If you had seen Kamia the day before the ceremony, you would have sworn it was a festival thrown by lunatics with optimism problems.
We had no noble architecture.
We had one road.
Half the market stalls wobbled like drunk chair legs.
The training grounds were still just a field with rocks of dramatically varied usefulness.
And yet…
By dawn, the sky over Kamia was full of color.
Tessa had coaxed the wind spirits into carrying ribbons of woven light overhead, shimmering like northern stars trapped and stretched thin.
Lune had painted sigils along the main street that glowed faintly underfoot, directing visitors, because even in a fantasy world, nobody knows where anything is.
I had shaped the plaza.
The stone rose as willingly as breath.
Smooth white pillars, warm-toned arches, an open circle where the ceremonial flame could burn.
Not grand like a palace.
Grand like a promise.
---
People Came.
First in twos and threes.
Then in cart caravans.
Then in lines stretching back to the treeline.
Adventurers—scarred, laughing too loud, smelling like leather and danger.
Merchants—already arguing over stall placement.
Mages—eyes bright with the hunger of knowledge.
Beast tamers—followed by everything from wolves to a feathered lizard that hissed only when happy.
Children pointed at the spirit-lights.
Old travelers wiped their eyes like they'd remembered hope existed.
And then—
Word spread faster than the wind:
"The Hero King is coming."
---
The Hero King of Legion
King Asterion Valen.
War-born.
Mage-slayer.
The man who broke the Siege of Crestfall with nothing but a rusted sword and the will to walk forward when no one else could.
The kind of king who leads from the front and laughs like thunder.
When he arrived, he did not bring a parade.
He came on foot.
Cloak dusty.
Crown in a saddlebag.
Sword worn, not polished.
A king who didn't need to prove he was one.
He looked at Kamia like a man seeing the first sunrise after a life of rain.
"…So this is the place everyone is whispering about," he said.
His voice was warm. Tired. Curious.
I bowed. Not low. Just enough.
"Welcome to Kamia, Your Majesty."
He grinned — like he approved.
---
The Ceremony
At the heart of the plaza burned a flame made from the Paradox Engine's awakening energy.
Silver-white, swirling, alive.
The flame did not burn the air.
It hummed like a living chord.
Everyone gathered around.
Tension thick.
Hope louder than drums.
I stepped forward.
No crown.
No armor.
Just me.
And the flame.
---
"Today," I said, "you choose not what you want to be— but who you are willing to become."
The crowd quieted like someone had taken the world and pressed pause.
I raised my hand — and the flame separated into four drifting embers, each hovering over one of the stone pillars behind me.
---
Paths of Kurolussa
Magic
For those who seek knowledge of the unseen, the whispered forces, the shaping of reality.
The ember flared blue-white.
Swordsmanship
For those who walk forward when others step back. Those who sharpen themselves more than the blade.
The ember glowed red-gold.
Beast Taming
For those who listen more than they speak. Who make companions, not weapons, of the wild.
The ember pulsed green.
Scholar / Research
For those who break the world down to understand how to rebuild it.
For the thinkers.
The quiet.
The relentless.
The ember shone pale gold.
---
I did not call names.
They stepped forward themselves.
One by one.
A baker's son who always looked at fire like it was speaking to him — chose Magic.
A former soldier, trembling but determined — chose Swordsmanship.
A girl who had never spoken in more than a whisper — placed her hand on the Beast Tamer pillar, and a great white hawk landed quietly beside her.
A traveling merchant — to everyone's shock — chose Scholar, saying softly, "I'm tired of selling the world. I want to understand it."
Each choice was quiet.
But each one changed something.
Inside them.
Inside Kamia.
Inside me.
---
But the Moment Everyone Remembered Was This:
The last to step forward was Yoren.
He walked to the Swordsmanship pillar.
No hesitation.
He touched it.
The ember burst — not in fire — but in wind, swirling around him, lifting his hair, shining his eyes.
No one spoke.
Then, a gentle vibration echoed in the air — the voice of the Paradox System, felt rather than heard:
---
〈Path Affinity Confirmed: Swordmaster〉
〈Dormant Talent Awakened〉
〈Eight-Fold Blade Heart — Stage One〉
---
The crowd gasped.
Even the Hero King's expression changed.
Interest sharpened to recognition.
He stepped forward.
Stopped three paces away.
"Boy," he said quietly. "Someday, I would like to cross swords with you."
Yoren blinked.
Then bowed — lower than anyone had today.
"I'd be honored, Your Majesty."
---
And Kamia erupted.
Cheers.
Drums.
Laughter.
Music.
The beginning of something alive.
Even King Asterion smiled like a man remembering joy.
And in that moment—
Kamia was no longer a hopeful camp.
It was a place the world had decided to watch.
A seed.
A promise.
A spark.
The first breath of an empire named KUROLUSSA