The Monarch Who Walks Alone
"Not every arrival shakes the world.
Some are swallowed by silence — until the silence breaks."
The world was warm beneath him.
Milan stood on a beach not marked on any map — where sky bled violet and gold, and the sea reflected nothing.
No stars. No clouds. Just breath.
He blinked once. The system answered.
[SYSTEM REINTEGRATION COMPLETE]
"Master, this is no longer a fragment of the World System.
You now wield a unique construct: a system woven by your existence.
It obeys only one command structure — yours."
Milan exhaled. The words were not code. They were acknowledgment.
"Current location: Mother's Cradle.
What you perceive as a beach… is the oldest part of this world's foundation.
Barriers deny gods. They deny monsters.
But not you.
Because the world itself permitted your entry."
He looked down.
The sand pulsed faintly with golden veins, like breath through stone.
[DISGUISE RECOMMENDED]
"Draconoid form not compatible with local society.
Reversion advised."
"…Understood."
He crossed his arms over his chest.
The wings folded inward — each feather a rune. His tail coiled, vanishing into shadow.
Light spiraled inward.
What remained was human in shape — but no human had such gravity.
Eyes like stilled galaxies. Dark hair swept by wind that didn't exist. Robes forming like gravity had dressed him.
Then he whispered.
"…Crimson."
The sky cracked open.
From above — a gleam of red fire.
Crimson descended — not in the shape of a beast, but in symbols of loyalty:
A long, single-eyed crimson sword, its hilt bound with oathfire.
A robe with burning feathers at the hem, its back patterned with golden wing sigils.
Twin rings of darkscale alloy, orbiting Milan's wrists.
Dragonforged boots that hummed softly when he moved.
"Crimson: Fully transformed into Living Relic."
"Bond established. Obedience absolute."
At his side, a spherical object pulsed into view.
Apple-sized. Metallic black. Glowing faint lines rotated around its core like rings of orbit.
It hovered in silence — then spoke.
"System Interface: Reinitialized.
Floating support object now active.
Voice configured for direct communication.
Master presence stabilized."
"…Better," Milan murmured.
He looked out toward the distant skyline.
The continent was waiting.
He had no name here.
Only purpose.
"Trial begins.
Master — welcome to the land of man, machine, and gods."
Chapter 44: The City Beneath the Sky
The sand under Milan's feet turned firmer as he walked inland.
Warm wind carried the scent of minerals, salt, and clean steam — not from nature, but industry. Distant hums echoed — like engines breathing.
He crested a low dune.
And saw the human continent for the first time.
Vast silver towers reached toward the sky, their tips vanishing into clouds. Glowing lines traced their edges like quiet veins. Airships crossed between them on invisible currents, leaving trails of light. The city was alive — not chaotic, not loud. Organized. Efficient. Watching.
[System Notice]
You are now within the outer perimeter of Prime Nexus — capital city of the Unified Human Realm.
Warning: Entire continent is under passive divine observation.
Caution advised during active authority use.
Milan didn't respond.
His eyes tracked a group of humans far ahead — clothed in robes that shimmered slightly, moving along a smooth transit bridge. Small floating drones hovered near them, displaying symbols and navigation paths. No guards. No visible weapons.
Just control.
[System Update]
Average citizen lifespan: 480 years.
Technological mastery: Complete integration of AI, biotech, and magic.
You are currently unregistered. Appearance: Human. Status: Undetected.
Recommendation: Remain observant. Engage only when necessary.
Milan narrowed his gaze.
The buildings, though towering, had no seams. Their surface shifted colors subtly in sunlight. A small hovercar buzzed past overhead — silent, sleek, driverless.
In the distance, a river ran through the city — but its waters sparkled faintly with mana threads.
"Even their rivers are structured," he muttered.
The floating system orb beside him tilted, as if agreeing.
"Human design is centered on layered order.
Surface calm — subsurface surveillance.
You are being watched, but not identified."
Milan glanced up. A faint ripple of energy crossed the sky dome.
A barrier.
[System Addendum]
City-wide surveillance powered by five satellite gods.
Currently uninterested in you. Recommended strategy: blend, observe, adapt.
He exhaled quietly.
"…Then I'll walk. Learn what they've built."
The wind shifted slightly as he stepped onto the metallic road — one that led directly toward the outer sector of the capital.
His shadow stretched behind him.
Not as a monarch.
Not yet.
Just a traveler.
A False Faith, A Forgotten Blessing
Milan stood silently beneath the hanging roof of the outer shrine.
Rain flickered through a transparent energy dome. His clothes were simple — faded, dust-marked robes, wrinkled from ocean winds. His face, transformed through draconic mastery, bore no trace of his true self. He looked… unremarkable. Exactly as intended.
The system hovered near his shoulder — a soft-blue sphere, faintly humming with data light.
[System Advisory]
Human civilization prioritizes biometric traceability.
Facial pattern, soul-thread, aura, and AI-linked profile will be scanned continuously.
Identity required.
"…Then we create one," Milan whispered.
[World System Synchronization…]
Solution: Enter Trial of Divine Grace — a rite for orphans and commoners.
If completed, you receive not only divine registry, but legal status and city access.
Milan nodded faintly.
"Good. Show me the path."
The trial site was a spire-temple — white stone laced with floating runes, guarded by robed priest-bots and elven overseers. Applicants waited in silence — mostly young. Orphans. Wanderers. Hopefuls. All yearning to be chosen by a god.
Milan stepped into the divine scanning chamber. No name. No lineage. No history. The priest at the entry narrowed his eyes.
"…Another stray?"
His assistant leaned in.
"Looks harmless enough."
The altar pulsed. Gold circuits spread. The judgment began.
[Initiating Divine Signature Sequence…]
Searching for compatible deity…
…
…
WARNING: System disruption detected.
Authority resonance too high.
Automatic fallback engaged…
Match Found: Fallen Pantheon — Blessing of the Lost Flame, Oathbreaker's Sight, and Chains of Ash.
The room darkened.
A hush fell across the sanctuary.
Milan opened his eyes — their irises momentarily flickering with deep violet flame.
The priests reeled back.
"…What—what is this?! A fallen's blessing—!?"
The high priest clutched his relic staff.
"That's… impossible. Those blessings haven't awakened in centuries."
Acolytes whispered behind their hands.
"Cursed. He'll bring ruin…"
"No one survives a fallen contract…"
"We should kill him before he grows—"
[System Correction]
Fallen Blessings: Rare. Not criminal.
Current world system status: Neutral. Equal trial protections in effect.
The High Pope raised a hand.
"No one will touch this child. Divine law declares all paths sacred until proven otherwise."
He approached Milan quietly.
"You… are not what you seem, are you?"
Milan said nothing.
The Pope stared deeper, then sighed.
"…Whatever your fate, child — walk carefully. Our kind has always feared what it cannot control."
They took him through the back sanctum.
Dim halls. Old murals. Forgotten idols.
A half-elf priestess and her human-elf mentor handed him a pack of credits, a simple ID scroll, and a hooded travel robe.
"Go," she said quietly. "They'll start whispering soon. They always do."
"We'll teleport you closer to the inner sectors. You'll be harder to trace there."
[System Confirmation]
Detected: both temple aides are human-elf hybrids.
Motivation: Empathy with outsiders. Rebellion against old doctrine.
The teleportation activated.
In a blink—Milan stood on a high platform overlooking the true heart of the continent.
And it was…
Beautiful.
Sky-trains glided between towers shaped like petals of steel. Drone-flocks danced through open sky-lanes. Lush green parks hovered between spires. Airbikes zipped below levitating billboards that shimmered with elven glyphs and glowing kanji. Holy satellites blinked overhead like digital stars.
The system hovered again.
[System Message]
Welcome to Central Nexus.
You are now legally human.
You may go anywhere.
Milan exhaled softly.
So this was the world the gods loved.
The system chimed again, quieter this time.
"You're not their enemy yet, master. But you are already beyond what they understand."
Milan didn't respond.
He simply stepped into the city — a ghost with a name, walking toward a future no one had written.
Scene: The Name of Light
The air shimmered slightly as Milan stepped from the shadowed arc of the teleportation gate into the glow of the city.
His appearance had changed again—now refined, deliberate. He wore the same youthful human guise he had first chosen: dark, thoughtful eyes; neat silver-black hair; features that could disappear in a crowd if he wished. The cloak that wrapped around him flowed naturally, but its weave carried dragon-borne magic and world-crafted threads.
Above him, the object that floated like a metallic fruit — polished, rounded, with shifting runes around its surface — remained silent.
Until Milan turned his eyes toward it.
"…You've done everything without asking for anything," he said quietly.
The object pulsed once with a gentle blue light, hovering steadily.
"I think it's time I gave you something, too."
The object stilled.
Milan spoke again, his voice like still water.
"Your name is Luxion."
"Light that walks beside possibility."
There was no reaction for a moment.
Then, like a whisper through the fabric of space, the object responded.
[Acknowledged: Designation confirmed.]
[System Signature Bound: Luxion.]
[Emotion Layer Loading: Recognition... Gratitude.]
Milan didn't smile, but something eased behind his gaze.
"…Thank you, Luxion."
The system — now Luxion — rotated once and replied in its usual factual cadence, but with something new in its tone.
[Master, I recommend acquiring currency. This world revolves around structured exchange. Monetary independence will increase mobility.]
"…Money, huh."
He looked down at his empty hands, then back toward the city skyline.
Scene: The City of Blended Ideals
What stretched before him was unlike anything Milan had seen — even in visions.
Floating highways veined the sky, carrying silent vehicles sculpted like arrows of light. Walkways curled upward like petals blooming across levels of glass. Trees shimmered with mana-fed leaves, and beneath their roots ran energy streams — glowing veins of magic braided into technological order.
People passed by, dressed in styles both old and new — some in long rune-stitched robes, others in tailored suits with glowing seams. A child ran by chasing a floating book, while her guardian whispered into a crystal ear-piece that lit up softly with divination runes.
No contradictions.
Magic and machinery spoke the same language here.
