Was it foresight or simply a coincidence? Just as Muria was deliberating whether he should prey upon his own kin to acquire more royal blood crystals, his father, Fernand, sent him some critical information on the subject.
"Only royal family members who have undergone at least three awakenings, and who voluntarily choose to do so, can leave behind a royal blood crystal. Otherwise, all their power dissipates upon death."
Muria stared at the pile of ashes on the table before him, remnants of the letter that had spontaneously combusted after being read. He couldn't help but smile wryly at the revelation.
"Well, it seems yesterday's idea is a dead end. Not that I would've resorted to something so extreme anyway. But this means the only reliable source for these crystals is my father himself."
Muria leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Given the mastery of power I've demonstrated, he shouldn't be too stingy with me, right?"
The difficulty of obtaining a royal blood crystal was evident. But it made sense. If the power of the royal family could be easily seized and absorbed by others, the Gayle kingdom's royal lineage would have long descended into chaos.
The condition of voluntary donation ensured that power could only be passed on with consent, preventing acts of regicide or patricide that might otherwise occur in a family with such potent abilities.
Muria had already sensed the tremendous power emanating from his father's chest—a power that clearly did not belong to Fernand. It seemed likely he could only barely wield it.
"That must be the Gayle throne's inheritance. Based on the nature of the royal bloodline's powers, it's probably a cumulative force passed down from the very first king."
Muria's eyes gleamed with interest. "If that's the case, the power contained in that crystal must be immense. If I could obtain it, I could save myself years of effort."
The thought spurred him on. "Another reason to secure the throne of Gayle."
"Prince Arnold, please come with us."
Three days later, as Muria's confinement ended, a group of royal guards clad in ceremonial armor arrived at his door.
Under their escort, Muria was led to a dimly lit palace chamber where Fernand awaited him.
"Change into this," Fernand said curtly, tossing Muria a loose-fitting robe.
Muria caught the garment and cast a glance around the room. In the corner stood a glowing, intricately engraved array—a teleportation circle. The magical energy it emanated was unmistakable.
"Arnold," Fernand began, "I'm sending you to a place only I know. There, you'll undergo a rigorous training program I've arranged for you. When you complete it and meet my expectations, you'll receive a reward worthy of your efforts."
"I want a royal blood crystal," Muria stated bluntly, ignoring the rest of his father's explanation. He wasn't interested in any training regimen—he only cared about one thing.
"You'll find what you seek where I'm sending you," Fernand replied without hesitation.
Reassured, Muria said no more. He changed into the provided robe and stepped onto the teleportation circle as instructed. With a flash of light, he vanished, leaving the oppressive chamber behind.
"Fifteen years old," Fernand murmured to himself after Muria disappeared. "If he succeeds, he'll become the youngest king in Gayle's history."
His gaze lingered on the now-dormant teleportation circle. "Arnold, don't disappoint me. If you want to be king at fifteen, you'll need power rivaling that of the first king. Anything less, and you won't hold the throne for long."
With a heavy heart, Fernand gestured to the guards. They poured molten metal into the cracks of the teleportation circle, sealing it permanently.
"If he completes his training, he'll find his way back. If not, then he was never meant to claim the throne."
Muria now stood atop a towering mountain peak, gazing down at the rolling sea of clouds below. He turned back briefly to examine the crude teleportation circle behind him.
It was in poor condition, but Muria's expertise in magic arrays told him it was reparable. Given enough time, he could restore it to full functionality and even reduce its energy consumption by half.
But he saw no reason to bother. His father had made his intentions clear—this was where he was meant to be. Returning prematurely would only invite trouble.
As Muria pondered his next move, a voice called out from above.
"Are you the son of Fernand?"
Muria looked up to see a massive figure descending from the sky. A giant, nearly twenty meters tall, with iron-gray skin and metallic wings spread wide behind him. A single spiral horn jutted from his forehead.
"Yes," Muria replied calmly, showing no surprise at the sight of the enormous being. From his appearance, Muria deduced that this was likely a human who had undergone multiple awakenings.
"I heard Fernand has over a hundred children. Some of them are already grown. What makes you, so young, special enough for him to send to us for training?"
Before Muria could respond, a swirling mass of clouds coalesced nearby. From the mist emerged a graceful figure—a woman seemingly made entirely of vapor. Her movements were fluid, her form ephemeral.
"Because he's the most gifted among them," another voice chimed in, old and raspy.
This time, it wasn't a figure descending from the sky, but one rising from the earth. Water vapor condensed into the shape of an elderly man who appeared wholly unremarkable—at least at first glance.
"The most gifted? How gifted?" the giant asked skeptically, his piercing gaze fixed on Muria's diminutive form.
"Why don't you let the prince himself demonstrate?" the old man suggested with a kind smile, his demeanor radiating warmth and patience.
"Show us why Fernand sent you here," the giant commanded, crossing his massive arms. "If you fail to impress, I'll leave. I don't waste time on weaklings."
Muria stepped forward, unfazed by the giant's imposing presence. He allowed his body to transform, flames tracing across his skin as his fire-wrought patterns emerged. His frame expanded, muscles coiling with power, until he stood as a towering, fearsome demon-like figure.
Unlike before, this time his robe adapted with him, sparing him the indignity of shredded clothing.
"Hmm, this form…" the misty woman mused, studying Muria intently. "If I'm not mistaken, this is what a Gayle royal achieves after their second awakening."
"Correct," the giant confirmed. "I witnessed Fernand's second awakening myself. This is indeed the same form."
"And how old are you?" the giant asked, his tone sharp.
"Five," Muria replied.
"Impressive," the giant said, nodding with approval.
"My second awakening came from absorbing a royal blood crystal, not through natural progression," Muria clarified, downplaying his accomplishment.
"Doesn't matter," the misty woman interjected dismissively. "The fact that you could absorb it at all proves your worth. Some can't even manage that without years of effort."
"Exactly," the giant agreed. "Five years old and already at your second awakening? You've earned my time. I'll train you."
"Not so fast," Muria retorted, his tone unyielding. "Why should I accept you as my teacher? What can you offer me?"
The giant chuckled, clearly amused by Muria's boldness. "I can teach you how to slaughter armies and lead your forces to victory, no matter the odds."
Satisfied, Muria turned to the misty woman, who had maintained her ethereal elegance throughout the exchange.
"And you?"
"I'll teach you how to rule as a king," she replied.
"Were you a queen?"
"Once," she admitted.
"And now?"
"I stepped down and handed the throne to my sister. Being a ruler is boring."
Muria stared at her silently, then turned his attention to the elderly man.
"I have nothing specific to teach you," the old man said with a gentle smile. "It depends on what you wish to learn."
Hearing this, Muria felt a spark of understanding. Among the three teachers Fernand had chosen for him, he now had a clear sense of who was the most formidable.
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