The queen hurried after her son the moment he stormed out of the throne room, the golden doors closing behind her with a heavy echo.
"Tazz… Tazz, wait," she called softly, her voice trembling with the calm warmth only a mother could muster. She reached for his arm as he marched down the long white corridor, but he jerked away without even looking at her.
"Please, my son," she tried again, stepping beside him. "You must breathe… you cannot let your anger rule you like this. Come, talk to me."
He didn't slow. He didn't speak.
He didn't even glance her way.
His footsteps only grew louder—hard, furious stomps against the marble floor. He walked as though the entire palace was suffocating him, as though every wall whispered insults he couldn't bear to hear.
"Tazz…" She reached a hand forward one last time.
He brushed past her entirely, shoulders stiff, eyes fixed ahead as if nothing in the world existed but his own bitter thoughts.
And then he was gone—disappearing around the corner without a single word, leaving the queen standing there alone in the long, empty corridor.
She lowered her hand slowly.
Her expression softened into deep worry, fear tightening her chest.
"…Oh, my child," she whispered, barely audible. "What is happening to you?"
Her voice faded into silence as she remained rooted to the spot, staring in the direction he had vanished, hoping—praying—that she could still reach him before he strayed too far into darkness.
Prince Tazz stormed into his chambers, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled. Fury burned through him; he grabbed whatever his hands found—books, ornaments, cushions—and hurled them across the room.
A vase shattered. A chair toppled.
Still, the anger swelled.
A sudden knock cut through the chaos.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he roared, breath shaking with rage.
A voice answered from the other side—steady, familiar.
"Your Highness… it's us."
Tazz froze. His jaw clenched. He recognized them—his two most trusted aides. The only people in the palace he felt truly listened to him.
"…Enter," he snapped.
The door opened and the two men stepped inside, bowing lightly. They scanned the wrecked room but said nothing—only giving him the silent loyalty he craved.
Tazz didn't wait. The moment the door shut, the words exploded out of him.
"I cannot BELIEVE the king spoke to me like that! In front of everyone! When I was the only one thinking about the kingdom's safety!" He paced like a caged beast. "And now this Jericho—this stranger—walks in from nowhere and suddenly the king is bowing his head in apology? How can he be so gullible? It's infuriating!"
One of the aides stepped forward, lowering his head in agreement.
"Your Highness is right. You see things clearly. You would make a far stronger king than His Majesty… or the princess."
The second aide bowed beside him.
"I pray you ascend the throne before the current king destroys our great nation with his softness."
Tazz breathed sharply through his nose—pride flaring as their words poured oil on his anger.
"This isn't over," he hissed. "I refuse to stand by while my weak father drags our homeland into ruin. Not on my watch."
He clenched his fists.
"I'll drive him out. Him… my sister… even my mother if I have to. The throne belongs to someone who has the courage to rule—not to cowards."
Then his expression twisted, eyes narrowing with cold disdain.
"And that corpse prince… Jericho. I'll send him back where he belongs—back into the ground he crawled out from."
His aides smiled—dark, eager, feeding off his wrath.
"In time, Your Highness," one murmured. "The kingdom will be yours."
Tazz smirked, the spark of ambition turning into a flame.
(Back in The Throne Room)
Only a handful remained in the vast throne room now: King Gustavious, Erica, William, Alice… and Jericho standing quietly before them.
The heavy doors closed with a deep, echoing thud as the last court member exited.
Silence settled—thick, expectant.
The ArchPriest of the Six Crowns stepped forward. His robes whispered across the golden carpet as he bowed his head… to Jericho.
The gesture startled everyone. Even King Gustavious looked taken aback.
"Prince Jericho," the ArchPriest said softly, straightening. His voice was calm, but his eyes—sharp, ancient—studied Jericho with unsettling focus. "It brings me great joy to see you alive."
Jericho bowed respectfully. "And it is an honor to stand before you, ArchPriest Voltar."
The old priest's eyes warmed, but his expression remained serious.
"I asked for this room to be cleared," he said, turning briefly to the king. "Because the questions I must ask… and the truths you carry… are not matters meant for unworthy ears."
Erica, Alice, and William exchanged uncertain glances.
Jericho stayed silent.
The king nodded. "Ask what you must, Leon. I trust your judgment."
The ArchPriest stepped closer to Jericho—close enough that the air around them felt heavier, as though the atmosphere itself was listening.
"Jericho…" he began quietly. "You said you were blessed with a gift. A mysterious ability awakened in you. And that you survived the impossible—death itself."
Jericho nodded slowly.
The ArchPriest's gaze sharpened.
"But there is something more. Something you have not said."
Jericho felt his heartbeat shift.
Not with fear—
But with the sense that this man knew more than he should.
The ArchPriest gently raised his hand—not to attack, not to probe, but simply hovering near Jericho's chest, as if feeling the air before him.
"Since you stepped into the throne room," the ArchPriest said, "the entire atmosphere changed. Only someone who can touch the deepest laws of existence can affect reality without meaning to."
Erica's eyes widened. William stiffened. Alice swallowed, her hand close to her chest. They all were surprised the ArchPriest knew so much after just meeting Jericho.