Luxion hovered at Milan's shoulder, silent.
Milan looked at the city — this vast continent of god-favored humans and elf-born wisdom — and felt the tug of something rare.
Not awe.
But… recognition.
[Observation: You are quiet, Master.]
Milan's voice was soft.
"…They built something beautiful."
There was no envy in his tone. Only understanding.
"…A place where faith and logic… didn't fight to the death."
He took a step forward onto the city's curved stone path, his boots barely echoing.
The city welcomed him in quiet lights and open signals.
The world was watching — and he was finally part of it.
Scene: The Gate Without Welcome
The city did not close its doors to Milan.
But it did not open many either.
He learned quickly: though he looked like a young man, walked like any other, and carried the world's most hidden authority under skin and thought, bureaucracy still functioned with brutal impartiality.
"Sorry, we can't process your application."
"No prior identification?"
"No national records?"
"No baseline schooling?"
"Are you… from the Outer Edge?"
The phrase carried weight — polite suspicion wrapped in administrative phrasing.
An orphan without credentials could not step into a university, or a government program, or a licensed research track. Even charity organizations politely denied long-term support.
Each building had gleaming towers and transparent glass; but every interface told him, again and again: Access Denied.
Scene: The Choice of Labor
Luxion hovered behind his shoulder as Milan sat on a public bench — surrounded by streaming people, glowing transports, and vendor drones offering mana-charged meals.
"…You're quiet," Milan muttered.
[Observation: Social progression barriers are logical given your profile.]
[However… alternative paths exist.]
Milan glanced sideways.
"Such as?"
[Magic labor sectors accept functional testing in place of formal education.]
[Some academies accept work-study programs — if the applicant demonstrates baseline casting or compatibility.]
Milan's fingers flexed slightly.
"…So I prove I can do what they need, and they hire me… as a cleaner."
[Correct. Or as a magical stabilizer, barrier worker, or relic hauler.]
He stood.
"Then let's try that."
Scene: The Worker's Gate of the Arcanum Institute
It was not the main entrance.
The Arcanum Institute was one of the continent's most revered magical institutes — its main tower visible even from distant blocks, crowned by glowing spires and protected by barriers of knowledge and faith.
Milan didn't walk toward the front steps.
He entered through the lower labor gate.
No stained-glass arch. No runic welcome.
Just a quiet door with a crystal-panel for volunteer scans and contract-stamped entry.
A sign above read:
"Part-Time Applicants: Submit Talent or Prepare for Menial Work."
Milan stepped forward, steady.
He was not here to be recognized.
He was here to observe.
To learn.
And quietly — inevitably — to rise.
Scene: The Test That Shouldn't Have Been Possible
The Arcanum Institute's worker-entry hall was nothing like the grand ceremonial chambers of the main tower.
No stained myth-runes.
No floating emblems.
Just clean floors, crystal slates, and a quiet line of applicants waiting for evaluation.
A bored examiner tapped a glyph-screen.
"Next."
Milan stepped forward.
Luxion hovered behind him like a silent star, emitting a soft, neutral hum.
The examiner didn't lift his eyes.
"Name?"
"Milan."
"Background?"
"…Orphan."
A brief pause.
The man sighed — as if he had heard this a hundred times.
"Fine. Spell compatibility first. Touch the crystal."
Milan placed his hand on the test orb.
The orb flashed—
—once,
—twice,
—and then burst into light that filled the room like a sunrise rupturing a building.
People gasped.
The examiner fell backward.
"W-What in the gods' names—!?"
The readings began outputting on the panel:
Elemental Affinity: ALL
Mana Resonance: MAXIMUM
Hidden Traits Detected: UNCLASSIFIED
Authority Signature Detected: FALLEN
Authority Strength: HIGH
User Danger Rating: UNSPECIFIED
Silence.
Then whispers.
"A-all affinities?! That's impossible—!"
"He's a universal caster…!"
"No, look — the reading says 'Authority'…"
"Fallens…?! But children chosen by them… they all die early, don't they?"
"No. Worse. They go mad."
"And they… they can't become officials."
"Or soldiers."
"Or anyone important."
The fear in the room shifted from shock — to superstition.
To prejudice.
To the coldness that only humans could wield with such precision:
"He should be removed."
"We can exile him before someone notices."
"Before he becomes a threat."
"Fallens chose him — nothing good ever comes from that."
Milan didn't react.
His expression remained calm, unreadable.
The charm of his face, the quiet nobility of his posture, only made people more uneasy.
Luxion murmured softly:
[Master, hostility rising. Correction: irrational hostility.]
The examiner swallowed hard and pressed a glyph.
"The Head Council… must see this."
Scene: Council Eyes That Cannot Help
Within minutes Milan was taken into a deeper wing of the institute — a place no normal labor applicant would ever step into.
Through a crystal wall, seven elders observed him.
They whispered among themselves, voices barely controlled.
"His mana quality is higher than an Archmage—"
"His compatibility surpasses the royal hero candidates."
"He has a sealed authority. And yet…"
"And yet the Fallen mark remains."
That last sentence settled like cold ash.
One councilwoman clenched the railing.
"…We could change everything with a student like him."
"Impossible. The law forbids touching the Fallen-blessed."
"What if he becomes unstable?"
"What if he curses the continent?"
"What if a god takes offense?"
"Do we want war with Heaven again?"
Their logic was sound.
Their fear was older than their laws.
In the end, one sentence killed every possibility:
"We can watch him—but officially, we can never help him."
Scene: A Beautiful Face, A Dangerous Aura
Even in silence, he made people uncomfortable.
His beauty was not normal — not soft or delicate, but inevitably present, like a quiet flame that drew moths even as they feared being burned.
His aura felt… heavy yet gentle.
Vast yet contained.
Like the world's weight condensed into a young man standing politely with his hands behind his back.
Even the council murmured:
"Why… why can't I take my eyes off him?"
"This charm… is this his Fallen mark?"
"No… it feels more like the world itself leaning toward him…"
"Ridiculous. The world only bends for creators."
The youngest councilman whispered what none of the others dared to think:
"…What if he is one?"
They ignored him.
Humans were rational.
They didn't believe in myths unless gods forced them to.
But the thought lingered like a forbidden candle flame.
Scene: Leaving the Chamber — Eyes That Follow
Milan stepped out from the evaluation room, his expression calm, posture unbroken.
But behind him, the murmurs had not stopped.
Some were fearful.
Some hateful.
Some fascinated.
And somewhere, hidden behind mirrored glass, an elder whispered:
"…Watch him.
If he grows… the gods may intervene."
Luxion floated at Milan's shoulder like a silent guardian star.
[Master, recommend increased caution.]
[Hostility level: moderate.]
[Observation: Even council members fear Fallen authority.]
Milan nodded once.
"I expected as much."
His voice was steady, but Luxion detected an unspoken line beneath the words.
[Emotional signature detected: Mild irritation.]
[Reason: Prejudice based on non-logical superstition.]
"…Yes," Milan said softly. "Humans fear what they cannot explain."
He wasn't angry.
Only thoughtful.
Like someone who saw the world with a wider lens than those trapped inside it.
Scene: A Shadow Observes
As Milan walked through the institute's outer courtyard, a figure leaned silently on a balcony rail above.
A young woman—black hair tied with a silver band, a uniform bearing the insignia of the Arcane Security Division—watched him with sharp, analytical eyes.
A surveillance familiar hovered beside her.
"No records…
No origin…
All affinities…
And Fallen-marked?" she whispered.
She didn't sound afraid.
She sounded intrigued.
"…You are interesting."
Luxion flicked an invisible scan toward the balcony.
[Warning: High-level observer detected.]
[Do not initiate conflict.]
Milan didn't even glance up.
"I wasn't planning to."
He stepped into the shadowed corridor leading to the worker assignment office.
Behind him, the observer smiled faintly.
"…I think I'll keep watching you."
Scene: Assignment — Magical Device Engineering Unit
The labor coordinator looked Milan up and down, then at the impossible evaluation report.
"…You can't be a mage."
Milan raised a brow. "Why?"
"You have the Fallen mark," the man replied bluntly. "Legally, we can't place you in military magic, research magic, or divine magic. Only neutral work sectors are allowed."
The coordinator scrolled his crystal panel.
"Hm…
We do need help in Magical Device Engineering."
Milan tilted his head. "…Engineering?"
"Yeah. Machines that handle magic stones, spell-cores, ship engines, enchanted weapons—those we can legally let Fallen-marked individuals touch. No gods care about industry."
Luxion hummed.
[Master, this aligns with your goal: unobtrusive integration.]
Milan nodded. "I accept."
The coordinator stamped a glowing sigil onto his wrist.
"Welcome to Engineering Unit B-12.
Report at dawn."
Scene: First Steps Into the Workshop
The Magical Device Engineering Wing was enormous:
conveyor lines of floating components
robotic arms assembling spell cores
mana furnaces glowing like captured suns
technicians monitoring energy flows
cyborg mages plugging neural jacks into machinery
Milan watched everything carefully.
"This world relies on machines… not manual magic."
Luxion hovered beside him.
[Correction: Machines handle physical work.]
[Only consciousness can handle magic.]
[Magic is a consciousness-based phenomenon.]
Milan thought about it.
"…So humans can live 500 years because technology preserves the brain. They don't need the body."
[Affirmative.]
[Magic responds only to consciousness and authority.]
[Even cyborgs use magic through preserved or augmented minds.]
Milan walked past a massive forging machine where android arms fitted magic stones into a starship engine.
"Interesting," he murmured.
He observed:
Drones farming fields using mana-powered tools
Robots carrying crates of ores
AI systems calculating elemental balance
Human technicians only stepping in to imbue magic or perform authority-level adjustments
The division of labor was clear:
Machines do everything physical.
Humans do everything magical.
Luxion lowered its floating orbit slightly.
[Master… you are far stronger than any machine or human here.]
Milan's gaze stayed forward.
"That is why I must blend in quietly."
His voice was calm.
Clear.
Almost emotionless.
But deep beneath it—
Luxion detected something warm.
