Yuruki looked on with a small, quiet awe softening her expression. Then, in a sudden descent into darkness, the kingdom below was swallowed in dim firelight pouring down from above. As they landed, the vast chamber revealed itself—a massive hall that seemed to serve as a central gathering place, lined with chairs in wide circles. People filled the room, adults seated and talking, while children ran freely between them, their laughter echoing against the stone.
The palace itself was sealed tight. Every room, every passage, was guarded by hundreds of white-armored knights stationed at the gates. Some stood rigid and alert, while others relaxed in small groups, eating and drinking from rest pots, laughing among themselves as if this were a festival rather than a guarded stronghold.
When Yuruki landed, the translucent barrier surrounding her dissolved into nothing. At once, dozens of drones piled in toward her, hovering closely. The children stopped running. They stared instead, eyes wide with wonder, trying to understand what kind of creature—or species—this might be.
One small child tugged at her leg.
"Can you give me one of those bugs? Please, miss!"
Yuruki paused, her expression turning thoughtful. After a moment, she answered gently, her voice light and soft.
"Well… I don't know," she said. "Can you even handle the kind of bug you're talking about?"
Her voice carried just enough warmth that more children began gathering around her, their excitement rising.
"Yes!" one of them shouted. "I've farmed beetles before—for their scales! I had bugs all around my house!"
Yuruki smiled, momentarily dumbfounded. Somehow, even here, insects had found a purpose in this world.
Another child spoke up—a girl holding onto someone's sleeve. "Hey! My mother farms insectoids too—for artifacts…"
Their faces shone as they stared at the drones hovering above Yuruki's head. Some tried to grab at them, but Yuruki gently floated one upward, just out of reach.
"Well… this thing," she said carefully, "is a very special kind."
She didn't say what kind. She didn't say how dangerous it was. The guards were already watching, and she could feel their attention tightening around her. Saying too much would only bring trouble.
Her gaze drifted to her bag.
Inside were a photographic camera, a clock, and a pistol with a smiling sticker stuck to its side. There were books—hobby manuals, diaries—and then more bags tucked inside that bag.
A package dealer. Literally.
She reached in again and pulled out a small, shiny object—a clicker pen from her own world.
"What about this instead?" she asked.
She handed it to the child.
Almost immediately, shouting erupted. Families scolded one another for bothering a young lady, voices overlapping in chaotic concern. Yuruki merely waved, as if it were nothing.
Time passed.
Yuruki had already analyzed the flow of the future—she knew someone would approach her. Sure enough, a man with a monocle appeared. Meanwhile, she continued writing glyphs in the air, mapping the area around her. The palace hall was enormous, its seating forming patterns she now traced onto the glowing symbols. She marked people as well—some shouting at guards, furious that their smiths' swords were melting or being destroyed without explanation.
Nearby sat another figure: tall, thin, pale, wearing a hooded mask that protruded outward. That person was doing the same thing—drawing against the map, marking positions, tracking movement.
"Hello?"
"Ehem, miss."
Yuruki's awareness snapped back.
Before her stood a large man, smiling broadly. He wore a hooded gown over a black suit.
"I heard that you are a very special person," he said.
Yuruki blinked. "Huh?"
"With your tools and your artifacts," he continued, "would you momentarily consider investing in our bank—a constitution of business associations?"
Yuruki laughed under her breath. What kind of name was that? It sounded like a scam.
The man walked slowly to her side, arms folded close to his chest. "A lady such as yourself could invest in many corporations within this kingdom," he said smoothly. "You could watch their value grow—boom, even."
He handed her a long scroll of parchment—layers of paper rolled tightly. As she unrolled it, she saw lists upon lists: artifacts, corporations, business ventures circulating through the kingdom.
She tilted her head, pretending to be naïve.
"Alright, sir," she said. "I'll think about it… very soon. Like, very soon in the future."
Satisfied, the man walked away.
Moments later, a white-armored guard rushed toward her, drill sword strapped to his side. He bowed slightly, respectful and courteous.
"Ma'am, have you seen this person?"
Yuruki nodded calmly. "Is he some sort of criminal?"
The guard sighed as more soldiers gathered behind him, their presence making Yuruki increasingly uncomfortable.
"Well, no," he said. "There's no criminal record. His proceedings have been accepted by the court and government…He should be given another upportunity but... though he is under investigation. Allegations only..."
Yuruki pointed casually in the direction the man had gone.
The guards bowed again and ran off.
I see, she thought. This place is properly managed.
More time passed.
An elderly woman approached her, her face hidden beneath a cloak with her face and arm's the only thing that can be seen. "Excuse me, mistress," she said gently. "You don't seem to be from this kingdom. Unfamiliar, I suppose."
She smiled faintly. "I've noticed the artifacts you carry… and that."
