Chapter Two

  The Will of the Throne

  The next day– As morning broke over the capital in gold and red.

  A roar.

  Once more signaling the start of a new day, the foundation of Drakon once more resounding.

  Arcane broadcast pylons activated across the city, crystalline arrays humming as runic light gathered at their cores. Massive projection screens mounted upon towers and public squares flickered to life. Markets paused. Factories slowed. Soldiers in barracks turned their heads.

  The Imperial Seal pulsed across every display.

  An unscheduled transmission.

  Inside the Grand Council Chamber, confusion erupted as the ministers– awaiting the daily meeting were surprised.

  “Who authorized this?” demanded Minister Halvek, clutching a stack of documents. “The broadcast cycle is not until-”

  The doors opened.

  Prince Kael entered in full military regalia.

  Not ceremonial robes.

  Not Imperial garments.

  Not council attire.

  But a black coat lined with crimson and gold thread. Golden dragon insignia over his heart. A blade at his hip.

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  Behind him walked no herald.

  No advisory escort.

  Only silence.

  The projection array in the chamber flared brighter, linking his image to every broadcast tower in the capital– and beyond it, to provincial hubs across the empire.

  He did not take the Dragon Throne.

  He stood before it.

  And the empire watched.

  Citizens looked up from forges, from fields, from skyship decks. Soldiers in border fortresses straightened instinctively. Even distant governors paused as the image of the Emperor filled their halls.

  The citizens were in anticipation as the once unsmiling emperor now had a visible grin on his cold face.

  “For seven thousand years,” he began, his voice steady and amplified through magic, “the Drakon Empire has endured.”

  The city quieted.

  “We have survived the remnants of the Age of Gods. We repelled demonic incursions. We have crushed rival kingdoms. We have expanded, adapted, refined.”

  In the chamber, the ministers exchanged uneasy glances.

  No proposal had been submitted.

  No vote had been cast.

  No deliberation had occurred.

  Kael continued.

  “And yet the world remains divided.”

  The war-map behind him shimmered to life across every projection, borders glowing red against foreign lands.

  “Fragmented powers. Fractured alliances. Nations clinging to sovereignty while demons gather beyond their horizons.”

  Minister Halvek stepped forward, whispering urgently to another.

  “He cannot—”

  Kael raised his hand.

  And something shifted.

  It began subtly.

  A pressure in the air.

  A warmth beneath the skin.

  Then.

  The Dragon Throne ignited.

  Not with flame.

  With light.

  Gold and crimson radiance flowed outward from it like a rising tide, spreading across the chamber floor in intricate sigils unseen by mortal eyes but felt by every living soul present.

  Power stirred. A power only available to the ruler of a nation. Its Fortune, or “national fortune” as it is called

  It was not summoned violently.

  But silently acknowledged.

  The ministers fell silent mid-breath.

  The air grew heavy.

  Even the runic lanterns above their heads flickered.

  Kael’s eyes glowed faintly, not with magic of the arcane path, nor martial cultivation, nor alchemical augmentation. It was gold and red.

  This was something else.

  The weight of millions.

  The will of 7,000 years.

  Behind those eyes wasn't a man, it was the empire itself.

  “I have reviewed your proposals,” he said calmly. “Dams. Shelters. Grain storage.”

  His gaze swept across them.

  “All necessary.”

  A pause.

  “But insufficient.”

  The pressure intensified.

  Across the empire, citizens felt it—a subtle resonance in their bones, as if history itself had inhaled and took a breath for this moment that will shape generations to come.

  Kael stepped forward.

  “The Drakon Empire will no longer stand idly by and watch the world fight itself in chaos and division.”

  A murmur rippled through cities.

  Through provinces.

  Through distant military outposts.

  “We enter a new era.”

  Minister Halvek found his voice.

  “Your Highness, such declarations require—”

  Kael turned toward him.

  The power of the Emperor flared.

  Halvek staggered back as if struck by an invisible force. Not harmed—only overwhelmed.

  Kael’s voice lowered.

  “Require what?”

  Silence.

  The golden-red aura deepened, filling the chamber like liquid sunlight. The carved dragons along the ceiling seemed almost alive in its glow.