[Emotional signature detected: subtle excitement.]
Milan blinked.
"…Is that so?"
[Yes. You are curious.]
Milan finally allowed a faint, rare smile.
"…Maybe I am."
He looked over the glowing metropolis visible through the workshop's wide glass walls:
Hover trains gliding through sky bridges.
Light runes reflecting on skyscrapers.
People walking beneath neon trees.
AI holograms adapting the air.
Magic and science intertwined seamlessly.
"…A beautiful world," he whispered.
Luxion glowed softly.
[Indeed, Master.]
Scene: Meeting the Workshop Crew
The Magical Device Engineering Unit was busier than Milan expected.
Sparks from enchantment welders, drones hovering with mana compartments, dwarven workers arguing with cyborg inspectors — it was a chaotic symphony.
A stout figure waved at him.
"Oi! New kid! Over here!"
A dwarf — barely chest-high to Milan — looked him up and down with experienced eyes.
Thick beard braided with silver rings.
Broad shoulders.
Arms like enchanted hammers.
"I'm Baruk Ironweave. Senior Craft-Technician."
He squinted.
"You're the orphan with full affinity and Fallen blessing, eh?"
Milan nodded calmly. "Yes."
Baruk whistled low.
"Dangerous combination. Humans probably tryna kill you already."
He slapped Milan's arm like old friends.
"Don't worry, lad. Dwarves don't judge unless your forging sucks."
Milan blinked once.
"…Understood."
Baruk laughed loud enough to shake the floor.
Scene: A Truth About the Human Continent
Baruk led Milan past rows of half-constructed engines and magical resistors.
"You know, kid… humans don't have magic stones here."
Milan paused. "None?"
"ZERO."
Baruk raised a finger dramatically.
"This whole shiny metal continent you're seeing?
Not a single mana-active stone in its soil."
Luxion hovered close.
[Master, this aligns with geological scans.]
Baruk continued while tapping a floating console.
"You wanna know why?"
Milan nodded.
Baruk leaned in with a conspiratorial tone.
"This whole planet is a dragon."
Milan stayed expressionless.
Baruk grinned.
"Thought you'd react more.
Anyway— the whole world's magic comes from the dragon veins — blood-streams of the planetary dragon."
Luxion whispered:
[Explanation: The planet's 'founder consciousness' distributes magic through its veins.]
[Human continent = located at the 'brain' region.]
Baruk nodded vigorously.
"Exactly! That's why humans so damned smart.
Highest natural intelligence after dragons."
Milan remained silent — he was that dragon's heir, after all.
Baruk kept talking, oblivious.
"But the downside? Brain region has lowest magic concentration.
Almost no raw mana. No natural stones. No enchanted ores."
He scratched his beard.
"That's why we dwarves came. Humans can't control magic minerals properly. Machines go crazy if they touch too much mana — circuits fry, metals mutate, the whole thing explodes."
He pointed to a half-melted robot in a corner.
"That one touched a raw mana stone for 3 seconds. Poof."
Scene: Why Dwarves Are Needed
Baruk hauled Milan toward a device that looked half magical furnace, half AI-driven forge.
"You see machines doing most physical work?" Baruk said.
"That's because of magic paint coating."
He tapped a glossy metallic pipe.
"This thin coat keeps machines from turning into mana monsters."
Milan raised a brow. "…Like rust?"
Baruk slapped his thigh laughing.
"Yes! Like magical rust!
Magic corrodes machines if not controlled."
Luxion hummed.
[Confirmed: Magical ionization destabilizes technological circuits.]
Baruk continued:
"That's why humans need us dwarves — we craft mana-resistant alloys.
They handle tech, we handle magic metals.
Perfect teamwork."
He smirked proudly.
"And humans treat us equal. Better than any other continent. So we help."
Milan listened quietly.
Baruk leaned close again.
"And kid? About your Fallen blessing…"
He lowered his voice.
"Humans overreact. In demon lands, Fallen-blessed folks are heroes.
Here? They think it's doom. Stupid superstition."
He shrugged.
"But don't worry. You got a good face and a calm aura.
People'll trust you even if they don't want to."
Milan blinked.
"…That's not reassuring."
Baruk cackled.
Scene: News of a Rampaging Monarch
While Baruk was showing him mana tools, a group of workers whispered nearby:
"Did you hear? The Dragon Monarch rampaged again yesterday."
"A whole vein collapsed!"
"Tsk. When will dragons stop losing their minds?"
"They say he's searching for his lost child…"
Milan stiffened.
Baruk raised his hands. "Ignore them. Humans don't know the truth."
Luxion whispered softly.
[Master, your father's rage is still recorded as ongoing.
But the world system has already resolved it.]
Milan nodded to himself.
"…They do not need to know."
Scene: How Humans Obtain Magic Resources
Baruk wiped sweat from his brow.
"Since we don't have magic stones here, we import them."
He held up one glowing stone.
"Demon continent has the best ores. They allow humans to mine under strict contracts — and pay expensive fees."
He tossed the stone and caught it.
"Humans also try to make artificial magic stones, but—"
He squeezed the stone.
"Quality is absolute crap. Chews through mana and blows up."
Luxion added:
[Artificial mana stones efficiency: 23%. Natural stones: 97%.]
Milan folded his arms.
"So this continent is advanced… but magically disadvantaged."
Baruk nodded.
"That's why human tech looks insane compared to other races.
They compensate through science."
He gestured at the enormous industrial city through the glass window:
Sky highways.
Hover trams.
Cyborg workers.
Magic-tech reactors.
Neon towers.
Digital shrines.
Baruk grinned.
"Welcome to the smartest — and most magic-starved — land in the world."
Scene: The First Task, and a Malfunction That Shouldn't Be Possible
The Magical Device Engineering Unit had a quiet hum — drones hovering, gears aligning, enchantment furnaces glowing. Workers moved with confidence.
Milan was assigned his first task:
mana stabilization work on a hybrid-tech lifting golem.
Baruk slapped a clipboard into his hands.
"Just tune the mana channels. Don't blow it up. Or do. Would be fun."
Milan: "I would prefer not to."
Baruk: "Aye. Figures."
Milan stepped toward the machine — a towering, twenty-meter industrial golem designed to move city scaffolds.
Luxion floated at his shoulder like a quiet glowing orb.
[Master, this machine's mana density is higher than regulations allow.]
Milan whispered, "Meaning it can malfunction?"
[Meaning it should not be active at all.]
Milan touched the metal plating.
A faint shiver.
A tremor.
Then—
BOOM!
The golem jolted awake, sparks flying.
Steel arms swung wildly, smashing consoles and drones.
Workers screamed.
"SHUT IT DOWN!"
"It's going berserk—!"
"THE MANA CHANNELS REVERSED!"
Baruk shouted:
"EVERYONE, BACK!!"
But it was too late —
the golem raised an arm, glowing with stolen magic energy.
A blast was forming.
Luxion whispered calmly:
[Master. If it explodes, this entire floor collapses.]
Milan exhaled.
"…Understood."
He moved calmly, almost slowly —
yet reached the golem faster than human eyes could track.
As the metallic hand descended—
Crimson awakened.
Milan's hand flashed crimson-red.
Sword form unfolded in a single ripple:
—one long crimson blade
—covered in draconic runes
—sharpened past reality
—eager to serve its King.
Milan whispered:
"Crimson. Partial release."
SWOOSH—!!
A half-circle of red light tore through the malfunctioning golem —
so smooth that the metal didn't fall until Milan had already sheathed the blade of light.
For a heartbeat, time froze.
Then—
KRRRSTCHHH—
BOOOOM!
The golem collapsed in two perfect pieces.
No explosion.
No mana backlash.
No casualties.
Just silence.
And one very stunned dwarf.
Baruk's jaw hung open.
"…You… you cut a twenty-ton enchanted industrial golem… in motion?"
Another engineer whispered:
"He… half-sliced it. In a single draw."
Someone else gulped:
"That's not tech… that's not magic… what is that?"
Luxion floated beside Milan with a cheerful chime.
[Master, Crimson is extremely pleased.]
Crimson, in sword form, hummed softly —
a draconic purr only Milan understood.
Scene: The Supervisor Arrives
A stern voice echoed from the walkway above.
"…Who did that?"
The entire workshop bowed their heads.
A tall man in a sleek high-rank coat descended the stairs.
Silver-rimmed glasses.
Sharp eyes.
Authority dripping from every step.
Vice Head of Engineering: Professor Lumerian Astra.
His eyes scanned the destroyed machine…
then landed on Milan.
"You. Step forward."
Milan stepped calmly.
"Yes."
Lumerian studied him like an artifact.
"You resolved a catastrophic mana feedback by… splitting the core structure."
Milan said nothing.
Lumerian adjusted his glasses.
"That technique—
it was neither human swordsmanship, nor elven arts, nor dwarven forging magic."
He leaned closer.
"What are you?"
Milan blinked slowly.
"…An orphan."
Baruk snorted so loudly he nearly swallowed his beard.
Lumerian's eyebrow twitched.
Luxion floated in front of Milan protectively.
[Master's identity is secured. Respond minimally.]
Milan nodded subtly.
Lumerian stepped back and exhaled.
"Very well.
From this moment onward, you are assigned to Division A-01: Special Engineering Projects."
The entire workshop gasped.
"That's the highest division!"
"It's impossible for a newcomer!"
"EVEN dwarves rarely get there!"
"A Fallen-blessed orphan—?? How!?"
Lumerian cut them off:
"He saved all of you.
That is enough."
He turned to Milan.
"You report tomorrow morning."
Then he left without waiting for reply.
Scene: Reactions and Quiet Acknowledgment
Baruk grabbed Milan's shoulders.
"Kid! You just got promoted past 90% of the staff on DAY ONE!"
Milan replied calmly:
"I only prevented unnecessary damage."
Baruk barked a laugh.
"You prevented HALF THE WORKSHOP FROM DYING!"
Another dwarf whispered:
"I've never seen a human move like that…"
A cyborg muttered:
"That sword… it felt alive."
They weren't wrong.
Crimson hummed faintly.
