Episode 1: The Departure of Merslin
Merslin stood atop the highest tower of the Elysium Imperial Palace, the fading sun casting a crimson veil across the city. From this vantage point, he could see the vast empire he had built through countless battles and sacrifices, an empire now enjoying the fragile peace he had secured.
Yet, his gaze drifted beyond the horizon—to the unfathomable depths of the cosmos.
He turned, his footsteps echoing softly as he made his way to the chamber where Elena awaited. She stood by the window, lost in thought, the glow of twilight tracing the curve of her face. When his steps reached her ears, she turned, and their eyes met.
A faint smile graced her lips—one that said she already knew.
"You're leaving, aren't you, Merslin?"
Her voice carried both sorrow and respect, a quiet acceptance of his choice.
Merslin clasped her hand, his warmth answering her unspoken fears.
"Yes. To find a greater truth… to seek the power that lies beyond the known stars. If the empire is to endure, I must understand forces far greater than my own."
Elena studied his face, her fingers tightening around his.
"Then go. Whatever truth you're chasing, I'll support you. It's time we entrust what we've built to Lian and Lia. I only pray that the strength you find out there will guide us all."
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, fragments of an older life flickering in his mind—a name long forgotten by the world: Kim Young-min. A boy who once scribbled heroes into the margins of an old notebook, dreaming of a world that never existed. That boy had imagined a hero named Merslin.
Those sketches, those daydreams… they had become reality.
He had become the hero he once drew.
But now, even that dream was not enough. He needed to move beyond prophecy, beyond the role he himself had written—to break free, and become something truly untethered.
Merslin's smile softened as he brushed a hand across Elena's cheek.
"Thank you. Without you, I couldn't walk this path. Lian and Lia will find their own way. With you here, I have no doubt they'll endure."
Elena pulled him into an embrace, holding on as if to anchor him for just a little longer.
"Come back to us, Merslin. Promise me we'll stand together again."
He pressed his lips to her forehead, his voice a whisper.
"I will return. Our family will be whole again."
He summoned his twin children next.
Lian and Lia climbed the grand stair to meet him, the setting sun painting their faces in copper and gold.
He stood there, silent for a moment, before speaking.
"It's your time now."
Lian's voice trembled as he asked, "Father… are you truly leaving?"
Lia said nothing, but her eyes carried the same question, the same fear.
Merslin placed his hands gently on their shoulders.
"I must. This empire… I entrust to you. I can't remain here, sheltered in this palace, while the answers I seek lie beyond. You must lead, and you must grow stronger. I believe you will surpass me."
Lian bit his lip. "Without you… can we bear this weight?"
"You won't bear it alone."
Merslin stepped back, his voice firm now.
"Trust the strength within you. And trust those who stand beside you. Elena. Ivela. Serin. They will guide you. You are not alone."
With a sweep of his staff, the air in front of him split apart. A vortex of deep, shifting blue spiraled open—an archway into a dimension that pulsed with infinite possibilities.
He looked back one last time.
"Elysium is yours now. Grow strong, Lian. Lia."
And without hesitation, he stepped through.
The portal sealed with a soundless snap, and silence fell across the tower.
Lian and Lia stood rooted, staring at the space where their father had vanished. Their hearts were heavy with fear, but in that same weight, something else stirred—responsibility, and the faintest spark of hope.
The empire was now theirs to protect.
**
Episode 2: A Fragile Dawn – Lian's Rule Begins
When Merslin left, the Empire of Elysium did not crumble—but neither did it remain untouched.
The power vacuum stirred whispers.
The outer provinces, long kept in check by Merslin's sheer presence, began to shift uneasily.
Noble families who had been silent under his reign now saw opportunity, like weeds creeping through cracks in the stone.
The Interim Throne
Lian sat on the Interim Throne in the Imperial Hall.
It wasn't a coronation—no crown was placed, no grand ceremony proclaimed him Emperor—but the hall was full, lined with nobles, generals, and bureaucrats.
Every eye on him.
Every whisper weighing more than the crown he didn't yet wear.
"He's too young…"
"Without Merslin, is this boy enough?"
The doubts were unspoken, but they hung in the air like smoke.
Lian inhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the hall press down on his chest. He stood, voice steady despite the tremor beneath.
