The Imperial Castle at midnight didn't feel regal — it felt haunted. Silent corridors stretched endlessly, the walls too wide and ceilings too tall, like it was built for titans rather than men.
Blue witchlights flickered with unnatural steadiness, casting long shadows that followed Aden Vasco's steps.
His boots tapped rhythmically along the marble, his new obsidian medallion swinging at his chest with every stride — a silent reminder that power always comes with a weight.
Egmund spoke out. 'Damn, this place is fancier than I remember. All this marble and no one ever thought to add a minibar?'
'Pretty sure the minibar's in the dungeon.' , Aden answered flatly.
Aden smirked faintly.
Then he saw someone up ahead — a boy, about fourteen, maybe fifteen.
He wore academy blues with a crest sewn sloppily over the heart: a silver snake coiled around a sword. The emblem of House Arkhal.
The boy walked with his head down, gripping a worn book, lips moving slightly like he was reading as he walked. But when he glanced up and saw Aden, he stopped mid-step.
His eyes widened for a heartbeat — then dipped into a quiet nod, respectful but hesitant.
Aden slowed.
Egmund realized it 'Wait. Isn't that…?'
Aden affirmed it, 'Yeah. Kieran Arkhal. He's a big deal in the novel. Kind of a tagalong character — smart, good heart, gets tangled with the main cast.'
'Oh, right. The 'I didn't sign up for this but I guess I'll help you save the world' kind.' , Egmund spoke in a sloppy tone.
'Exactly. He was supposed to meet the protagonist at the Academy… not here.'
"Hey," Aden called softly.
The boy blinked, startled. "Sir?"
"You're Kieran, right? From House Arkhal?"
"Yes, my lord." He straightened instinctively. "I'm here as a page to one of the royal scholars. Just temporary…"
Aden nodded, studying him. There was something raw about the boy — awkward posture, nerves he tried to hide. He wasn't a warrior, not yet. But there was potential. A spark.
If Aden had not been stuck in these progressions, this would have been his 3rd year in the Academy.
"Don't let the books weigh you down too much," Aden said, passing him. "You'll miss the real story."
Kieran flushed, eyes flickering with confusion, but bowed again. "Thank you, sir."
As Aden turned the next corridor, Egmund piped up.
"So that's our future hero's bestie?"
Aden answered., "Yeah. And if he's already here… the timelines are starting to collapse."
Inside the throne chamber, it felt less like entering a court and more like stepping into a storm's eye.
The room was circular, domed in etched gold and silver, lined with statues of former Emperors watching from the shadows.
Eleven hooded advisors stood still as statues along the sides, not breathing, not moving.
Julius Chrono — Emperor of the Chronos Empire — sat at the center, not on his formal throne but on a plain black iron seat.
His gaze met Aden's. No ceremony. No smile.
"Twelfth Seat," he said.
Aden bowed lightly. "Your Majesty."
"You made quite the impression today. Pity it was on Lady Veris' spine."
Aden didn't flinch. "Then you know She had it coming."
The Emperor leaned back. "You executed a noblewoman — no trial, no order. You made me look weak in front of the Council."
"And how many more 'noblewomen' like her are experimenting on peasants in their basements, while you turn the other way?"
A flicker passed the Emperor's face — the briefest flash of something close to annoyance.
Egmund: 'Oof. Careful. You're poking the lion.'
Aden: 'Good. Let him bite.'
"She was a known quantity," Julius said slowly. "I tolerated her because I could manage her. Her power was… inconvenient. But controllable."
"Controllable?" Aden scoffed. "She cut open children. Dug holes in souls. You didn't control her. You enabled her."
A few of the hooded figures shifted subtly. No one spoke.
"I kept the Empire stable," Julius said, voice now colder. "That takes compromise. You, of all people, should understand that."
"I do. But I'm not playing your game. I won't close my eyes while monsters wear crowns."
"You think you're better than us?"
"No," Aden said. "I just think I've run out of patience for hypocrites."
Silence.
"I gave you power," the Emperor said. "But I did not give you license to wage war in the court."
"She was waging war long before I touched a blade," Aden replied.
"And you have proof of that?"
"She experimented on people. Took their mana, their minds. Her entire region is built on a bed of screaming bones."
Aden did not witness any of these things, but he knew it was happening because of the information he gathered from the novel.
A few hooded figures flinched.
A pause. Long. Unblinking.
Then the Emperor leaned forward. "You remind me of myself."
Egmund: 'Gross. Old guy flirting.'
Aden: 'Shut up.'
Egmund: 'No really, next he'll say 'when I was your age…'
Then — surprisingly — the Emperor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You sound like me… thirty years ago."
"Then what happened?"
"I won," Julius said. "And I learned that ideals don't survive thrones."
Aden met his gaze. "Then I'll burn the throne before I lose mine."
For a moment, neither spoke. The tension could've shattered steel.
The Emperor studied him for another long breath. "I knew of her experiments. I tolerated them — barely. Because the Veris family has power beyond these borders. They control trade networks, hold sway with foreign thrones. Removing her tips the scale."
Then Julius sat back. "You're dangerous, Aden Vasco. Which is why I'm not throwing you in chains."
"I'd break them."
"I know."
Another pause. One of the hooded advisors whispered something. The Emperor raised his hand.
"Then let's move forward," he said. "What is it you wished to tell me?"
And as they descended into the war room below, the torches behind them guttered slightly — as if the flame itself paused to listen.