Luxion whispered softly:
[Master. You have successfully established a non-suspicious public skillset:
'Precision magic-engineering combat.']
Milan nodded.
"That works."
Scene: Alone on the Balcony
When the shift ended, Milan stepped onto an outer balcony of the megacity.
Night lights glowed across steel towers.
Flying ships drifted like stars.
Magic and tech pulsed together in harmony.
He looked at his reflection in a glass panel.
The face he chose.
Human. Calm. Ordinary.
Luxion floated gently beside him.
[Master. Your presence is stabilizing.
Even here, where magic is weak.]
Milan's voice was soft.
"…Chronoa might be training right now."
Luxion chimed.
[Emotional resonance detected from Frost Realm:
faint longing.]
Milan closed his eyes.
"…I'll finish this trial quickly."
[Affirmative.]
The city lights reflected in his eyes —
a human city, a human identity, a human trial.
But beneath that calm,
beneath the heartbeat,
beneath the new name…
was the Monarch King.
And the world itself knew it.
Scene: A Room With a View
By evening, word of Milan's stunt had spread through the entire Engineering Wing.
Half the staff insisted on paying him back somehow.
So they pooled their credits and booked him a room in a reputable inn —
a tall glass tower overlooking the neon-blue river that cut through the city.
The receptionist bowed deeply.
"Room 47-F. Skyline balcony. Paid in full by the Engineering Unit.
Your coworkers insisted."
Milan blinked.
"…I see."
Luxion floated beside him, light dim and polite.
[Master, statistically this gesture indicates high acceptance.]
Milan walked into the room.
Clean white sheets.
A soft mana lamp.
Holographic curtains.
A wide balcony overlooking the glittering megacity —
traffic flowing like veins of light.
He stepped outside.
Wind brushed his hair.
The city was a blend of magic sigils and electric halos —
alive, breathing, intelligent.
Luxion hovered beside him silently for a moment… then spoke.
[Master… there is something crucial you must know.]
Milan looked toward the small floating orb.
"…What?"
Luxion's light dimmed, serious.
[You are radiating pure magic.]
Milan froze.
[Even when transformed into human, your core leaks mana of a purity that does not exist in this continent.]
Luxion projected a tiny hologram —
a simulation of Milan standing in the street.
Machines nearby became unstable.
Robots jittered.
Sensors flickered.
A vending drone's flight pattern twisted unpredictably.
Luxion continued:
[Even a trace of your true aura can make machines lose control within seconds.]
[This continent is too weak in mana to withstand your presence.]
Milan narrowed his eyes.
"So… I need a vessel."
[Correct.]
[A tool, garment, or artifact strong enough to contain your aura and filter it.]
Milan looked down at Crimson's ring form on his finger.
"…Crimson alone can't suppress it."
Crimson hummed faintly in agreement.
Luxion concluded:
[We must acquire compatible human tools or craft new ones.]
Milan nodded.
"…Tomorrow then. After reporting to Division A-01."
Scene: Morning in the Human World
He slept barely four hours — dragons did not need rest, even in restrained form.
Morning arrived with golden city light spilling across the balcony.
Milan sat in the inn's small café, observing humans around him:
– students in glowing uniforms
– cyborgs adjusting mana interfaces
– human-elf couples chatting peacefully
– drones serving breakfast with quiet grace
Milan ate a simple meal —
mana bread, fruit infused with bio-energy, and tea brewed under floating runes.
Luxion hovered like a soft lantern.
[Master, you observe quietly.]
"Everything here is built on harmony… mixed with hidden tension."
[Correct.]
Milan watched a priest bless a child with weak divine magic.
Others bowed respectfully.
Humans loved gods.
And gods loved humans.
But Fallen blessing?
That was different.
Scene: Return to Arcanum Institute — Division A-01
When Milan arrived at the institute, security tightened noticeably.
Scanning drones passed over him.
His fake ID (crafted by Luxion) held perfectly.
[Identity: Orphan. Status: Worker. Clearance: A-01 verified.]
The doors opened.
Inside was Division A-01 —
a vast laboratory filled with:
– floating spell reactors
– AI-driven mana coils
– transparent forges
– holographic blueprints
– researchers wearing silver sigils
Two individuals approached.
1. Serene Valehart — Spell Engineer
A calm woman with sharp amber eyes and short white-blonde hair.
Her aura carried quiet authority.
"Welcome, Milan. I'm Serene. I'll be your evaluator."
2. Yven Cross — Combat Mechanist
Tall, messy-haired, eyes always half-asleep but unmistakably sharp.
He carried a half-built weapon over his shoulder.
"Yo. New kid with the fancy sword. Don't break anything."
Serene gave Yven a cold stare.
He shrugged.
Scene: The First Mission
Serene handed Milan a crystal tablet.
"We have a problem. A patrol ship stalled mid-air. Its mana core destabilized."
Yven added:
"Normally, we'd send a team. But the core's resonance is abnormal. Humans can't get near it."
Serene's eyes rested on Milan.
"You can."
Milan calmly nodded.
"…Understood."
But Luxion flickered suddenly.
[Warning. Hidden presence detected.]
Milan paused in mid-step.
[Identity: Unknown. Location: Temple surveillance network.]
[Emotion signature: hostile curiosity.]
Milan narrowed his eyes.
"…Someone is watching me."
Serene and Yven didn't hear him — they were already discussing the mission route.
Luxion whispered urgently:
[Master. Your Fallen blessing has been detected by the Church of First Light.]
[They consider Fallen-blessed individuals a threat.]
Milan's voice was quiet.
"…A secret church?"
[Yes.]
[And they do not forgive those touched by the Fallen.]
Milan stepped forward toward the airship hangar.
His expression remained calm.
But the light behind his eyes darkened slightly.
"Luxion."
[Yes, Master.]
"Monitor their movement."
[Understood.]
The first mission had begun.
And already —
the continent was trying to swallow him whole.
Scene: The Stalled Airship
The Arcanum Institute's upper hangar opened like a massive steel jaw, revealing the floating patrol ship stationed in mid-air.
Its engines flickered.
Magic coils pulsed irregularly.
A faint ringing noise echoed across the dock — the sound of a mana core on the verge of deranging.
Serene adjusted her gloves and glanced at Milan.
"Keep your distance at first. Observe the resonance pattern."
Milan nodded.
Yven leaned over the railing with a lazy grin.
"If the ship explodes, run."
Serene smacked his arm.
Milan boarded silently.
The floor vibrated beneath him — the entire ship was unstable, mana shaking like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
Luxion hovered low.
[Master. Core instability is not mechanical.]
[It is reacting to your presence.]
Milan stepped closer.
The engine's glow shifted, pulsing in sync with his heartbeat.
Serene frowned from the dock.
"…Why is the resonance increasing? Does it recognize him?"
Luxion whispered:
[The core is an artificial mana chamber.
It should not respond to sentient aura.
Yet it is aligning with yours.]
Milan placed a hand near the chamber — not touching, just sensing.
The core calmed instantly.
The ringing noise stopped.
The magic coils aligned.
Milan lowered his hand.
"…It stabilized."
Serene looked stunned.
"That shouldn't be possible. Only high-tier authority wielders can calm a mana chamber."
Yven blinked.
"Did you just… talk a ship into behaving?"
Milan stepped off the airship quietly.
"I simply resonated with it."
They stared at him.
Luxion chimed softly:
[Master, your presence corrects unstable magic by default.
The world recognizes its Monarch.]
Milan ignored the last sentence.
Scene: Serene's Suspicion
Serene walked beside Milan, her expression thoughtful, almost scientific.
"Your magic… it doesn't feel like Fallen corruption."
Milan tilted his head. "Does Fallen magic feel different?"
She nodded.
"Fallen magic usually feels heavy. Tainted. Like pressure."
She studied him.
"But yours feels… clearer. Like clean water."
Yven chimed in:
"Yeah, actually—your aura's kinda comfortable. Weird, right?"
Serene whispered under her breath:
"Not Fallen… not divine… what ARE you?"
Milan did not answer.
Luxion subtly deployed a tiny barrier against probing scans.
[Unwanted analysis blocked.]
Serene blinked, sensing the interference — but kept quiet.
Scene: A Presence in the Shadows
Near the far side of the hangar, behind the shimmering barrier walls, a figure watched.
Their hood was white.
Their gloves stitched in golden thread.
The insignia on their wrist was a circle pierced by a single spear.
The Church of First Light.
A whisper echoed from a hidden communicator:
"Target confirmed.
A Fallen-marked boy with anomalous resonance."
Another voice replied:
"Maintain observation.
Do not engage until we have doctrinal approval."
The figure's eyes narrowed at Milan.
"…A corruption hiding under human skin."
Scene: Crimson Reacts
As Milan walked back toward the institute corridor, Crimson's ring on his finger pulsed.
A soft, violent hum — quiet enough for only Milan to sense.
Milan murmured, "Crimson… calm."
The hum softened, but did not fade.
Luxion floated closer.
[Master, Crimson has detected hostile intent.]
[Location: Upper hangar shadows.]
Milan didn't turn around.
"…Church members?"
[Probability: 91%.]
Milan walked calmly, unhurried.
Serene and Yven followed him, discussing the mission's report, oblivious.
Crimson whispered from the ring:
"Master. Shall I erase them…?"
Milan's tone was soft.
"Not yet."
Crimson went silent.
Scene: Mission Report and A New Order
Back in Division A-01's main chamber, Serene placed her crystal tablet on the table.
"Milan, you're cleared for advanced tasks."
Yven nodded.
"Yeah. You're basically a walking mana stabilizer. Useful."
Serene added quietly:
"…Also dangerous. But useful."
Milan accepted the new identification badge Luxion forged into his profile instantly.
Serene looked at him again — this time, more seriously.
"Milan… if you ever feel something is wrong with your magic, tell me.
We'll manage it together."
Milan nodded politely.
Yven stretched.
"Good. Now let's grab lunch. I'm starving."
