Chapter 427
He tapped his cane once against the ground.
For a moment, ripples of golden-yellow light spread from the tip of the cane, sweeping across the entire area, touching every frozen soldier, every thickening pool of blood, every shapeless pile of corpses.
And when the ripples subsided, Xavier felt as if time had not only stopped but had also folded in on itself, carrying the two of them into the space between frozen seconds, into a narrow gap where the greatest secrets of the universe could be whispered without fear of being heard by the wrong ears.
Alaric Syah—because that was the name of the old man—began to tell a story about the past that had long been the reason Xavier had to live in hiding, why he had to be raised by his grandparents without ever knowing his parents, and why the armies of the Obrim Dynasty came to invade this peaceful little village with such ferocity.
The Obrim Dynasty, Alaric said, his voice suddenly becoming heavy and deep, is the reason behind all of this.
They are the reason you were never crowned king.
They are the reason the throne that should have been your inheritance has remained empty for years.
They are the reason you had to hide in a remote village protected by mist, far from the outside world that they have ruled with an iron hand.
And they are the reason that today—at the moment your potential has finally awakened, when your royal blood has begun to boil and demand recognition—they have come to make sure that you will never claim what is rightfully yours.
This invasion is not about the village. Not about its people. Not about the mist or the walls or anything you once believed.
This invasion is about you, Xavier.
About their fear of what you might one day become.
About their attempt to extinguish the light before it has the chance to shine.
Xavier listened with a trembling body, not from fear anymore, but from a mixture of anger and confusion that was impossible to separate.
Alaric continued his story, bringing Xavier back to a time long before he was born, a time when this world was still ruled by kings of the same bloodline that now flowed within him.
Alaric himself, with a strange humility for someone who claimed to have once ruled the world, explained that long ago he had governed a great kingdom in this world.
He ruled together with his wife, a beautiful and wise queen, for countless years.
And when they were finally blessed with a son, when the line of succession finally had a rightful heir, they raised and guided that child with all their love and hope.
For twenty-two years they nurtured him, teaching him everything a future king needed to know, preparing him to take the throne when the time came.
And when that time finally arrived, when their son had grown mature and wise enough to lead, Alaric and his wife decided to depart.
They left this world together, passing away peacefully after ensuring that their bloodline would continue through their only son.
And at that moment—during the natural void of power that followed the transition of leadership—Alaric's son ascended the throne with the name and title that had long been prepared for him.
King Xavier the First.
A young ruler with the purest royal blood, with the inheritance of wisdom from both his parents, and with great dreams of leading the kingdom toward even greater glory.
And from that moment onward, from the time King Xavier I sat upon the rightful throne, the system of power in this world functioned as it should.
Authority passed from one generation to the next through bloodline, through the bond between father and child, through family ties that no one could sever.
Alaric's blood continued to flow from King Xavier I to his children, from his children to their grandchildren, from their grandchildren to their great-grandchildren, in a long chain that never broke despite storms and wars that constantly raged.
Each generation produced a new successor.
Each successor took the name Xavier as their throne name.
Each new Xavier carried the same hopes and burdens.
Until the seventeenth generation arrived.
Until the moment came for you, Xavier.
Until the moment when the chain that had remained unbroken for thousands of years nearly faced extinction at the hands of dark forces that had long coveted a throne that was never theirs.
"The great problem began during the reign of King Xavier XV—or, more precisely, your biological father."
The story revealed by Alaric grew deeper, darker, pulling Xavier into a whirlpool of the past he had never imagined before.
He heard about King Xavier XV, a ruler who governed with justice and wisdom for many years, beloved by his people because his policies always placed the welfare of the kingdom first.
But like all kings before him, Xavier XV was not immortal.
His age grew old.
His health steadily declined.
And throughout the kingdom, whispers began to spread about who would replace him when the time came.
Those whispers grew louder as news began to circulate that King Xavier XV was nearing his end—that the great king was struggling against death upon his bed, that the royal throne would soon be empty and would require a new occupant.
And within those whispers, a name began to emerge.
Xavier XVI.
A crown princess, the younger sister of King Xavier XV himself, who had long been indirectly prepared to take over the reins of leadership should anything happen to her brother.
Xavier XVI was a woman who was intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious.
All this time she had only been a shadow behind her brother, assisting here and there, supporting various policies, yet never truly holding power.
And when that opportunity finally arrived—when the throne was almost within her grasp—she believed that this was the moment.
This was the moment to prove that a woman could rule a kingdom of this magnitude.
This was the moment to claim what she believed was her rightful place as a member of the royal family.
This was the moment to show the world that Xavier XVI was not merely the younger sister of a great king, but a ruler worthy of respect and fear.
But her hopes were shattered into pieces when Xavier XV, with the last remnants of strength he possessed on his deathbed, announced a decision that no one had ever expected.
The throne of the kingdom would not fall into the hands of Xavier XVI.
The throne would be given to his newborn child, a tiny baby who could not even open his eyes properly yet.
That baby was named Xavier XVII.
That baby was you, Xavier.
Xavier felt his chest pound violently as he heard this part.
He—who had lived his entire life as a simple village boy without knowing his origins—was actually the rightful crown prince since birth.
He—who had spent his days playing in mud and climbing trees with his small gang of childhood friends—had been destined to sit upon the throne since he was still a newborn.
He—who had nearly died at the hands of the soldiers of the Obrim Dynasty only moments ago—had been the primary target of this invasion from the very beginning.
Yet his confusion quickly shifted into tension when Alaric continued the story of what happened after that controversial announcement.
Xavier XVI could not accept her brother's decision.
She was furious.
Disappointed.
She felt betrayed by her own flesh and blood.
And in that anger, she accused Xavier XV of committing injustice, of violating tradition, of stealing her rightful claim as the next heir to the throne.
To be continued…