Emlridge City stood at the heart of the continent of Aerthos, a rare neutral ground positioned between the three dominant powers.
To the west lay the Empire of Elvaris, a realm governed by a royal lineage that traced its blood back to ancient heroes, a heritage that still commanded respect in the present era. The main figure of this age emerged from that very lineage.
To the north rose Lumeria, the magic empire, where authority was not inherited but earned through mastery, and one's standing was determined by knowledge and control over the arcane.
To the east stood Caelmont, a nation forged through strength, where warriors held dominion and only those who proved their power secured their place.
Amid these three forces, Emlridge remained untouched.
No single power ruled it, and none could extend their influence over it. That fragile balance endured for one reason—the academy.
Brighthold Academy.
Founded seven hundred years ago by a hero and his companions, it was established on a simple yet enduring principle: knowledge should not be bound by origin. That ideal shaped the city itself, allowing it to exist beyond the reach of empires and kingdoms.
But accessibility did not mean leniency.
The academy accepted applicants from any land, yet only those who met its standards were admitted. Status held no value, and neither did lineage. Even nobles were turned away without exception if they failed to qualify.
In the end, only ability determined who remained.
That standard was enforced by those who governed it—individuals unaffiliated with any nation, yet powerful enough that none of the three great powers dared to interfere.
"Now… where is that store?" Cassian muttered, his gaze moving across the street as he scanned the rows of shops without slowing.
This was one of the most prosperous cities on the continent, and it showed in every direction, with streets packed with stores selling jewelry, clothing, books, and countless other goods meant to draw attention.
He moved through the crowds, checking one street after another, but the place he was looking for didn't appear, and only after nearly thirty minutes of searching did he finally find it in another part of the city.
The name wasn't common, written in a way that stood out just enough to be noticed.
"Whispering Relics."
Cassian stepped inside, and the atmosphere of the shop hit him immediately.
The interior looked neglected, with dust covering the shelves and random items scattered without any proper order. Nothing seemed recently touched, and there was no sign of staff presence anywhere near the counter.
He stopped for a moment and let his eyes move across the space.
"What the hell…" he muttered under his breath.
It didn't feel like a functioning store at all, more like something left alone for far too long.
He looked toward the counter again, still empty.
"There's supposed to be someone running this, right?"
No response came from anywhere inside.
Cassian exhaled through his nose as he reached out and pressed the bell on the counter, the sound ringing once through the quiet shop before fading without any response.
He waited briefly, then pressed it again with more force, but the result remained the same, and after a third attempt he stopped and stood there for nearly two minutes, his patience wearing thinner with each passing second as no one came.
At that point, he no longer bothered holding back and brought his hand down onto the counter with a strike, the impact splitting it cleanly into two as the sound echoed through the shop.
Only then did movement follow, with hurried footsteps breaking the silence from above, accompanied by the uneven sound of someone rushing down the stairs, nearly stumbling in their haste.
A young man appeared moments later, his brown hair slightly disheveled and his blue eyes carrying clear irritation as he steadied himself at the bottom of the stairs, his attention immediately locking onto the split counter.
His expression changed the moment he saw the damage, irritation turning into anger as he pointed toward it.
"You can't just walk in here and break things," he said sharply, his gaze fixed on Cassian. "That's going to cost you two thousand gold coins."
Cassian slowly turned his head toward him.
"Two thousand gold for that?" he asked, his tone flat, as if confirming what he had just heard, because a single gold coin could feed a normal family for a month, and for most commoners it was their entire monthly income, yet he was being asked for that amount over a broken counter.
The young man straightened his posture and crossed his arms, trying to look firm.
"Yes, and I'm already being generous about it."
"That counter wouldn't even be worth a hundred gold in any proper market in this city."
The young man's expression tightened, the confidence slipping slightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he said, his voice rising as he stepped forward. "You think I'm lying? That's an antique piece, so pay up, or I'll call the guards."
Cassian looked at the man and narrowed his eyes.