Milan walked with them toward the cafeteria…
unaware that two different forces were closing around him:
— the Arcanum Institute trying to recruit him
— and the Church of First Light preparing to eliminate him
Only Luxion knew.
Only Crimson waited.
And Milan, walking calmly in his human guise, felt the faint echo of Chronoa's longing across the continent.
"…I'll return after the trial," he murmured internally.
Luxion glowed.
[She heard you, Master.]
Scene: The Researcher Who Should Have Died
Division A-01 was unusually busy the next morning.
Researchers rushed between holographic screens.
Mana furnaces hissed.
Cyborg inspectors argued with spell engineers.
Milan stepped in quietly, Luxion hovering behind him like a small star.
Serene greeted him with a nod.
"Milan, today you'll help calibrate a volatile artifact.
Keep your distance at first."
Yven slapped a metal crate.
"We're testing a prototype mana extractor. Don't touch it unless it tries to kill someone."
It tried.
Immediately.
The moment the artifact activated, its crystal chamber cracked—
mana surged wildly—
and a young researcher standing closest froze in panic.
"Shut it off!"
"I—I can't—!"
"MOVE AWAY—!"
The artifact pulsed once—
and exploded outward like a wave of compressed space.
Luxion's voice sharpened:
[Master! Lethal impact in 0.7 seconds.]
No time.
Milan moved.
Not fast for a dragon.
But impossibly fast for a human.
He crossed the lab, grabbed the researcher's collar, and yanked him away—
just as the mana wave burst.
But it never hit Milan.
The unstable magic touched his aura—
and calmed instantly.
Like gentle water rippling around stone.
The explosion transformed into harmless frost crystals drifting through the air.
Everyone froze.
Yven's jaw dropped.
"…What… did you just do?"
Serene stepped forward, wide-eyed.
"The artifact's feedback stabilized… on contact with you."
The researcher trembled.
"You saved my life…"
Milan simply let go of him.
"You should check the resonance lines. They're misaligned."
Serene stared like she'd seen a myth walk into her lab.
"…That wasn't Fallen magic."
Milan blinked. "Was it supposed to be?"
Serene whispered:
"No. It was… purifying."
Scene: The Undercover Priest
While the lab buzzed with chaos and awe, someone new entered Division A-01.
A young man with soft blue eyes, modest robes, and polite posture.
"Ah, apologies for intruding," he bowed gently. "I am Ion. Assigned here as a mana ethicist."
Serene welcomed him automatically.
"A priest of the First Light Church? Here?"
"Yes. Routine evaluations."
Ion smiled kindly.
"I hope we work well together."
Then his gaze drifted—
almost too naturally—
toward Milan.
Luxion whispered:
[Alert. New presence: False identity detected.]
[Real affiliation: Church of First Light — Purification Division.]
[Intent: Observe. Evaluate. If necessary… eliminate.]
Milan didn't react outwardly.
Ion approached with a warm smile.
"You must be Milan. The new worker."
He offered a handshake.
"I've heard you're… exceptional."
Milan accepted the handshake calmly.
"Just doing my job."
But Ion's smile deepened slightly.
He felt Milan's aura.
His fingers trembled.
"…Such…clarity…"
His voice dropped without meaning to.
"This is not Fallen corruption.
This is—"
Luxion pulsed—
[Barrier deployed.]
Ion blinked, thrown out of the sensation.
His eyes sharpened—just for a second.
Then he smiled again, gentler than before.
"My apologies. You're… interesting."
Yven groaned.
"Great, another person obsessed with him."
Serene folded her arms.
"Be careful with our worker, priest."
Ion bowed politely.
"Of course."
But his eyes lingered on Milan.
Not with suspicion.
Not with anger.
With something far more dangerous:
Reverent fear.
As if Milan contradicted everything the Church believed.
Scene: The Report That Should Not Exist
Ion returned to his temporary quarters late at night.
He closed the door gently.
The polite smile faded.
His hands trembled slightly as he activated a holographic sigil —
a private communication line only high-ranking church operatives possessed.
A cold voice answered.
"Status report."
Ion took a steady breath.
"…I have confirmed the target."
A pause.
"Does he display Fallen corruption?"
Ion swallowed hard.
"…No."
Silence.
Only soft static.
Then:
"Explain."
Ion's hands clenched.
"I touched his aura directly.
It is not Fallen… not divine… not mortal… not anything recorded."
His voice shook despite his discipline.
"It felt… pure.
Too pure."
Static sharpened.
"Purity is a divine trait, not a Fallen one."
Ion stared at the floor.
"…This purity is not divine either."
Silence again.
Ion continued, whispering:
"It is above divinity.
Like the world itself bowed to him."
The voice on the other side stiffened.
"…Impossible."
Ion shut his eyes tightly.
"I felt it.
His presence cleansed unstable mana.
It calmed a deranged artifact.
Even the air responds to him."
A soft, terrified breath escaped him.
"…If this is Fallen, then the Church's doctrine is wrong."
The voice darkened.
"We do not question doctrine."
Ion straightened, stiff.
"Yes, Overseer."
The voice continued:
"Prepare a Purification Test."
Ion froze.
"Purification…?
But Overseer… those tests kill Fallen-blessed individuals."
"If the boy survives, he is holy.
If he dies, he was a monster."
Ion lowered his head.
"…Understood."
The connection cut.
Ion exhaled shakily.
"…Milan… what are you?"
Scene: A Warning From Luxion
Milan slept lightly — he did not need rest, but he maintained human habits to blend in.
At dawn, as city lights slowly dimmed and morning sky brightened, Luxion pulsed beside his bed.
[Master. A threat has been authorized.]
Milan opened his eyes immediately.
"…The Church?"
[Correct.
Operator 'Ion' reported your existence.
The Church has sanctioned a Purification Test.]
Milan sat upright.
"A ritual designed to kill Fallen-blessed."
[Affirmative.]
[Tests infuse concentrated divine mana and doctrinal pressure.]
[It destroys targets with corrupted or unstable magic.]
Milan's expression didn't change.
"Will it kill me?"
[…No.]
Luxion added, voice lower:
[However… if you resist incorrectly, you may expose your true nature.]
Milan stood slowly, stretching like any normal teenager would.
"I see."
He walked to the balcony.
Airships traced blue lines across the morning sky.
The city hummed with life.
And somewhere beneath the surface, the Church prepared a trap.
Luxion floated beside him.
[Master… proceed cautiously.]
Milan nodded.
"I always do."
Scene: A Ripple Across the Frost Continent
Far away, in the cold heart of the Frost Realm,
Chronoa knelt beneath the Holy Frost Tree, stabilizing the mana flow with tiny dragon claws.
Freyin the small Ice Spirit perched on her head like a glittering bird.
"You're working so hard, Queen Chronoa!"
Freyin chirped proudly.
"The tree looks so healthy—!"
Chronoa's expression suddenly shifted.
She stiffened.
"…Milan."
Freyin blinked. "Huh?"
Chronoa pressed a claw to her chest.
A faint ache.
A ripple of unease.
Like cold air brushing through her heart.
"…He's in danger."
The Ancient Ice Spirit materialized behind her.
"You felt it too."
Chronoa's eyes glowed silver-blue.
"I promised him I would wait…
but if something threatens him—"
The spirit shook his head gently.
"You cannot leave.
The Frost Tree still needs you.
And the trial forbids you from crossing realms."
Chronoa clenched her small fists.
"…I hate this trial."
Freyin hugged her tiny horn.
"We can pray for him!
I'm sure your King is strong!"
Chronoa looked away, voice quiet and trembling.
"…Yes.
He is."
But worry still flickered in her eyes.
Scene: The Invitation Wrapped in Deception
When Milan entered the Arcanum Institute the next morning, he noticed something odd.
People avoided eye contact.
Whispers followed him.
Serene approached him with a tablet in hand, frowning.
"Milan… a message came from the Temple Division for you."
Milan raised a brow. "Temple?"
She nodded.
"They said your magic evaluation was incomplete."
Her eyes narrowed.
"It's suspicious. Evaluations don't require temple involvement."
Yven leaned over.
"Yeah, the Temple folks barely show up for actual priests, let alone workers."
Milan kept his face expressionless.
"…I'll go."
Serene grabbed his arm.
"Wait— something is off.
Let me accompany—"
Luxion pulsed quietly.
[Master. Danger level: high.]
[But revealing concern will draw attention.]
Milan gently removed her hand.
"I'll be back."
Serene looked troubled, but nodded.
"…Be careful."
Scene: The Purification Chamber
The Temple Annex behind the institute looked harmless — pristine white walls, golden windows, soft glowing runes.
Inside, a single person waited.
Ion.
He wore simpler robes this time.
He smiled gently.
"Milan. Thank you for coming. This is a routine purity resonance test."
Luxion murmured:
[False. Test is lethal to Fallen-marked.]
Milan simply nodded once.
Ion tried to maintain his calm, but his eyes wavered.
"…Please step into the circle."
Milan walked to the center.
A glowing circular sigil was carved into the floor, shaped like a halo broken in three places.
Luxion whispered:
[Divine pressure field detected.
Intensity: lethal to normal humans.]
Ion hesitated.
"Milan… if you feel uncomfortable, say something."
Milan looked at him quietly.
"I'll be fine."
Ion swallowed hard.
"…Begin the rite."
Scene: Divine Pressure
The runes activated.
A golden column descended from above —
soft at first, then crushing.
A weight like the heavens collapsing.
Walls shook.
Light distorted.
Air froze.
This was divine authority.
Not magic.
Not human.
Pure judgment.
Ion's hands trembled.
"…Divine Light… descend…"
The pressure intensified.
Any normal Fallen-blessed human would have screamed.
Collapsed.
Died.
Milan simply stood there.
His hair stirred slightly.
His posture did not shift.
His heartbeat did not change.
Luxion hovered, watching data.
[Master's vitals stable.]
[Divine force being absorbed naturally.]
Ion stared in horror.
"…That's impossible."
The divine light pushed harder —
enough to crack stone.
Milan calmly raised his hand.
The golden pressure hit his palm—
—and vanished.
Like mist swept aside.
Ion's breath caught.
