SACRAMENTIS: Astral Incarnation

"In a world where crown and heart intertwine, ego is a blazing fire, shaking the throne and subduing the empire.

The meeting in the Throne hall was thick with tension, crackling like fire in the dark. A rotund man with tightly curled hair spoke urgently, his voice echoing through the grand chamber.

"We don't have any more time! We must summon a new Astral Traveler immediately!"

Cautiously, a man presumed to be one of the Acolytes stepped forward, standing beside the Hierophant. The morning light filtering through the stained glass illuminated his face.

"If Duke Klutz is willing to provide the Mana needed for the Mana Stone, then we may be able to consider it," he said in a steady yet resolute tone.

The temple attendants, whom we commonly referred to as Acolytes, exchanged hushed whispers. Among them sat Uncle Arcanis, a Hierophant himself. Unlike Acolytes, who merely served as temple caretakers without significant authority, the position of Hierophant was not one to be held by just anyone.

A sharp protest erupted from the corner of the room, cutting through the rising impatience.

"Are you out of your mind?! That stone will drain the Mana of over a dozen nobles until they're dry! Even then, it still won't be enough!"

"That's the problem," came a firm voice from the dimly lit corner of the room. A male Acolyte stepped forward, his expression grave.

"We don't have enough Mana to carry out the summoning ritual. We are on the brink of disaster." Their voices echoed against the towering walls, mirroring the anxiety gnawing at their hearts.

As silence fell, burdened with unspoken fears, the Throne hall became a battlefield of heated debate—nobles pressing for an immediate summoning. At the same time, temple officials insisted that the Mana Stone was far from ready.

"We cannot afford to wait any longer!" a nobleman urged, his face tense, eyes wide with the terror of the looming threat.

But then, a voice of wisdom cut through the chaos—Uncle Arcanis spoke, his tone steady yet laced with the gravity of the situation.

"We understand your desperation, but we cannot ignore that the Mana Stone has yet to reach the necessary capacity for the summoning ritual." His voice trembled slightly as he continued, haunted by the weight of reality.

"The Gates of Gehenna has been opening uncontrollably over the past year," he said. "For 700 years, the empire has struggled to contain this catastrophe through the annual summoning of Astral Travelers. Yet, we have never seen a significant change. Midgaria is still not free. And now, this past year, things have only worsened."

The attendees swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the grim history embedded in those words. They knew their path toward a secure future was fraught with uncertainty and dangers lurking in every shadow.

"We have faced several major crises over the past year," someone said, returning the conversation to the pressing issue. "Several regions of Midgaria have fallen into the hands of Gehenna's forces. Meanwhile, Midgaria, which has long relied on the combat strength of the Astral Travelers, is now running out of Mana to perform another summoning ritual."

The speaker's voice was calm yet unwavering.

I let out a quiet sigh. Sometimes, I wondered if Midgaria had become too dependent on the power of the Astral Travelers. Many of them had refused our unreasonable demands. But unfortunately, there was little they could do—once they arrived here, there was no way back home.

I scoffed as I watched the nobles and temple officials clashing over the ritual. Darkness loomed over the Throne hall, thickening the air as grim truths were laid bare.

"One month ago, the Gates of Gehenna began opening uncontrollably across multiple regions," a mage revealed, his voice trembling. "Right now, we lost contact with the last Astral Traveler assault team."

The tension in the room grew heavier as the dire situation unraveled further.

"The situation is becoming critical," a temple member added somberly. "Not only have several regions of Midgaria fallen to Gehenna's forces, but we have also nearly lost our entire Astral Traveler population. At this moment, only six remain in prime condition to fight!"

"Not to mention," a Hierophant interjected tensely, "the temple just performed a summoning ritual two months ago. The Mana Stone that stores the energy for the ritual has now been completely depleted."

The most pressing issue was the lack of Mana within the Mana Stone needed for the ritual. Deep within the temple, behind the grand podium, lay a massive door sealed with arcane runes—guarded at all times by two sentinels on rotation. Only through a long and intricate process could one step beyond that door, entering the sacred, winding corridors that led to the hidden chamber where the great crystal, the heart of the Astral Traveler summoning ritual, was protected.

Everyone in the Throne hall remained unsettled, the looming threat growing increasingly overwhelming. With each word spoken, anxiety seeped further into their minds. The empire had no choice but to act swiftly and carefully—if they wished to face the worsening catastrophe and restore balance to a realm shaken by the dark forces of Gehenna.