"It seems," he said, "living in human cities has made you forget your manners… especially when you're standing in front of your king."
For a brief moment, nothing changed.
Then his eyes shifted, a faint glow surfacing, and the air in the room grew heavier. It wasn't sudden or explosive, but it spread fast enough to make the difference clear. The space felt tighter, harder to breathe in, as something unseen pressed down from all sides.
The young man froze.
His expression didn't change immediately, but his body reacted before his thoughts could catch up. His shoulders stiffened, his breath hitched slightly, and instinct told him something was wrong.
Then he noticed it.
The green gem resting against Cassian's chest.
Recognition hit.
The information he had received not long ago surfaced in his mind without delay.
If you ever encounter someone wearing a green gem around their neck…
If they claim themselves as your king…
If your body reacts before your mind can deny it…
Then you are standing before the Demon King.
The realization hit, and there was no hesitation.
The young man dropped to his knees instantly, the sound echoing as his forehead hit the ground without holding back.
"Forgive me, my king—no, forgive me—how did I not recognize you…" his words came out rushed, almost stumbling over themselves.
He bowed again, harder this time.
"I've seen the reports… I knew— I should have known—"
Another strike.
"And I spoke to you like that… I—"
He didn't stop, each time slamming his head down with force, not out of fear alone, but something closer to desperation mixed with disbelief.
"I've waited for this— to see you once— and I— I acted like that—"
The floor cracked under repeated impact, but he didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own reaction.
Cassian stood there, watching him as the irritation from earlier faded, replaced by a brief pause while he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
What the hell…
"Stop banging your head."
The man didn't stop.
"If this is the price, then let me pay it—" he said, his voice shaking as his forehead hit the floor again.
Cassian's expression tightened slightly. "You're going to kill yourself at this rate."
"That's fine," the man replied immediately, not even lifting his head. "How can I stand after speaking to you like that? I deserve worse."
Another strike.
Cassian stepped forward this time and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up before he could slam his head down again.
"That's enough."
The man froze, his breath uneven, eyes wide as he looked at Cassian up close now, like he still couldn't believe what was in front of him.
"I didn't come here to watch you break your own skull," Cassian said, his voice steady, no anger left in it, only impatience. "If you want to make up for it, then stand up and be useful."
The man swallowed hard, his body still tense.
"…Y-yes, my king."
Cassian let go of him, watching as he struggled to steady himself, still shaken but no longer throwing himself at the ground.
"Now," Cassian said, his gaze moving across the dusty shelves before returning to him, "start by saying your name… and explain why this place looks like it's been abandoned."
The man straightened immediately, still tense but trying to compose himself. "My name is Jasper," he said quickly. "I'm assigned here to monitor intelligence within the city."
He hesitated after that, his hand moving up to scratch his cheek, his expression turning awkward.
"And the condition of this place?" Cassian asked, his tone making it clear he expected an answer.
Jasper shifted slightly. "That is…"
"Say it."
Jasper flinched at the directness, then forced himself to continue. "For the past five years, nothing significant has happened in this city. No movements, no threats, nothing worth reporting…"
He paused, clearly aware of how it sounded.
"So I… got careless."
His voice lowered a bit. "Things slowed down, and I stopped paying attention the way I should have."
Cassian looked at him for a moment, silent.
Jasper avoided his eyes, already aware of how bad it sounded. The next second, he dropped to his knees again and pulled out a knife without hesitation, raising it toward his throat as if that alone would make up for it.
"You do know wraiths can't die by slitting their throats," Cassian said, his tone flat.
"Yes," Jasper replied without pause.
Then he stood up in one motion and turned toward the door.
"I'll go purify myself at the church—"
He didn't get another step.
Jasper's body jerked backward, dragged through the air as if something had caught him by the collar. In the next instant, he was pulled right back across the room and lifted off the ground, hanging there like something picked up and held in place.
Cassian knew the entire Wraith clan was made up of die-hard followers of the Demon King, their loyalty bordering on obsession, and that was exactly why this reaction didn't surprise him.
