"I remember you once told me that you wanted to make Gai the strongest nation in the world. Back then, I dismissed it as the naive words of a child. But now I see you were serious—and you even have a detailed plan to achieve it," Fernand said with a sigh, a mix of admiration and exhaustion in his tone. He had glimpsed the ambition and grand vision embedded within Muria's proposed reforms.
"Anything I say, I'll make sure I deliver," Muria replied. He understood that Fernand didn't truly support his reforms. Rather, his father knew he was running out of time and lacked the strength to stop him.
All Fernand could do now was lend Muria his support while praying for the success of his son's reforms.
"Call in your three teachers. I have something to discuss with them," Fernand said with a wave of his hand, a hint of weariness creeping into his expression.
Although he didn't want to admit it, Fernand was shaken by his son's ideas. What left him even more drained was the realization that he couldn't stop Muria, even if he wanted to.
Of all his children—his eldest son included—none could compare to the power wielded by this ten-year-old. Unable to oppose him, Fernand had no choice but to accept Muria's plans.
"Understood," Muria replied with a nod before turning to leave. He went to summon the three teachers waiting outside. He suspected that Fernand was preparing to entrust them with the task of assisting him after his passing.
That very evening, having confirmed that his three old friends were willing to remain and guide Arnold, Fernand convened a meeting with all the generals and ministers still stationed in the royal capital. Without any preamble, he announced the next heir to the throne.
As expected, Fernand looked down from his throne to see a sea of stunned and confused faces. The gathered officials, hastily summoned for the announcement, were completely floored by his decision.
When they first heard Fernand proclaim the next heir, they were surprised but not shocked. After all, he had over a hundred children, and one of them had to inherit the throne eventually. It was reasonable to settle the matter early for the kingdom's stability.
What stunned them, however, was Fernand's choice: a mere ten-year-old. Such a decision seemed utterly foolish and reckless, no matter how one looked at it.
"Your Majesty, I have no objection to you naming a successor. But isn't it highly inappropriate for Prince Arnold to take on this role? He is only ten years old!"
As soon as Fernand finished announcing his decision, a minister immediately stepped forward to object. His protest wasn't driven by self-interest; he genuinely believed the appointment was unwise.
Once someone had spoken up, the floodgates opened. One after another, nearly all the generals and ministers voiced their opposition, echoing the same sentiment: Arnold was far too young for such a heavy responsibility.
Their objections were predictable. Most of them knew little about the prince—just a couple of anecdotes, at most. But that didn't matter. Arnold's age alone was reason enough for them to protest.
"What's this? Do you all think I've gone senile? Or that I'm letting favoritism cloud my judgment? As soon as I make an announcement, you all leap to oppose it?"
Fernand's voice was calm, tinged with mockery. The chorus of dissent didn't surprise him; he had anticipated this reaction. If the court had simply agreed with his decision without question, he would have been more concerned—enough to consider replacing some of his ministers.
"Your Majesty, we mean no disrespect. We merely believe that Prince Arnold's age makes him unsuitable as crown prince. Such a decision would harm Gai rather than benefit it," the elder minister who had first objected explained.
"And what harm do you think I will bring to Gai as crown prince?"
A youthful, clear voice suddenly rang out. The ministers looked up in surprise to see a black-haired, handsome boy standing beside the throne, his face expressionless as he surveyed them.
"This is Arnold, the next heir to Gai's throne," Fernand said, introducing his son to the gathered officials. "Many of you are meeting him for the first time, so take a good look. When you see him in the future, don't forget to bow to your king."
Fernand even attempted a small joke, though it elicited no laughter from the room.
"Prince Arnold, since you've asked, I will outline the potential harm your appointment could bring," the elder minister said, bowing slightly to the boy before launching into his argument.
"First, your selection as crown prince will inevitably provoke resentment among your siblings. Some of them will refuse to accept you as heir. This could lead to internal strife, potentially fracturing Gai as we see happening in As."
"That's a minor issue," Muria replied with a faint smile. "Anyone who refuses to accept me can discuss it with me personally. I'll 'convince' them."
Muria's tone carried a trace of humor, but his confidence in his ability to "convince" his siblings through physical force—or, failing that, permanent removal—was evident.
"And how exactly would you convince them, Prince Arnold?" the minister pressed, refusing to let the matter drop. "At your age, you lack the abilities your elder siblings possess."
"What nonsense is this? You think I can't compare to them? How laughable," Muria said, his gaze indifferent as he looked at the minister.
"Not to insult my siblings, but not one of them—even if they all joined forces—could stand against me. In fact, they wouldn't last against just one of my hands."
"You ask how I'll convince them? I'll convince them with overwhelming strength," Muria declared.
As he spoke, black and red flames ignited around him. Horns curved upward from his forehead, and massive, demonic wings unfurled from his back. His muscular tail lashed the air.
In mere moments, Muria had transformed into a ten-meter-tall behemoth, exuding an oppressive aura of destructive heat as he loomed over the now-panicked ministers.
"Is this... five awakenings?" one of the ministers whispered, his voice trembling with shock.
"No, it can't be. The royal bloodline's fifth awakening doesn't look like this. And even if it were, it wouldn't exert this level of pressure," a heavily armored general countered, his knees nearly buckling under the weight of Muria's presence.
"What's going on?"
The chaos in the hall quickly subsided as all eyes turned to Fernand, who remained seated on his throne, watching calmly.
"I know what you're all thinking," Fernand said, breaking the silence. "Let me be clear: I have not passed the King's Seal to him. The power Arnold wields is entirely his own."
The hall fell silent. Ministers and generals exchanged uneasy glances, their objections evaporating in the face of Muria's overwhelming display of strength.
But Muria wasn't done.
"Keep talking," he said, his gaze locking onto the elder minister. "You've only mentioned one issue with me becoming crown prince. What else?"
The elder minister remained silent, his earlier arguments now seeming laughable. In this world, strength reigned supreme. Muria's age, which had once seemed a disadvantage, now appeared irrelevant.
With such power at his command, Muria's potential was immeasurable. To deny him the throne would be the true disaster for Gai. None of his siblings could ever hope to surpass him.
"Why aren't you speaking?" Muria asked, turning his gaze to the rest of the ministers and generals. "If he won't continue, then one of you can step forward. Didn't you all oppose my appointment just now?"
"Your Highness, please forgive our shortsightedness. We judged you based on your age without understanding your true abilities," the elder minister finally admitted, bowing his head in submission.
"It's fine. Ignorance isn't a crime," Muria replied magnanimously, reverting to his human form. His gaze swept across the room, taking in every face.
"Does anyone else oppose my appointment? If so, stand up and state your reasons."
The hall remained deathly still. Not a single person dared to move or speak.
"Good," Muria said with a satisfied nod. "It seems everyone agrees with my succession."
"In that case," Fernand said, rising from his throne, "I will sign the royal decree and announce this decision to the nation tomorrow."
With Muria's power and talent silencing any opposition, Fernand formally declared the decision the next day, sending shockwaves across the kingdom.
Nobles, both great and small, whispered amongst themselves, while commoners speculated with excitement and anxiety. For those at the bottom, a new king's ascension could mean the difference between life and death.
Among those most enraged were Muria's siblings—those who had considered themselves legitimate contenders for the throne. They, and the factions backing them, now turned their attention to this unexpected rival, a younger brother they had never seen as a threat.
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