CLANK!!!

All eyes turned to the cold glint of Duke Klutz's sword as it was drawn roughly from its sheath. The sharp, metallic sound filled the room, heightening the tension beyond words. A battalion commander immediately stepped forward, positioning himself between the Duke and the Hierophants, his body tensed like a living shield, ready to protect them from any real threat.

"Lower your sword, Duke! This is no time for battle!" he urged, his voice firm.

But frustration burned across Duke Klutz's face. "This sword has defended the empire for centuries," he declared, his voice thick with deep-seated despair. "Now, my lands are on the verge of inevitable destruction. Will the empire simply stand by and watch it happen?"

"Argue all you want, Duke!" one of the Hierophants shot back, his voice trembling yet unwavering. "We have stated time and time again—the temple no longer has enough Mana to perform the ritual!"

The meeting hall erupted into chaos, voices clashing in heated debate. The tension in the air mirrored the growing unease that gripped every heart in the room.

On one side, the nobles whose territories teetered on the brink of ruin pressed the Hierophants for immediate action. On the other, the Hierophants stood firm, insisting that the lack of Mana was an insurmountable obstacle. They stood at a perilous crossroads, where the choices they made now would determine the fate of Midgaria.

I cast a glance toward the throne beside me. An elderly man sat there in composed silence, his attention fixed on the documents before him. His red hair, lighter than mine, cascaded slightly over his shoulders, and his weary golden eyes meticulously scanned every line of text. Upon his head rested a grand golden crown, its surface adorned with rare gemstones that framed its regal brilliance.

Theodric Solstara de Hawkins—my grandfather, the Emperor of Midgaria.

"You shaved your mustache, Gramps?" I asked, attempting to lighten the mood with a playful remark.

The Emperor's golden eyes flicked toward me, his face showing restrained annoyance.

"Ah, so you noticed?" he murmured casually. "Do I look more handsome without a mustache? One of your new step-grandmothers suggested it last week."

His unexpected comment nearly made me choke.

"Which one?" I hissed almost too loudly. "Or—don't tell me you've found another concubine?"

Gramps flashed a knowing smile. "Exactly! And if it weren't for this meeting—or all these headaches plaguing me—I'd probably be enjoying her company right now."

I stared at him, torn between admiration and disbelief. Gramps truly had a way of drawing people into his orbit, a fact proven by the sudden appearance of a new consort.

"The empire is on the brink of ruin, and you're still preoccupied with your bedroom affairs?" My voice dripped with disbelief.

"Come now, Nio," Gramps interjected amusedly. "If you weren't so smitten with Zura, you'd probably fall into the same habits."

I shook my head, frustration simmering inside me.

"Hey, what do you think—should we try performing the ritual?" he asked suddenly.

The shift in conversation caught me off guard. Gramps, who had just been boasting about his new consort, was now focused on business. Normally, he'd spend seven days and seven nights with his latest lover, caring little for imperial matters.

"Can we even do that?" I glanced toward the two opposing factions still locked in heated debate. "Didn't the temple say they're out of Mana?"

Gramps set down the documents he'd been holding.

"I held a meeting four days ago," he said, breaking the momentary silence. "Me, Arca, his brother, a few Hierophants, Captain Tavon, and Captain Esmond."

I stared at him, raising an eyebrow, waiting for Gramps to continue his sentence.

"Don't feel offended for not being invited," he continued in a friendly tone. "At the time, you were enjoying your honeymoon with Zura. I didn't want to interrupt such a beautiful moment."

I had the overwhelming urge to douse this old man's face with the water served for everyone in this meeting.

"I'm fifteen years old, old man!" I snapped, cutting him off. "And that night, I was inspecting the aid supplies with Zura!" I tried to calm myself down, feeling the need to justify myself in front of him.

Gramps let out a small chuckle. "Alright, alright, relax a little," he said, his voice turning serious again after his laughter faded. "Looks like your veins are about to pop."

"Time for a serious story," he declared before continuing with something unexpected.

"Arca found an ancient document about a similar situation," he said. "Five hundred years ago, Midgaria faced the same crisis—a depleted Mana Stone after being used, and the Gehenna Gate recklessly remaining open."

I waited patiently, eager to hear the rest of what he had to say. But Gramps fell silent for a moment as if hesitating to continue. Finally, he leaned his weary head against the throne's backrest, his expression tense as if weighing his next words carefully.