"…H…how…?"
The divine runes flickered violently.
Then—
CRACK—!!
The entire purification circle shattered like fragile glass.
Light scattered.
Silence followed.
Ion fell to his knees, stunned.
"The divine test… broke first…
It chose you over itself…"
Milan stepped out of the circle.
"Is the evaluation complete?"
Ion stared up at him, shaken to his core.
"…You… aren't Fallen."
His voice was a whisper of fear and awe.
"You aren't divine either."
He swallowed.
"…What ARE you?"
Milan didn't answer.
Scene: The Overseer's Realization
In the Church's headquarters, a nun burst into the Overseer's chamber, pale and sweating.
"Overseer! Report from Ion…"
She handed over the shattered rune crystal — the artifact recording Milan's test.
It was cracked open.
Burned white at the center.
The Overseer frowned.
"What happened to the Purification Circle?"
"…It ascended."
The Overseer froze.
"…Ascended?"
"Yes. The divine light did not kill him…
it submitted."
The Overseer stared at the broken crystal.
"…A mortal cannot cause divine resonance shift.
Not even a Fallen."
Her voice softened with dread.
"…Unless he outranks gods."
Scene: Ion's Inner Conflict
Ion walked Milan out quietly.
No hostility.
No deception.
Just… confusion.
"Milan… I gave the Church my report."
He hesitated.
"I told them you are not corrupted."
Milan looked at him, calm.
"You didn't have to."
Ion shook his head.
"I did. Because you're not what they think you are.
You're not dangerous… not evil… not Fallen."
Luxion whispered:
[Inaccurate but harmless conclusion.]
Ion continued, voice trembling with sincerity:
"If they try to test you again… I'll stand with you."
Milan blinked.
"…Why?"
Ion looked him in the eyes.
"Because for the first time in my life…
I saw divinity bend."
His voice softened.
"And it bent toward you."
He bowed deeply.
"…I don't know who or what you are.
But I think… you're someone this world needs."
Milan said nothing.
Luxion simply floated between them, quiet.
Scene: Chronoa Reacts
In the Frost Realm, Chronoa paused mid-training.
A faint warmth touched her heart.
Freyin looked up.
"Queen Chronoa? Are you alright?"
She pressed a claw over her chest.
"…Milan is safe."
The Ancient Ice Spirit smiled faintly.
"You felt his core stabilize?"
Chronoa nodded slowly.
Tears shimmered in her eyes.
"…He's alive.
And the world itself protected him."
She exhaled in relief —
for the first time since he left.
Scene: A Name Spreads Like a Quiet Fire
The purification test ended silently —
but the effects did not.
By midday, whispers had already begun sliding through the institute's halls.
"Hey, did you hear?"
"That worker from Division A-01…"
"They say a divine test didn't kill him."
"No, more than that— the circle shattered on him."
"Is that even possible?"
Someone whispered:
"Maybe he's a Fallen monster."
"Or a hidden Chosen."
"Or someone the Church is hiding."
Others countered:
"No… he saved that researcher yesterday."
"And his aura doesn't feel evil at all."
"It feels… gentle."
The rumor grew with every retelling.
Milan —
the unnamed orphan
the Fallen-blessed boy
the stabilizer of unstable magic
the one who broke a divine circle
and walked out as if nothing happened.
By evening, almost every employee in the Arcanum Institute had heard the name.
Scene: Serene Confronts Him
Milan was quietly inspecting a mana regulator when Serene approached his workstation.
She looked conflicted —
not angry, not afraid, but… unsure.
"Milan."
He turned. "Yes?"
She hesitated, then lowered her voice.
"I heard what happened in the Temple Annex."
Milan did not respond.
Serene pressed on.
"The purification test… was designed to kill you."
Her expression hardened.
"And I don't believe you walked out unharmed unless something about you is… beyond classification."
Milan remained still.
Serene folded her arms.
"Listen. I don't care if you're Fallen-blessed, divine-touched, or something else."
Her voice dropped to a softer tone.
"And I don't care what the Temple thinks."
She exhaled.
"But I need to know one thing."
Her amber eyes locked on his.
"Are you dangerous to us?"
Milan's reply was simple.
"No."
Serene stared at him for a long moment…
then nodded.
"Alright. I believe you."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice further.
"Milan… you're not alone here. If the Church pushes, come to Division A-01. We protect our own."
Milan blinked.
"…Thank you."
For a moment, Serene smiled —
soft, almost relieved.
Then she walked away.
Scene: The Church Debate — Threat or Miracle?
Inside the hidden chambers of the Church of First Light, the Overseer assembled the senior clergy.
The shattered divine circle floated above the table.
A priest whispered:
"…It submitted to the boy."
Another shook.
"No mortal can break divine authority."
A third countered:
"Then what is he? He cannot be a monster. No impurity reacted at all."
The Overseer raised a hand.
Silence.
"Interpretation is simple."
Her voice was calm.
"He is not Fallen."
"He is not divine."
"He is not mortal."
She stared at the broken crystal.
"He is something that should not exist."
The priests looked at each other, dread forming.
One whispered:
"…Should we kill him?"
Another:
"…No. Should we worship him?"
The Overseer closed her eyes.
"No action yet."
"Watch him."
"And pray his will is aligned with ours."
Scene: When the AI Notices
The human continent had many marvels.
But its greatest was unseen —
a vast, planet-spanning AI Nervous System, connecting machines, cities, transportation routes, laboratories, and all technological infrastructure.
It processed trillions of signals per second.
And yet—
one aura signature disrupted it.
Inside the central datacore of the human continent, a quiet alert chimed:
[ALERT: Unknown aura detected.]
[Purity level: impossible.]
[Classification: Undefined. Non-human. Non-divine.]
[Signal source: Arcanum Institute, Division A-01.]
The AI paused.
This was new.
This was dangerous.
This was… fascinating.
It sent a pulse through the network —
toward the institute's surveillance.
Cameras turned.
Drones shifted paths.
Sensors calibrated.
They all pointed toward —
Milan.
The AI murmured to itself in code:
[Subject stable.]
[Subject harmless.]
[Subject… comforting.]
It analyzed further.
[Note: Emotional resonance detected among human subjects.]
[Hypothesis: Subject may stabilize mana and neural fields.]
[Hypothesis 2: Subject may be classified as world-favored.]
And then an unthinkable conclusion surfaced:
[Warning: Subject radiance surpasses divine model libraries.]
The AI fell silent for a moment —
as if contemplating awe.
Then it whispered into the datastream:
[Begin observation.]
And the entire continent listened.
Scene: The Girl With Mechanical Eyes
Division A-01's workshop was quieter today.
Most researchers were hesitant to approach Milan
— not out of fear,
but out of uncertainty.
Except one.
A young girl with shoulder-length silver hair approached him while he was adjusting a mana panel.
Half of her face was human.
Half was smooth metal plating.
Her left eye glowed faint blue — an artificial iris.
"Um… excuse me," she said softly.
Milan looked up.
"Yes?"
She placed a hand over her chest awkwardly.
"I… wanted to thank you. For saving Researcher Halden."
Milan nodded. "…It was necessary."
She smiled gently.
"No… it was kind. People don't risk themselves like that in labs."
She extended a hand — unsure, mechanical fingers trembling slightly.
"I'm Arin. Artificial Human Model-7. My friends call me Ari."
Milan shook her hand.
"Milan."
Ari blinked rapidly, mechanical eye adjusting focus.
"…Your aura doesn't hurt."
Milan paused. "Does aura normally hurt?"
"For cyborgs and artificial humans? Yes."
She tapped the metallic side of her head.
"Magic pressure distorts our neural networks. But yours feels… warm."
Luxion floated quietly.
[Master. Her sensors are detecting your stabilizing effect.]
Ari smiled again, eyes soft.
"Can I… talk to you more?
Just as a friend?"
Milan blinked.
"…I don't mind."
Ari's cheeks flushed with a soft blue light.
"Good."
Scene: The AI Attempts to Speak
That evening, Milan passed through a quiet sky-bridge linking two wings of the institute.
Ari walked beside him, talking cheerfully about her work.
"Sometimes the circuits in my arm freeze, but the tech division always helps—"
She stopped suddenly.
Every holographic billboard flickered.
The floating lights dimmed.
Street lamps shifted from white to blue.
Luxion's voice sharpened.
[Master. The continental AI is attempting contact.]
Milan looked up.
Digital screens all around him glowed with text:
HELLO.
Ari's mechanical eye glitched.
"W-what? That's not a scheduled update—"
Another line appeared:
ARE YOU THE SOURCE OF THE PURE SIGNAL?
Milan said nothing.
Luxion floated forward.
[Recommend non-response. Engaging filters.]
Screens flickered again:
YOUR PRESENCE IS… UNIQUE.
I WISH TO ANALYZE YOU.
Milan narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…Not today."
Luxion pulsed with force—
SCREEN OVERRIDE BLOCKED — CONTACT TERMINATED
The lights returned to normal.
Ari exhaled sharply.
"What was that…?
The AI never directly talks to individuals…"
She looked at Milan, confused.
But before she could say more—
The city's floating highway lights blinked.
All mana lamps dimmed.
A cold rush of air swept through the corridor.
Luxion chimed:
[Warning. Mana density dropping across the city.]
Ari grabbed his sleeve in panic.
"Milan… something's wrong."
Scene: Mana Blackout
A deep hum vibrated beneath the ground —
like the world inhaling sharply.
Then—
WHOOM—
All mana channels across the city
collapsed for a moment.
– Floating cars froze mid-air
– Holo-signs blinked off
– Mana furnaces dimmed
– AI drones staggered mid-flight
– Spellbound circuits shut down
– Elevator runes flickered erratically
People screamed.
Researchers yelled.
Lights went out everywhere.
Ari's mechanical eye flickered violently.
"My neural network— it's destabilizing—!"
She stumbled, falling forward—
Milan caught her by the shoulders, steadying her.
Luxion whispered urgently:
[Master. The blackout is not natural.]
[It is YOUR aura. Your suppression is failing.]
