first time in a thousand years, freedom was no longer a dream. It was a possibility.