The day of the coronation came faster than Yuri could comprehend.
Black banners hung from the spires, fluttering in the gray wind.
The throne room was transformed. Armored guards lined the walls like statues.
Yuri stood before the empty throne, dressed in ceremonial robes that felt far too heavy on his thin shoulders. His trembling hands clenched and unclenched.
The words of the King's decree still echoed in his mind.
A priest stepped forward, carrying the Crown of Bolt Kingdom on a velvet cushion.
It gleamed with gold-traced blue crystal veins, more than the weight Yuri could imagine.
The nobles clustered in the chamber whispered to one another, some with awe, others with barely concealed venom.
"An outsider," one sneered under his breath.
"A boy," another hissed, folding his arms.
"This is madness."
But none spoke aloud, yet.
Cid and Elias stood near the front, both watching their friend with quiet, steady gazes. Cid nodded once when Yuri glanced his way.
The priest's voice rang out:
"By the seal of His Majesty, may this crown pass to his chosen heir, to stand in the light where he no longer can."
The crown was lowered onto Yuri's head.
It felt like a mountain crashing down.
Later, in a private chamber behind the throne, Yuri sat alone on a marble bench, his hands gripping his hair.
"Me? A king?"
His breathing quickened.
He could still see the battlefield, the King's last moments, the blood, the light, the sound of stone cracking.
He shut his eyes, and a whisper escaped his lips, hoarse and broken.
"Dad... why me?"
For a long moment, he stayed like that until the door opened.
The fallout began even before the funeral rites ended.
A group of high-ranking nobles burst into the council chamber two nights after the coronation, their robes trailing silk and self-importance.
"This is absurd!" one barked, slamming his fist on the table. "The decree must have been forged! We demand a regency..."
"Indeed," another said, eyes sharp. "A boy cannot lead us. We should..."
A deep voice cut through them.
"Enough."
The chamber fell silent as the old man stepped out from the shadowed corner.
His posture was straight despite his age. A long black cloak trimmed with silver marked him as blood of the royal line.
"I swore to King Edoras, I would stand by his chosen heir."
He stepped closer, leaning on a carved staff.
"Try your schemes," Loki said softly, "and as his elder brother... I will remind you why we hold the Power Zones, and you do not."
The nobles' mouths opened, but then another presence filled the room.
The woman in black lacquered armor stood behind Loki, rifle slung across her back, her one good arm folded.
"I'm Hana," she said simply, her voice quiet. "Test my father, Loki... and you test me."
On the other side of the chamber, the glaive‑man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his glaive's blade faintly glowing with restrained energy.
"Name's Vara," he added with a grim smile.
The nobles froze, sweat beading at their temples. Their eyes darted between the three of them, then back to the door.
None of them spoke again.
They left, pale and trembling, their schemes dissolved before they'd begun.
When the chamber emptied, Loki turned to Yuri, who had been standing behind the council table, watching everything in silence.
The old man stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm and warm.
"You are not alone, boy." Loki said. "You carry his will now. But I... I carry the same blood and I will not let you fall."
Hana offered a nod, "We'll keep the snakes in line."
Vara smirked, tapping the butt of his glaive on the floor.
Yuri swallowed hard, his throat tight, and managed to nod.
Cid and Elias, who had been lingering by the door, stepped forward too.
Cid met Yuri's eyes. "Looks like your circle's growing."
Elias smiled faintly, though his eyes were red from exhaustion. "We've got your back, Your Majesty."
Yuri stared at them; Loki, Hana, Vara, Cid, Elias, and for the first time since the battlefield, a spark of something warm cut through the weight on his chest.
He took a slow breath, standing straighter, feeling the weight of the crown.
The council chamber emptied again as the last murmurs of unrest died down.
Outside, bells tolled over the city, funeral bells still, but quieter now.
Yuri sat at the head of the long table, crown still heavy on his head, Loki standing at his right hand, Hana and Vara flanking the doors like shadows.
Cid and Elias remained nearby, uncertain if they should leave or stay.
Yuri looked at them, really looked at Cid's tattered coat, at Elias' bandaged arm, at the exhaustion in their eyes.
They had stood beside him in fire and blood. They hadn't faltered when others had.
He straightened in the throne‑like chair and spoke, voice still soft but gaining a subtle edge of command.
"Cid. Elias."
Both of them snapped to attention without meaning to.
Yuri's gaze swept over them, the weight of a King behind his words now.
"I trusted you with my life on the battlefield. And I still do."
He drew a slow breath. "From this day forward, you are my personal guards. My shield. My sword. My decisions. Wherever I go, you go. Whatever storm comes, you face it with me."
Elias blinked, startled, then grinned despite himself."Y...Your Majesty... it's an honor."
Cid only nodded, silent, his dark eyes unreadable.
Loki stepped forward with a faint approving smile.
"A wise choice. Loyalty proven in fire is worth more than any noble's oath."
Hana gave them a single look, measuring and sharp, then inclined her head.Vara smirked.
But Cid didn't speak. Not yet.
That night, when the palace had gone quiet. Cid stood alone on a balcony overlooking the rain‑soaked streets of Bolt Kingdom.
He watched the silhouettes of people moving below, the distant sound of prayers and hammers repairing shattered gates.
He leaned against the railing, hands resting on the cold stone.
"Personal guard, huh?"
A bitter chuckle escaped him.
He closed his eyes, and memories rose unbidden. Eiran Kingdom.
For so long, he had walked through life wanting revenge, taking orders, swinging his blade, surviving because survival was all that was left. But the Colossals had already destroyed what he wanted to destroy.
He had no purpose, no reason to continue fighting or getting stronger.
But then...
He remembered Elias' laugh as they trained, ridiculous and genuine.
Yuri's nervous smile, his stammering determination even before the crown.
Myra's funny kindness, handing him bread when no one else would.
Ryn and the people of Bolt Kingdom cheering as the vanguard returned, even in mourning.
"I thought I had nothing left."
He opened his eyes, looking out over the city again.
"But maybe... maybe this is something I can protect."
For the first time in years, the thought didn't feel hollow. He felt his hand curl into a fist on the railing.
"...Alright," Cid murmured to the empty night. "If this kingdom is worth his life... then it's worth mine too."
A faint smile touched his lips, something he thought he'd forgotten how to feel.
Below, the bells tolled one last time. And above them all, a lone figure stood watch, not as a drifter or a survivor…
…but as a man who had found a reason to stand.