"Merslin, my father, has left in search of a greater truth—to seek what lies beyond the stars.
In his absence, I will safeguard Elysium.
I will not stand alone—but neither will this empire falter."
His words cut through the murmurs, but when he sat, the whispers began again—softer, sharper.
The Weight of Reports
Later, in his study, the walls felt closer.
Stacks of parchment covered the desk—reports from every province.
Each one a warning.
Lord Veyren expands his militia.
Duke Marco hoards grain in defiance of tax law.
Lian set the papers down and pressed his forehead to his hand.
For the first time since Merslin's departure, the thought struck him:
"Maybe I can't do this."
The thought lingered, heavy and unwelcome.
The Door Opens
The door creaked.
Ivela strode in first—her boots striking stone, her voice already sharp.
Serin followed, softer in step, quieter in tone, but her eyes no less steady.
Ivela didn't waste time.
"Lian, you can't sit here reading reports while the provinces slip away. The nobles smell weakness. If they think the throne is soft, they'll take the empire apart piece by piece."
Serin's voice was gentler, but no less firm.
"We must show them you're not fragile. The empire must feel unshaken, even with your father gone."
Doubt and Fire
Lian lifted his head, their voices stirring the storm he had been holding down.
"I know what you're saying. But I'm not my father.
I don't have his presence, his strength. Sometimes I wonder if I have any of what it takes."
The admission felt raw.
Ivela didn't look away.
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Good. You shouldn't try to be your father. That was his empire. This one will be yours.
What you need isn't his shadow—it's your own resolve."
Serin nodded, her hand resting lightly over his other shoulder.
"You're not alone. You never will be. Whatever happens, we stand beside you."
The Decision
The words sank in.
Lian rose from his chair.
The hesitation wasn't gone—but something steadier pushed beneath it.
"Then we show them. The nobles, the empire, everyone.
We prove we're not weak. That Elysium is still whole."
Ivela's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"That's the voice they need to hear."
Serin added softly:
"And the one we'll follow."
That evening, Lian issued his first order as the Interim Emperor:
Summon the nobles. All of them.
Tomorrow, the empire would see—not a boy in his father's shadow, but the leader he was choosing to become.
**
Episode 3: The Cunning Duke Marco
The Challenge in the Hall
Whispers had teeth.
Lian heard them in every corridor of the palace—soft, cutting words that carried more weight than swords.
But today, those whispers walked into the open.
The council chamber smelled of polished wood and tension. Nobles filled the long table, their robes dragging across marble, their rings clicking against cups as they waited.
At the head sat Duke Marco—his smile too wide, his voice too smooth.
"Interim Emperor, is it? Without Merslin, can we truly entrust this empire to… a boy?"
The words were sugar-dipped poison.
Heads turned.
A few nobles nodded—subtle, but enough for Lian to see.
The Weight of Doubt
Lian felt every eye, every flicker of skepticism pressing down.
For a heartbeat, his chest tightened.
They don't see me. They see a child. A placeholder. An empty throne.
But then—his father's shadow flashed in his mind, and he pushed it aside.
No. Not today.
The Stand
Lian rose from his chair.
The motion was unhurried. Deliberate.
The hall stilled—not because of power, but because of choice.
He met Marco's eyes and spoke, voice calm, voice sharp.
"Your doubts are heard, Duke Marco. But listen carefully—
I am not merely Merslin's son.
I am the one who now carries the weight of this empire. And I will not set it down."
The room shifted.
The smirk on Marco's lips flickered.
Lian's gaze swept the table, catching every lord and lady in its path.
"My father trusted me with Elysium. That trust will not be broken.
I do not rule by his strength. I will rule by my resolve.
And if any among you doubt that—stand now, and I will hear you."
Silence.
The kind that cut.
The Duke's Retreat
For a long second, Marco's eyes held his.
Then—he looked away.
"Very well, Interim Emperor. We will… watch, and see if your resolve holds."
It wasn't surrender. But it wasn't defiance, either.
It was something better: acknowledgment.
After the Storm
The chamber emptied slowly.
Lian's hands shook only when the doors closed.
He exhaled—long, steady.
Ivela leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirk tugging at her lips.