The king leaned forward, whispering, "Leon… what are you saying?"
The ArchPriest's voice dropped into a reverent hush.
"I can sense… a radiance within him. A power unlike anything I have ever encountered. I have only felt something faintly similar once in my entire life—and even then, it was distant, like a whisper from the heavens."
He looked directly into Jericho's eyes.
"This presence within you… it is not human. At least not entirely."
The room froze.
Jericho stayed perfectly still—expression calm but he broke into a cold sweat.
Erica finally found her voice. "W–What does that mean…?… {does ArchPriest Leon know Jericho's true identity?}" she thought, hoping this won't ruin the relationship she had created with Jericho.
The ArchPriest lowered his hand and bowed again—this time deeper, fully acknowledging Jericho as something far greater.
"It means," he said softly, "the heavens themselves have touched him."
He straightened and looked at the king.
"Your Majesty… whatever path lies before this young prince, it will reshape the fate of this world. For good… or for calamity."
Everyone turned to Jericho.
Jericho's voice was low but steady.
"I did not choose this power," he said. "But I will choose what I do with it."
A slow smile formed on the ArchPriest's face—not fearful, but hopeful.
"And that," he said, "is exactly why I believe in you."
The throne room was silent.
Every pair of eyes—and the king's, rested on Jericho with confusion, shock, and a thousand unspoken questions. Only the ArchPriest remained calm, watching with a quiet certainty that felt older than the hall itself… while Erica and the others were still surprised the ArchPriest guessed all this by just laying eyes on Jericho.
Jericho exhaled… a long, nervous sigh of acceptance.
He knew there was no turning back now.
"There's… more," he admitted quietly. "Just as the ArchPriest said"
Erica's breath caught. Alice tensed. William took a half-step forward, as if bracing himself.
Jericho drew in a deep breath and finally spoke the truth he had tried to hide, at least for that moment, from the king.
"I was killed," he said. "Four years ago. I didn't exist in this world anymore."
The words hit the room like a thunderclap—shocking, cold, impossible.
Erica's eyes widened in fear, cause she was worried Jericho was forced to reveal that detail by the ArchPriest.
The ArchPriest nodded gently… as though he had known all along.
Jericho continued.
"But I was brought back. Chosen by the Six Gods themselves. They made me… something new. A protector of Earth… and a bridge between the divine and mortals."
He paused, his voice steadying.
"I'm not just human anymore. I'm a sub-god. And I swear to you—I am not with my brother Jace. I'm here to save him… and to save this world. I won't rest until I do."
The silence that followed was absolute.
The ArchPriest broke it with a soft, satisfied smile.
"He speaks nothing but the truth."
Erica snapped out of her shock first. Remembering their conversation back at the Great Forest of Dawn, how much he was sincere. She still believes in him after all. She moved to Jericho's side without hesitation—shoulders squared, resolve firm.
Alice followed a moment later, cheeks slightly red, though she tried to hide it.
William was last. Hesitation warred in his eyes… until finally he stepped forward and joined them.
The king turned to his daughter… "Erica, you knew all along?"
She nodded, "yes, and I still fully trust him… we all do."
The king let out a slow sigh, then turn to the ArchPriest…
"Leon," he said, "you trust him so easily too. Why? What if… what if he isn't entirely truthful—as before?"
The ArchPriest chuckled softly.
"Because the gods sent me a sign. A message in the Lost Tongue. It took me months to decipher it… but I did. And it foretold his return. That is why nothing he says surprises me—and why I believe him."
He glanced at Jericho with pride.
"And if you still doubt my words, Your Majesty… check his chest. You will see the marks of all six blessings."
Jericho blinked, stunned.
So this was the human the gods told him they had as a subordinate.
He smiled faintly at the realization.
The ArchPriest turned fully to Jericho. "You may trust the King of Righteous completely."
"I know," Jericho replied. "I already do."
Then his expression shifted, becoming more serious.
"But I need to ask something of all of you. Please… keep my nature a secret. The fact that I'm a sub-god cannot leave this room."
Everyone nodded immediately—solemnly.
The king sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"So a god walks among us…" He paused, then smirked. "Perhaps I should step down and hand you my throne. I can't outrank a god."
Erica gasped. William stiffened. Alice nearly choked.
"Calm down," the king waved them off. "I'm joking."
Jericho shook his head quickly.. with a nervous and shy laugh.
"I'm not that divine. I'm basically just… a human with divine blessings. That's all."
The ArchPriest laughed, a warm, booming sound.
"Modesty does not suit you, Jericho. If you wanted, the entire kingdom would worship you."
Erica leaned in and whispered, "Does this mean I saw an actual god naked? Am I going to get cursed for… uh… not being worthy?"
Jericho let out a panicked, high-pitched laugh—loud and awkward enough to distract everyone before they processed what Erica actually said.
He cleared his throat intensely.
"R-Right! Moving on. I have something important to tell you all. Something about… a change coming to the world."
Immediately, the atmosphere shifted.
All jokes faded.
All eyes returned to Jericho.
The room braced itself—quiet, tense, expectant—for what he would reveal next.