"…Fanatics," he muttered, pressing his fingers briefly against his forehead.
Jasper stayed suspended in front of him, legs barely touching the ground, completely unable to move.
"If you die," Cassian said, his voice steady, "who exactly is supposed to handle my affairs in this city? Or are you planning to abandon your duties entirely?"
Jasper froze, the words hitting harder than anything else.
"N-no, Your Majesty—"
"Then act like it."
The invisible hold didn't loosen.
Jasper swallowed, then forced himself to steady his voice. "Then… Your Majesty… does this mean you'll be staying in this city for some time?"
"Yes," Cassian replied. "And while I'm here, you'll handle everything."
Jasper blinked, the meaning settling in slowly.
"…Does that mean…" he hesitated for a second, then pushed through it, "you're asking me to serve directly under you?"
"Yes."
For a moment, he just stared.
Then his expression changed completely.
The panic, the guilt—it all vanished, replaced by something brighter, almost overwhelming. His face lit up like he had just been handed something far beyond what he expected.
"Your Majesty…" his voice dropped. "You can leave everything to me. I won't fail you."
Cassian released the hold.
Jasper landed properly this time, straightening immediately, his earlier state gone as if it had never been there.
"I'll make sure everything in this city runs exactly how you want it," he continued, his tone firm now. "Whatever you need, I'll have it prepared."
Cassian watched him for a moment, then turned slightly, his eyes shifting toward the exit.
"Then start by fixing this place."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
***
After some time, the store no longer looked like it had been left to rot. The shelves were cleared, items sorted, and the dust mostly gone, though the place still carried a rough edge.
Jasper stood nearby, watching Cassian as he sat in the chair, his expression unsettled, as if he still hadn't fully processed what he had heard earlier.
"So… Your Majesty," he began, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice, "you're really planning to attend the academy?"
To him, it still sounded absurd. The Demon King, the strongest existence on the continent, walking into a human academy as a student didn't fit any logic he knew.
Cassian remained seated, his attention on the book in his hand as he flipped another page.
"Yes."
Jasper let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh slipping through. "I thought I misheard. Why would someone like you even consider stepping into a place like that?"
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if the idea itself carried weight.
"Are you planning something bigger? Taking control of it, removing anyone in your way, and using it as a starting point for invasion?"
The book left Cassian's hand without warning, crossing the distance in an instant before striking Jasper clean across the face and cutting off his words mid-sentence.
"Stop making assumptions," Cassian said, his tone calm but firm. "I came here for something else. It has nothing to do with invasion."
Jasper stepped back, rubbing his face, but the look in his eyes didn't soften. If anything, it sharpened.
"But isn't it about time?" he pressed, his voice gaining an edge. "The human side has been getting bolder. They speak as if they're above you, twist every event to place blame on you, and spread it like truth."
His expression darkened.
"They insult you openly, Your Majesty, and act like there are no consequences."
He took a step forward, unable to hold back what had clearly been building for a while.
"And now they've started moving around the hero's bloodline again," Jasper said, his voice tightening. "Calling some random kid—someone who hasn't even proven anything—the hero destined to kill you."
"Destined to kill me?" Cassian said as the book flew back into his hand. "I've already heard it, and I don't care. That 'destiny' amounts to nothing," he added, deciding it was better that no one knew about his plans.
"Then give the order," he said quickly, stepping closer. "I'll arrange it. We take him out before anything starts, hang what's left in the capital streets, and make sure everyone understands—"
Cassian's gaze lifted.
"If I hear you say 'invade' one more time," he said, his voice low and steady, "I'll throw you out and have another wraith assigned here."
Jasper stopped mid-sentence.
"…Then what about the war, Your Majesty?"
Cassian raised his hand slightly.
Jasper went silent on instinct.
"Stop talking about violence like it's the only answer," Cassian said. "And stop dragging everything toward war."
"Bring me materials related to the academy entrance test."
Jasper straightened at once. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He didn't waste another second and left immediately, not daring to add anything further.
*****
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