The walk to the central plaza felt like a death march. Every step echoed on the silent cobblestones, a stark reminder of the eyes he knew were watching from the shadows. Valeria led the way, her back a rigid wall of defiance. Luna followed a few paces behind Shin, a silent, reassuring presence.
The plaza opened up before them, a vast expanse of polished, grey stone surrounded by towering, silent buildings. In the very center stood a raised platform of black obsidian, about the size of a small stage, unadorned except for a single, ancient-looking rune carved into its surface. This was it. The stage for his coronation, and his public humiliation.
As they stepped into the plaza, the city seemed to come alive. Doors creaked open. Shutters parted. People emerged from the alleyways and hidden corners, not as a cheering crowd, but as a congregation of ghosts. They were a sea of pale, fearful faces, their eyes wide with a mixture of hope and profound skepticism. They kept their distance, forming a wide circle around the obsidian stage, their collective silence heavier than any shout.
Valeria mounted the stage and turned to face him, her expression a mask of cold challenge. She slammed the flat of her greatsword against the obsidian, the sound ringing like a funeral bell across the plaza.
"Well, my king?" she called out, her voice dripping with condescension. "Your people await."
Shin's legs felt like lead. He forced one foot in front of the other, his heart hammering against his ribs with such force he thought it might burst. He climbed the three steps onto the platform, the smooth, cold stone doing nothing to cool the fire of his panic. He turned to face the crowd.
Hundreds of eyes stared back at him. He saw their fear, their desperation, their doubt. He was just a man. A soft-faced stranger in a world of magic and monsters. What could he possibly say to them?
He opened his mouth, but his throat was sandpaper. The words caught, tangled, and died. He saw a mother pull her child closer. He saw an old man shake his head in disbelief. The weight of their expectations crushed him.
"Ehm... uh... uh..." he stammered, his voice a pathetic squeak that was swallowed by the immense silence. "W-wahai rakyatku..." My people...
The words hung in the air, a fragile, pathetic thing. A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. Valeria's smirk widened into a cruel, triumphant grin.
"Is this it?" she boomed, her voice carrying to every corner of the plaza. "Is this the savior the goddess promised us? A boy who cannot even speak?"
Laughter, bitter and sharp, erupted from a few in the crowd. It was the final push. The humiliation was absolute. The old Shin, the office worker who was fired and dumped, was drowning in shame.
But something else stirred in the wreckage. A spark. A cold, hard anger. Who is she to mock me? Who are they to doubt me? I was chosen!
That spark ignited. The divine energy Luna had given him, the Aura of Kingship, surged through him like a tidal wave. It wasn't a gentle warmth; it was a roaring inferno. The air around him began to hum, shimmering with a faint, golden light. His posture straightened, his shoulders squared. The panic vanished, replaced by a cold, crystalline clarity.
He looked at Valeria, not with fear, but with a gaze that made her take an involuntary step back. He looked at the crowd, and they fell silent, their laughter dying in their throats as they felt the raw power radiating from him.
When Shin spoke again, his voice was no longer his own. It was deeper, resonant, an ancient command that vibrated in the very stones of the city.
"Silence."
The single word cut through the plaza like a shard of ice. Every head bowed. Every eye averted. Even Valeria stood frozen, her smirk gone, replaced by a look of pure shock.
Shin took a slow, deliberate step towards her, his boots making no sound on the obsidian. He stopped directly in front of her, his gaze boring into hers.
"The Rite," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr that promised both pleasure and pain. "Begins. Now."
His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her armored wrist. The contrast was stark—his bare, mortal flesh against the cold, enchanted steel. Valeria tensed, her muscles like steel cables, and tried to yank her arm free, a growl of pure defiance building in her throat.
But his grip was like an unbreakable vise, infused with a power that had nothing to do with physical strength. It was the weight of a crown, the force of a divine command.
With a single, effortless tug, he pulled her off balance. She stumbled forward, her body crashing against his with a muffled thud of steel against cloth. The impact stole the air from her lungs. For the first time in years, Valeria was caught off guard. She was pressed against the hard, warm line of his body, and she could feel the raw, untamed power thrumming just beneath his skin. The scent of ozone and raw masculinity filled her senses.
Humiliation burned hot in her veins, but beneath it, a terrifying, unfamiliar spark ignited. This was not a battle of steel. It was a conquest of will.
"Let go of me," she snarled, but her voice lacked its usual conviction. It was a breathy whisper, lost in the space between them.
Shin ignored her. His other hand moved to the chest plate of her armor. He didn't fumble with the complex leather straps and steel buckles. He simply touched the central rune etched there—a rune of protection—and with a soft, resonant click, the enchantment broke. The entire breastplate fell away, clattering onto the obsidian stage with a sound that echoed like a thunderclap in the silent plaza.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Their unbreakable champion had been disarmed by a touch.
Beneath the armor, Valeria wore only a simple, sweat-dampened linen tunic. The frantic rise and fall of her chest was now visible, the frantic beat of her heart a frantic drum against his own. She was exposed. Vulnerable.
Luna watched from the edge of the plaza, a slow, satisfied smile on her lips. It was working. The Rite was not about force; it was about the undeniable assertion of divine right.
Shin leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, just as Luna had done to him. But where Luna's touch was a promise of pleasure, his was a decree of ownership.
"You will submit, Valeria Onheil," he whispered, his voice a low growl that was more felt than heard. "Not because I am stronger, but because I am your king."
He tightened his grip on her wrist and, with a firm, undeniable pressure on her shoulder, guided her down. She resisted for a moment, her warrior's pride screaming in protest, but the divine will be flowing from him was overwhelming. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the cold, hard obsidian stone before him.
The crowd stared in stunned silence, their fear slowly being replaced by a dawning, terrifying awe. The boy was gone. In his place was a king. And their reign had just begun.