A drone hovered closer, its lens turning toward them.
"Would you mind?" the woman continued. "I simply can't leave it be."
Yuruki paused.
"…?"
This could be something.
Adam — POV
I was at the palace after everything had settled.
A massive bridge stretched across the passover, so vast it reached beyond what the eyes could measure. At its end stood a radiant castle, resting alone on a single elevated platform. Along the bridge's sides, tall poles flickered with thorns of light, pulsing softly like restrained fire.
Cobblestone blocks crackled beneath the carriage wheels as the beetles pulled us forward, marching endlessly toward the palace. Around it spread countless sanctuaries—houses and towers clustered together, layered upon one another, encircling the structure. More marble bridges branched outward along the sides, forming a web suspended in the air.
Inside, white fireflies drifted through the halls, and with it the castle tended carefully by servants dressed in white suits. Their movements were precise, practiced, almost reverent.
I remained seated, holding the carriage door from the inside, silent.
A white firefly landed on my ring finger.
The sight of it stirred something old in me—nostalgia. It flickered gently, its brightness steady and calm. As we passed deeper into the palace, crests lined the upper walls, each embroidered with the symbol of a termite. Vases filled with flora sat everywhere, gardens woven seamlessly into the stone architecture.
At the center stood a shrine: the statue of the White King.
Nearby was another shrine—his son. The sculpture depicted him cloaked, helmetless, medium-length hair flowing as if caught in an unseen wind. A sword rested at his side, chainmail sculpted across his body, a red cape cascading behind him.
And then another figure.
A woman I recognized from the town.
I remembered her clearly—the black suit beneath her cloak, the white silk of her hair contrasting sharply against the darkness she wore. Seeing her likeness here unsettled me.
Nostalgic...
I let out a quiet sigh.
"How could a single person own this much?"
A voice answered me.
"It was given to me… I was destined."
The White King spoke. Finally letting it go...
His voice crackled as if carried through fractured stone. His crown was tarnished, broken. Cracks ran across his hands like shattered plates.
"I… had the power," he said. "And I was born with it."
He turned his gaze aside.
"No person can possess something," he continued, "without the power to hold it… without the value he can bring."
Behind him, grand windows opened to the sky, light pouring in from above, the heavens fully revealed.
I sighed, looking down before meeting his gaze again.
"So you're saying a person must earn what they have," I said. "Through the power they possess?"
The White King raised his hands, regal yet imperfect in motion—every gesture magnified by the weight of his presence. His palms opened, and from them, spells unfurled into the air. Circling glyphs and runes, hollow and luminous, spun around his hands like the orbit of the solar system.
Marbles of amorphous, Crystals, emeralds, and rubies emerged within the whirling light, rotating slowly before settling into intricate formations. They hovered, suspended by unseen forces, as if his very essence wove the magic around them.
Then, as silently as they had appeared, the light began to dim. The gemstones spun slower, the glyphs flickered, and the runes dissolved into thin air. Within moments, everything—the crystals, the emeralds, the rubies, the swirling symbols—vanished, leaving only the quiet, charged stillness of the hall.
"Isn't that how it's meant to be?" the White King replied. "Just by having the power of an Ascended One, you and I are already gaining something... Which no ordinary person can even wonder and hold"
White King: "Determination, intelligence, will, wisdom, and power… they are already granted to the individual, woven into your very essence. You already possess the capacity. And the world… it responds to it."
Adam rolled his eyes.
"Yeah."
The word came out flat.
Memories surfaced—his past selves, trapped in that room, boxed in by narrow walls and narrower choices. Powerless. Poor. Every action he took felt meaningless, each effort collapsing back into the same stillness. No matter how much he moved, nothing changed. Nothing amounted to anything.
Capacity, will, essence—those were words spoken from thrones.
Down there, in that room, the world never responded.
He sat majestically, resting his hands atop a cane traced with black and white lines.
As the White King softly grins at him and then he calm's down in a blank expressions. "That's why... I must also give upportunities to the individuals who are'nt able to shine in this world"
...
"But I am afraid," he went on, "That I was never enough. I could have done more. This will that was given to me… this purpose."
His voice softened.
"I wonder, in my thoughts, if I will ever find the answer I seek. The fear… the dread rising from within me. The existential weight placed upon my soul—for merely existing."
I sighed again, feeling that same weight press against me.
"Shouldn't you have enough by now?"
"No," he said sharply, gripping his hands.
"I failed."
His voice trembled.
"My citizens died beneath the threats that came for us. Buildings… Infrastructure—destroyed across centuries made by beings that came before. I watched them build it all, only for their actions, to become the last remnants of their existence."
He exhaled deeply.
"My kingdom. My people. My children."
A pause.
"I only hope… that my dread will not be passed on to them. That they will be prepared for whatever comes."