"Not bad, Emperor."
Her voice was edged steel, but the pride was real.
Serin stepped closer, her voice soft as water.
"What you said… it mattered. They'll remember it. And so will you."
Lian nodded.
The doubts weren't gone. The weight hadn't lessened.
But something inside had shifted.
He had stood.
And he had been seen.
***
Episode 4: A Secret Alliance
Months after Merslin's departure, the Elysium Empire maintained a fragile peace. But it was the peace of ice over a deep, running river. The cracks started small. Whispers. Rumors. Words spoken in hushed tones. But the cracks were widening. Orders for resource distribution flowed from the capital to the provinces, and in return, the complaints of the lords flowed back to the capital. The ink on every report repeated the same words. Discontent. Taxes. Alliance.
The Duke of Parnos's Manor
In the heart of a northern estate, a feast hall was bathed in deep crimson. Firelight from the hearth danced across crystal chandeliers and parchment-lined walls. The scent of red wine, poured into silver goblets, filled the room. Duke Parnos swirled his glass, the corner of his lip curling into a smile. His voice was low but firm. "With Emperor Merslin gone, now is our chance." The Duke's eyes gleamed. "Prince Lian is young, inexperienced. If we control the resources, we can seize greater power at the empire's heart." Duke Marco tapped his fingers on the table and nodded. "The crown's demands are heavy, its rewards light. The provinces are growing weary." His words were clipped, but they landed with the finality of a seal on a decree. Several nobles nodded in assent. The southern Marquis Edwin, pulling off gloves stained with chaff, spoke in a low voice. "Our farmers pay more in taxes to feed the capital, but nothing comes back to them. The boy does not yet know the weight of this empire." Amidst the rich scent of wine, discontent flowed freely. They smiled, hiding their true intentions, but their eyes were already entangled in a secret pact.
The Spreading Discontent
In a northern iron town, inside a forge, heated steel glowed a fiery red. Hag, a master blacksmith, slammed his hammer down. "Our iron flows to the empire," he grumbled, "but all we get back are tax notices!" A young blacksmith quenching steel beside him retorted, "It wasn't this hard under Emperor Merslin… Does Lian even know what we're going through?" Sparks flew with every strike of the hammer. They flared brightly before vanishing against the high ceiling, their brief light a mirror of the flickering hopes of the men below. In the southern fields, the golden light of late autumn still lingered. Mila, a farmer with a sickle in her calloused hand, looked out over the harvested land and let out a deep sigh. "Even after all our work, there's not enough grain left to feed our own families. We can't go on like this." Nearby farmers lowered their spades. Dust rose and settled. Their silent nods spoke of a despair deeper than words.
Lian's Office
The Imperial Palace, midnight. A single candle flame flickered, casting long shadows. Reports were piled high on the desk. Lian picked one up, then immediately set it down. It was the same story. Taxes rise, rewards do not.Resources flow to the capital, the provinces are abandoned. Lian pressed his fingertips to his temples. A heavy weight settled on his chest. The door opened. The sound of light, distinct footsteps. It was Lia. "Brother, what is it? You look exhausted." Lian slowly raised his head. The fatigue beneath his eyes was a dark stain. "It's the resources, Lia. The lords are consolidating their power. The people are crying out, and I… I don't know what to do." Lia approached without a word and took his hand. Her touch was warm. "Don't carry it alone. You have us. You have Mother. Let's find a way, together."
Elena's Counsel
Elena stood by the window. Moonlight streamed over her white dress. She looked at Lian, and after a moment of silence, spoke softly. "It is nothing new for lords to use resources to build their power. What matters is that you see through their schemes and do not lose the trust of your people." Lian held his breath. "You must go to the people," Elena's voice was unwavering. "If they stand with you, the plots of the nobles will lose their power." Her words were not mere advice; they felt like a command, carrying the weight of a nation. Lian exhaled slowly and nodded. "You're right. I can't forget the people."
That night, Lian spread a map across his desk. In the candlelight, the names of the provinces, marked in red ink, came into focus one by one. He set down his quill. And he muttered with resolve. "We prepare tomorrow. I will go and see for myself." Outside the palace window, the night sky was vast and dark. But in Lian's eyes, a faint but steady light had begun to burn.