The silence in the Hall of Judgment was so dense it seemed almost tangible.
Aurelian Draykos took three steps forward and stopped at the center of the circle etched into the black marble, wrists unbound, eyes devoid of fear. The runes beneath his feet trembled faintly, as if recognizing something no one else could perceive.
Before him, on a raised throne of golden stone, sat King Valemor III, ruler of the Kingdom of Eltarion. At his sides, the Lawwardens, figures cloaked in crimson, watched Aurelian like one watches a beast already condemned to the slaughter.
"Aurelian Draykos," the judge declared, his voice amplified by magic, "you stand accused of violating the Pact of Classes, of wielding an unregistered power, and of causing the deaths of two royal Heralds."
A murmur swept through the hall.
Aurelian did not answer immediately. He slowly lifted his gaze—not toward the judge… but to the King.
Valemor gripped the armrest of his throne.
It was not fear.
It was discomfort.
"Do you have anything to say before the sentence is pronounced?" the judge asked.
Aurelian tilted his head slightly. "Only one thing."
The runic circle pulsed.
Some of the Lawwardens stepped back without realizing it.
"This throne," Aurelian continued, his voice calm, "does not belong to you."
A Lawwarden shouted, "Silence!"
But the words had already been spoken, and the world had heard them.
For an infinitesimal instant, Aurelian felt the Threads.
He could not see them with his eyes, but he sensed them as one senses a limb. Invisible threads, taut, connecting people, oaths, spells, authority. Threads binding every individual to their role in the world.
And some… were thicker than others.
The King was bound by hundreds of them.
"Arrogant," Valemor growled, rising to his feet. "You are a nobody. A vassal without a house."
Aurelian smiled faintly.
"I was."
The judge raised his scepter. "By royal decree—"
He did not finish the sentence.
The space before Aurelian collapsed.
There was no sound.
There was no light.
Only sudden void, as if the air had obeyed a command that should not exist.
The judge was hurled backward, his body twisted by a force no defensive spell could withstand. He crashed against a column, unconscious.
Chaos erupted in the hall.
"Protect the King!"
The Lawwardens activated barriers, mana spears, containment seals. Aurelian remained still, at the center of the now-smoking circle.
Within him, something had opened.
Class Detected.
Anomalous Class: Sovereignty Weaver.
Unregistered Authority.
Warning: the world is watching.
Aurelian felt the weight of these words without truly reading them. He perceived them as a mark upon his soul.
A Lawwarden charged, shouting, spear thrust forward. Aurelian moved only two fingers.
A Thread of Dominion stretched.
The spear clattered to the ground.
The Lawwarden froze, rigid, breath caught.
"Kneel," Aurelian said.
The Lawwarden obeyed.
Silence returned, more terrifying than before.
Valemor stared at the scene, eyes wide. "What… are you?"
Aurelian took a step forward. Then another.
Each step heavier than the last, as if the floor itself recognized a new authority.
"I am not yet anything," he replied. "But I will become."
The windows of the Hall of Judgment cracked all at once.
Somewhere, far away, something ancient stirred.
Aurelian Draykos was not seeking a kingdom.
He was claiming a destiny.
And the world, for the first time in centuries, could not refuse.