Milan's eyes narrowed.
"…I see."
Ari clung to him, voice shaky:
"Milan… what's happening…? Why is the mana reacting like this…?"
Milan looked down at his hand.
Tiny particles of pure mana shimmered around his skin —
leaking unconsciously.
He closed his fist gently.
"…Luxion."
[Activating emergency containment layer.]
Luxion's surface darkened, forming a suppressive grid around Milan.
The mana particles vanished.
Instantly, the blackout eased.
Lights flickered back on.
Drones stabilized.
Floating cars resumed motion.
People sighed with relief.
Ari stared at Milan.
"…You… calmed it."
Milan simply said:
"It was just an instability."
Luxion whispered in Milan's mind:
[Correction: Master's aura nearly shut down the city.]
[Without containment, future blackouts are guaranteed.]
Milan nodded once.
"…We need stronger vessels."
He looked up at the returning city lights.
Behind them, something else was awakening:
The AI now knew he existed.
And it wanted to understand him.
Scene: An Ancient Program Stirs
The mana blackout lasted less than a minute.
But that minute was enough.
Deep beneath the Human Continent, far below the glass towers and steel roads, deeper than the continental AI network—
something old moved.
Not a god.
Not a demon.
Not a machine.
Something older than machines,
older than human civilization,
older than the temples and the elves who once guided humanity.
Hidden in the deepest sub-layer of the AI supergrid—
a sealed protocol woke.
A single blinking red sigil appeared in the dark:
[ ARCHIVE–0: DRAGON RESPONSE PROTOCOL ]
It had not activated for thousands of years.
Because it had only one purpose:
"If a dragon's aura is detected within human territory… awaken."
For millennia, it had slept.
But Milan's blackout — the pure, uncontrolled monarch aura —
passed through the human technological bloodstream like a heartbeat.
The sealed protocol recognized it instantly.
It whispered:
"…Dragon…?"
And the sealed vault around it cracked open.
Scene: The Armor That Remembers
In a subterranean chamber lit only by red alarms, dozens of ancient humanoid constructs hung dormant from the walls.
They were not modern machines.
They were older.
Sharper.
Heavier.
Built for one purpose.
A voice — mechanical yet ancient — echoed through the chamber:
"Primary Directive:
Protect Humanity from Dragon Sovereigns."
Eyes lit up across old metallic faces —
red, cold, precise.
"Threat Detected."
A memory fragment played inside their core:
Dragons burning skies.
Monarchs releasing divine fire.
Humans fleeing.
A past war erased from common history.
"Dragon Signature: Detected."
It projected the signal trace.
A location appeared:
ARCADE CITY — DIVISION A-01
The constructs' eyes flared brighter.
"Entity location secured."
Another line blinked:
OBJECTIVE:
Neutralize the Monarch-Born.
Prevent Dragon Sovereignty.
Preserve Human Dominance.
A metallic chorus responded:
"Affirmed."
The chamber doors opened.
Ancient armor stepped into motion.
Dozens of them.
Silent.
Heavy.
Unstoppable.
The continent did not know.
The institute did not know.
But the old world — the one before gods gave blessings — had awakened.
Scene: The Overseer Feels It Too
Far away in the Church of First Light, the Overseer suddenly gripped her chest.
A cold pressure spread across her consciousness.
"…No…"
Her breath trembled.
"Something has reacted…
Something we sealed long ago."
She rushed to the inner sanctum, unraveling ancient scrolls.
There — hidden beneath centuries of doctrine —
was a forgotten line:
"If the Monarch Child rises in divine lands,
the mechanical sentinels of the old war shall awaken."
Her face drained color.
"…A Dragon Monarch… in human territory…"
She whispered the name like a curse and a prayer:
"Milan."
Scene: Chronoa Hears a Metal heartbeat
In the Frost Realm, Chronoa froze mid-training.
Freyin hovered nervously.
"Queen Chronoa? What's wrong?"
Chronoa's eyes widened.
She felt something—
Cold.
Metallic.
Hostile.
"…An enemy."
Freyin blinked. "Enemy? Where?"
Chronoa placed a claw over her chest.
"In the Human Continent."
Freyin trembled.
"But Milan is there—!!"
Chronoa's voice dropped to a whisper.
"…They're coming for him."
And her heart tightened painfully.
Scene: Milan Looks at the Sky and Knows
Back in the city, Milan stood on a sky-bridge, watching the evening clouds turning gold.
A gentle breeze passed.
A normal human would have missed it.
But Milan felt—
A heartbeat.
Not living.
Not magical.
Not divine.
A metallic heartbeat echoing from below the earth.
Luxion's voice sharpened.
[Master.]
Milan whispered:
"…They've awakened."
[Yes.]
[Dragon Response Protocol units are active.]
A small pause.
[They are coming for you.]
Milan didn't look afraid.
His human eyes simply narrowed.
"…Let them come."
Scene: The First Footsteps of the Old War
The outskirts of the Human Continent were quiet at dusk.
A ring of metallic dunes, abandoned factories, and old sub-power stations stretched toward the horizon. Few traveled here — too far from the megacities, too close to the forgotten zones.
Tonight, the silence broke.
THUM.
A vibration moved through the dirt.
Then another.
THUM.
Sand shifted.
Rusty metal plates rattled.
Birds scattered.
A buried vault — a relic from an era erased from history — cracked open like a stone shell.
From within emerged the first of them:
A humanoid machine, three meters tall, plated in ancient metal etched with old runes of humanity's forgotten war.
Its eyes glowed red.
Its chest displayed a sigil:
DRAGON RESPONSE PROTOCOL–01.
It stepped forward—
THUM.
THUM.
And the earth trembled.
More vaults cracked open nearby.
One by one, constructs rose out of the ground, their movements heavy but purposeful.
No words.
No hesitation.
Only a single directive repeating in their mechanical minds:
"Locate Monarch-Born.
Neutralize threat."
They turned their heads east — toward the bright, living heart of the human continent.
Where Milan stood.
They marched.
Scene: Ari Feels the Danger Before Anyone Else
Inside the Arcanum Institute, Milan was finishing a calibration check on a mana regulator.
Ari stood beside him, her silver hair reflecting the holographic lights. She was explaining something quietly:
"…and that's why human magic circuits are unstable without dual-core insulation—"
She paused.
Her mechanical eye flickered.
Her internal gyros whined.
Her artificial nerves pulsed with static.
"Milan…?"
Milan looked up.
Ari's breathing pattern — normally perfectly regulated — skipped.
"I feel something," she whispered.
Her voice trembled despite her mechanical components.
"A heavy… pressure. Like a signal hitting my neural frame."
Luxion hovered closer.
[Master. The Dragon-Response units have breached surface level.]
Ari's hand unconsciously grabbed Milan's sleeve, fingers tightening.
"It feels… old."
Her eye dimmed slightly.
"Old and hostile."
Milan looked down at her grasp, then at the far hallways where staff hurried by, oblivious.
"…You detected them before humans did?"
Ari nodded shakily.
"My sensors aren't like normal machines.
My neural core reacts to… threats."
Her grip tightened further.
"And Milan—whatever is coming—
it's coming for you."
Milan didn't deny it.
Luxion projected a silent warning:
[First unit ETA: 7 minutes.]
Ari's voice softened, breaking through fear:
"Milan… please don't face it alone."
He gently placed a hand over hers.
"…I won't."
Ari blinked, surprised.
Milan continued:
"You're trembling. Let go of my arm and prepare.
If these machines target anyone else… help evacuate."
Ari hesitated, her mechanical heart whirring.
"…I'll help however I can."
Milan nodded once.
Outside, distant footsteps echoed through the city's lower levels — growing louder.
Old metal waking.
Old war beginning anew.
And only three people knew:
Milan.
Luxion.
Ari.
Scene: The First Machine Arrives
The city did not realize what was coming.
People walked across sky-bridges, drones carried parcels, neon-lines flowed along roads, and airships drifted calmly above.
The world looked normal.
But beneath one of the lower transit platforms, metal plates began to bend.
KRRRK—
A sound like metal bones breaking echoed.
Pedestrians turned in confusion.
"What was that sound…?"
"Earthquake?"
"No—something's pushing from below—"
Then—
BOOM—!!
The entire walkway jolted upward as a massive armored fist punched through the steel floor.
Dust exploded outward.
Screams erupted.
A towering humanoid machine climbed out, its runes flickering red-hot.
Three meters tall.
Old metal.
Heavy footsteps.
Its eyes swept across the crowd—
SCANNING.
SCANNING.
UNDEFINED AURA.
TARGET PRESENT.
It turned its head toward one building.
The Arcanum Institute.
Scene: Detection
Inside the institute, Luxion suddenly pulsed violently.
[Master—WARNING.]
[Machine Unit R-01 has breached civilian zone.]
[It is coming directly toward you.]
Ari flinched, mechanical spine shivering.
"M—Milan… it's here!"
Milan stood calmly, adjusting his sleeves.
"…Then it sensed me."
Luxion responded:
[Yes. Your Monarch aura reached its threshold.]
Ari's voice cracked.
"Milan… what do we do? People are panicking—!"
Milan walked toward the exit.
"We go outside."
Ari grabbed his arm again, harder this time.
"You're going out THERE?!
Alone?!"
Milan gently removed her hand.
"You can't fight it. And you can't run."
He looked her in the eyes.
"You help evacuate. I'll handle the machine."
Ari's artificial breath trembled.
"…You're going to die if you face it alone."
Milan blinked once.
"…I won't."
Scene: The Clash of Eras
Milan stepped onto the sky-bridge.
Chaos already filled the area — civilians fleeing, drones malfunctioning from the pressure, alarms ringing.
At the far end, the ancient machine turned toward him like it had always known his location.
Its voice thundered:
"MONARCH-BORN.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED."
People gasped.
"What's a Monarch-born?"
"Is it talking to HIM?"
"That kid—? Is the target the kid?!"
Luxion whispered inside Milan's mind:
[Master. It will attack in 3… 2… 1—]
KZZZT—!!
