Trickster stood at the grand entry gate of the royal castle.Two towering guards, clad in heavy gleaming armor, stood on each side — the Royal Guardians, known as the king's personal protectors. Their presence alone was enough to make most men hesitate.
The guards recognized him immediately and moved aside, letting him through without a word. Trickster walked past them quietly, his steps steady as he entered the castle.
After a short walk inside, a young man—around eighteen, with blond hair and sharp, watchful eyes—stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
He is Prince Kaelion, the youngest son of the king.
"So, you've come… today," Kaelion said, a faint smirk curling on his lips as he casually draped an arm around Trickster's shoulder and walked beside him. "You know, I still don't like you."
Trickster brushed Kaelion's arm aside, their eyes locking — tension thick in the air, both looking ready to throw the first punch.
Before it could happen, a calm yet firm voice cut through the hall. "Oh, come on, you two can't just fight here."
They turned to see Princess Seraphina, the king's eldest daughter — a graceful young woman of twenty-one, her poise commanding enough to stop even Kaelion mid-motion.
"Tsk, you lucky bastard," Kaelion muttered before turning away and heading down the corridor.
Seraphina smiled softly as she approached. "Hello, Trickster. It's been a long time since we last met… I think I was ten, and you were eleven. You still haven't changed at all."
"Yeah. So where's King Aldric taking this meeting?" Trickster asked. "Well, where else?" Seraphina replied with a faint smile. "In his usual place — the royal assembly hall, You're going there already? And here I thought you'd at least talk a little more," she sighed, shaking her head. "Sheesh… this guy."
Trickster stepped into the grand assembly hall filled with warriors of every kind. As soon as he entered, the chatter faded into murmurs. Eyes turned toward him — some curious, others cold — but he walked straight ahead, calm and silent.
The king entered — tall, broad-shouldered, and surprisingly youthful for someone with a twenty-one-year-old daughter. His presence filled the hall, not with intimidation but with a bright, commanding energy. A confident smile rested on his face, the kind that made even tension feel lighter.
Beside him walked the queen — elegant and composed, her silver hair flowing like silk. Unlike the king's lively aura, hers was calm and commanding, her sharp violet eyes holding a quiet power that drew every gaze.
The King and Queen took their seats upon the grand dais."So, I assume you all know why I've gathered you here," the King began, his voice echoing through the hall. "Every one of you will take part in the upcoming mission."
His gaze shifted toward the quiet figure standing at the back. "Trickster, step forward. I have something to discuss with you."
"So, I heard you and that elf friend of yours destroyed the easy-level underworld? Is that true?"
"Yeah," Trickster replied flatly. "Because it was easy."
The King burst into laughter, leaning back on his throne. "Ha! Not at all, my guy! You never fail to amuse me—you're always the most interesting one here."
The King said calmly, "So, you know why we're here — for the mission. But don't worry, you don't have to take part in tomorrow's game—"
Before he could finish, Trickster cut in, his voice firm but disinterested. "Sorry, but I'm here to reject your offer. Missions are such a hassle."
Everyone was stunned — no one had ever dared speak so casually before the king inside his own castle. A heavy silence filled the room.
The queen leaned closer, murmuring with a faint smile, "Well, well… what a bold man he is."
The king burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the hall. "Ha ha ha! I knew you'd say something like that, Trickster. But tell me—" his expression turned serious, "what if this mission has to do with the Demon Lord's general, Val'gorath?"
The moment the king mentioned Val'gorath, Trickster's aura shifted—cold and terrifying. The entire hall fell silent, goosebumps rising on everyone's skin.
Trickster's voice cut through the air. "King, I don't know how you know about that guy… but if it's him, I'm in."
The queen smiled faintly, her eyes glinting. "Looks like we've found his trigger."
"Now this is the Trickster we want," the king said with a grin. "The one who demolished the underworld itself."
He leaned forward on his throne. "Tomorrow's game will decide three squad leaders—but you, Trickster, will simply watch. The fourth squad will be under your command. You've already proven your worth as a leader… and someone personally recommended you for it."
Eleza entered the hall, her presence calm yet commanding. The crowd instantly bowed in respect. Trickster's eyes lingered on her for a moment — silent, unreadable — before he looked away, as if nothing had changed.
Eleza stepped forward, placing the bracelet gently into the king's hand. The king leaned back with a playful grin, his voice carrying through the hall. "You really didn't know, did you, Trickster? She's not just any elf — she's a Royal Guardian–rank protector. I personally assigned her to watch you, to see if the rumors about your skills were true. Guess what, you passed with flying colors."
Eleza walked up to him, her steps calm and composed. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she said softly, "So, all that talk about wanting to live among humans, to explore the world… was just a lie?"
"Well, anything for my mission," she replied with a faint smile. "And sorry—don't take it personally."
Trickster met her gaze, his tone steady. "It wasn't much of a surprise to me. I already sensed it back at the underworld gate. You were hiding something… your real power."
The king rose from his throne with a wave of his hand. "That will be all for today. Rest well, everyone—tomorrow marks the beginning of something grand."
The hall echoed with the sound of armor and footsteps as the assembly dispersed. One by one, the warriors left until the room stood silent. Trickster and Eleza walked their separate ways, each heading toward their assigned quarters.
Trickster woke to the quiet of night, moonlight slipping through the curtains. Seraphina sat beside his bed, holding a cup of tea.
"You finally woke up," she said softly. "You've been out the whole day."
He sat up, rubbing his neck. "Didn't expect to see you here."
She smiled faintly. "Well, I was bored… and you looked too peaceful to ignore."
"You shouldn't listen to my brother," Seraphine said with a small sigh. "He's an idiot most of the time. Just… take care of yourself, alright?"
She looked down, her voice softening. "I'm honestly glad you're not fighting tomorrow. The others — they're beasts, the best this kingdom has."
"Anyway, I hope you enjoy tomorrow. Goodbye," Seraphine said with a faint smile before leaving the room.
As the door closed, Trickster exhaled quietly. He sat cross-legged on the floor, slipping into an hour of silent meditation. Afterward, he headed to the training hall, practiced until sweat traced his jawline, then returned — calm, steady, and wordless as ever.
Steam curled around him as he bathed, water sliding down the lines of his chest.
His fingers brushed against an old scar — the one that never truly healed.
In an instant, his breath quickened. His body tensed. He gritted his teeth, clutching his hair as if trying to pull the memory out of his head. The sound of dripping water filled the silence, steady… almost mocking.