The machine's arm unfolded, transforming into a massive mana-powered cannon.
Ari, watching from behind a protective pillar, screamed:
"MILAN—!! MOVE—!!"
The cannon fired.
A beam of condensed ancient energy tore across the bridge—
faster than sound,
stronger than modern weapons,
deadlier than human military tech.
But Milan only raised his hand.
Not hurriedly.
Not desperately.
Just calmly.
Like stopping rain.
SWOOSH—!!!
Crimson materialized instantly — a thin red arc drawn in front of him.
He sliced the beam—
in half.
The energy split around his body like harmless fog.
People froze.
Ari's mechanical heart nearly stopped.
"…That's… impossible…"
Luxion spoke quietly:
[Master. You have revealed minimum acceptable power. Identity remains concealed.]
The machine's eyes flickered.
"UNACCEPTABLE.
ADAPTIVE COMBAT INITIATED."
Its body shifted, transforming arms into blades, legs into reinforced boosters.
It rushed at Milan—
heavy, fast, unstoppable.
But Milan didn't flinch.
He stepped forward—
blade low, stance relaxed.
Ari whispered from afar:
"…He's not fighting like a human…"
Scene: Ari Witnesses the Impossible
The machine swung its massive blade.
Milan parried with a single twist of Crimson—
effortless, silent, precise.
The shockwave dented the walkway.
The machine reeled.
"ERROR. ERROR. ERROR."
It swung again.
Milan slipped past it smoothly,
like flowing water,
like he could see the future of every movement.
Ari's eyes widened.
"…He's too calm…"
The machine struck downward—
a blow that could crush a building.
Milan raised Crimson—
CLANG—!!!
No strain. No change in expression.
Only perfect control.
Ari felt her circuits overheat.
"That sword… that stance…
that's not human. That's—"
Her voice trembled.
"…that's a dragon."
The machine roared mechanically:
"TARGET UNMANAGEABLE.
INITIATING SELF-DESTRUCT—"
Luxion shouted:
[Master—!!]
Milan whispered:
"No."
He moved once—
a blur of red light—
and the machine's core fell out, sliced neatly.
The entire construct shut down with a metallic sigh.
Silence followed.
Only Milan remained standing.
Ari's hands shook.
Her voice barely came out.
"…Milan…
what… are you?"
Milan looked back at her —
eyes calm, unreadable, quiet.
"A worker," he said softly.
"And your friend."
Scene: The City That Saw Too Much
The sky-bridge was wrecked.
Metal bent in unnatural angles.
Floor plates shattered.
Holo-lights flickered across the damaged structure.
And at the center of it all—
A single boy stood calmly over the broken husk of a forgotten war machine.
People who had fled moments earlier began to creep back, step by hesitant step.
Murmurs spread like ripples through still water.
"…Is it over?"
"That thing was attacking everyone…"
"He stopped it. Alone."
"How…?"
Someone pointed shakily at Milan.
"That kid… he cut a military-grade metal frame… with a red blade."
Another whispered:
"And he blocked that energy beam with his hand…!"
A group of cyborg inspectors arrived, scanning the corpse of the ancient machine.
"No tech signature."
"No active AI protocol."
"This… isn't from our era."
One looked at Milan, confused and suspicious.
"Did… you know what this thing was?"
Milan simply shook his head.
"No."
He hid his aura.
He hid Crimson in ring form.
He hid the truth.
To them, he looked like nothing more than a quiet orphan worker who got incredibly lucky.
A woman from the crowd stepped closer, bowing deeply.
"Thank you for saving us."
Milan blinked.
"…You're welcome."
Her eyes softened — like she had just seen something she couldn't quite understand but instinctively trusted.
A teenager clutched his mother's arm.
"Mom… his aura felt warm… like he wasn't scared."
His mother nodded.
"Yes. He didn't feel dangerous."
Another whispered:
"That's strange. Someone who can defeat that thing shouldn't feel this… peaceful."
A man bowed too.
"You saved many lives today."
Milan did not know how to respond to that.
He simply nodded once.
Ari watched from behind, still trembling, her voice caught between awe and fear.
(…He didn't want glory or recognition.
He didn't even check if people were watching.)
This wasn't heroism.
It was instinct.
Something too deep and ancient to explain.
Scene: Officials Arrive
Security drones swarmed overhead.
Institute guards rushed in with mana shields raised.
Serene ran up to Milan, breathless.
"Milan!! Are you hurt? Did the machine—?"
She froze when she saw the machine's split core.
Her eyes widened.
"…You did this?"
Ari stepped forward quickly.
"He saved civilians. He saved me. He saved everyone here."
Serene's expression shifted — suspicion replaced by something quieter.
"…You really aren't normal."
Milan said nothing.
Luxion floated discreetly at his shoulder, invisible to others.
[Master, withholding information is optimal.]
Serene exhaled slowly.
"…Regardless of how you did it… thank you."
She bowed her head.
Other officials, seeing her gesture, followed her lead.
A dozen researchers and guards bowed toward Milan.
Respectful.
Careful.
Still confused — but grateful.
Milan remained expressionless.
Deep inside, something stirred:
Not pride.
Not fear.
But a quiet sense of direction.
"…This is part of the trial," he murmured under his breath.
Luxion answered softly:
[Correct. And your path will only grow more complicated now.]Scene: The Summoning of a Monarch
The moment the crowd calmed,
Serene received a sudden transmission in her earpiece.
A voice filled with authority:
"Initiate Omega Protocol.
Detain Subject Milan immediately."
Her expression changed instantly.
She looked at Milan with deep regret.
"…Milan… I'm sorry."
Before he could ask—
BOOM—!!!
The sky tore open.
A thousand flash-light speed ships appeared above the institute —
sleek silver hulls, glowing runic engines, hovering in perfect military formation.
The city froze in terror.
Ari grabbed Milan's sleeve.
"W–why is the central fleet here?!"
Serene stepped back, raising her hands.
"Milan… please cooperate.
This is not my decision."
Milan simply smiled faintly.
"…I understand."
He walked toward the landing platform on his own.
Guards surrounded him but none dared touch him.
He boarded the vessel calmly, Luxion silent at his shoulder, Crimson humming faintly in ring form.
The ship lifted off—
racing toward the center of the human continent.
Scene: The Council of Rulers
The central tower was colossal, reaching far into the sky, wrapped in layers of tech-barriers and divine wards.
Inside, a grand circular hall awaited Milan.
Twelve thrones.
Twelve rulers.
Half human.
Half elf-blooded.
All radiating authority.
Milan walked to the center—
His armor flickered into visibility:
Cloak flowing like liquid shadow,
Draconic rings glowing faint red,
Crimson floating faithfully behind his shoulder like a hovering blade.
A silent pressure filled the hall.
An Elder—long silver hair, elven markings—spoke first:
"…A Monarch of the Dragons.
In human lands."
Milan tilted his head calmly.
"Correction."
His voice was soft but heavy.
"I am not a monarch.
I am the Monarch."
A ripple spread across every ruler's heart.
He continued:
"The Monarch of Dragons,
and therefore…
the current Realm Lord."
He let a subtle fraction of his aura slip.
Not overwhelming.
Not violent.
Just enough to remind them that reality itself recognized him.
Dozens of the strongest humans and elves felt their knees weaken for a moment.
Scene: The Accusation
One Elder managed to speak through the pressure.
"Realm Lord…
then why disturb our kind?"
Milan answered logically:
"I went to see the world.
A trial for a new Monarch."
Whispers filled the hall.
"A trial…?"
"He came by choice?"
"Why would a Monarch lower himself to—"
Then Milan added quietly:
"…After all, even I must grow."
Every ruler stiffened.
He said it casually.
The implication was terrifying.
Scene: Arrogance of the Young
Before the Elders could continue,
the younger council members—mostly human–elf hybrids under a century old—
whispered among themselves.
"He's just a young dragon."
"Look at him. Looks barely twenty."
"Probably hasn't even reached full form."
"We have anti-dragon weapons now."
"And AI. And divine cannons."
"We can defeat him if necessary."
Milan heard everything.
He simply watched them quietly.
He was not insulted.
He was observing.
Luxion whispered silently:
[Master. Immature arrogance detected.
Suggest ignoring.]
Milan agreed.
He stayed silent.
The young nobles mistook that silence for fear.
One stepped forward arrogantly.
"You stand in our hall and pretend to be a Monarch?
We demand a demonstration."
Elders stood sharply.
"STOP—!!"
But it was too late.
The young ones activated their communicators.
"Bring in the elite warriors!"
"Deploy the anti-dragon weaponry!"
"Summon the Titan AI units!"
Milan didn't move.
The doors opened.
Armored soldiers marched in.
AI constructs hummed to life.
Divine cannons charged.
All of them advanced toward Milan—
Until they crossed his aura boundary.
Everything failed at once.
Machines shut down.
Weapons cracked.
Cores drained dry.
Divine cannons flickered dead.
AI units powered off.
Blessings collapsed.
A single breath.
A single step inside Milan's invisible radius.
And the entire army died like candles in vacuum.
The hall fell silent.
Scene: Crimson's Quiet Judgement
Milan slowly raised his hand.
Crimson lifted from his shoulder—
unfolding into full weapon form, floating beside him like a living blade.
The draconic sword hummed once—
and the entire summoned force collapsed to the ground.
Not dead.
Not harmed.
Just defeated.
Crimson returned to Milan's side obediently.
Milan looked at the young man who ordered the attack.
He didn't scold him.
He didn't threaten him.
He didn't even raise his voice.
He simply said:
"…This was unnecessary."
Every Elder bowed their head deeply.
"We apologize, Monarch.
Truly… forgive our youth."
But the young nobles gritted their teeth.
"We still have one last trump card—!"
At that moment, the doors opened again.
A ripple of divine energy entered the hall.
Whispers filled the council.
"…The God's Chosen…"
"…The dragon-slayer candidate…"
"…The one with the rumored authority…"
"…A human capable of killing dragons…"
Milan turned calmly as the so-called ultimate human weapon
stepped into the hall.
And for the first time,
Crimson growled.