"The solution proposed in that ancient document was to refill the stone with Mana from the imperial family, given the blessing of the first emperor's bloodline, which is rich in Mana. But…"

Gramps fell silent, his eyelids shut tightly as if the world's weight was pressing down on him. I held my breath, unwilling to break the suffocating silence that had settled between us. My gaze lingered on the frail body of the old man before me.

"…But the consequence," Gramps finally continued, his voice hoarse, "is that the stone will continue to drain every last drop of Mana from its sacrificers. And that applies even to the imperial family."

My heart pounded faster. A chilling realization gripped me as I imagined the immense sacrifice to save Midgaria.

This wasn't a trivial matter. In a world where magic was an essential element of life, Mana was one of the fundamental pillars sustaining all living beings. Simply put, once someone ran out of Mana, death was inevitable.

A disease called Paralyze was the greatest fear for those who had depleted their Mana. Once afflicted, a person would be faced with only two outcomes—continuing life without magic or succumbing to death.

"Can't we gather the nobles and use their Mana instead, Gramps?" I finally spoke up.

"And how many nobles would willingly take such a massive risk for the empire?"

I fell silent. Many nobles fought not for the empire's sake but merely to protect their territories and power.

I didn't want to agree with the ancient document's solution. Still, it seemed like the only logical option in this crisis.

The Mana Stone could be replenished using someone's magical energy. Rather than calling it replenishment, it was more accurate to say the stone absorbed Mana—provided the person willingly surrendered their energy. However, according to the temple's experiments, only two out of ten people survived the ritual. Even then, those two developed Paralyze and were left nearly crippled due to losing all their Mana.

From what I had heard, both of them perished two years later

from an unknown illness.

I remained silent, deep in thought.

Seeing my reaction, Gramps chuckled and gently ruffled my hair. "Don't worry. Arcanis also found another solution in that document—a solution only the imperial bloodline possesses."

I relished the warmth of his aged palm on my head.

"Just like how the imperial family prays to the Mana Stone when leading the Astral Traveler Summoning Ritual, we can also plead for control over how much Mana is sacrificed."

"Does the ancient document say that this method has ever worked?" I asked, needing confirmation.

"No," Gramps leaned back against his throne. "But there's no harm in trying, don't you think?"

I fell silent, lost in thought.

Letting Gramps gamble his life on an unproven method from an old document in the middle of a crisis sounded reckless. I would be next in line for the throne if something happened to him.

That was far more dangerous than losing a few territories in Midgaria. Many people despised me, and the idea of a crippled crown prince ruling the empire could very well spark a civil war.

Gramps had once mentioned that he planned to deal with this issue before abdicating. Still, given Midgaria's current state, it was clear his preparations weren't ready yet.

"It might be a bold idea in times like this," I finally spoke, "but your death now could trigger a civil war if I take the throne."

"That's why you should hurry up and marry Zura," Gramps teased lightly. "Or Arca will end up being your wedding companion."

"I'm only fifteen, you crazy old man!" I snapped, my irritation rising.

"Bullshit! I married your grandmother when I was fourteen!" the old man shot back, leaning closer. "Or would you rather have Zura as another grandmother in my harem?"

"Stop it!" I groaned, barely holding in my frustration. "Focus on the real issue, old man! The point is that plenty of people want to get rid of you. If you lose your power, they'll take the opportunity to do just that."

Gramps simply chuckled and ruffled my hair, ruining the neat style I had carefully arranged that morning.

"Tavon said the same thing, but it seems we have no other choice now," Gramps muttered, letting out a deep sigh. His face was lined with unmistakable worry. "We've already lost several territories, and even our finest knights have fallen—despite your uncles and cousins stepping in."

I lowered my gaze, feeling uneasy about the worsening situation.

Normally, members of the imperial family would take part in battle alongside the knights, fighting on the front lines to overcome crises like this. It had been a long-standing tradition that had helped the empire withstand countless hardships for centuries. If only I could join the battlefield and fulfill my duty like the rest of the imperial bloodline, maybe things wouldn't be this dire.

"Hey, kid, don't make that face at me!" Gramps scolded, ruffling my hair once again.

I knew it wasn't my fault, yet that didn't change how everyone else would see it. As the crown prince, I should be out there, fighting. Instead, I could only stand behind the unshakable walls Gramps had built to shield me.

I forced a smile. "I understand," I said before shifting my gaze to the nobles, who were still bickering with the Hierophant.

"Can you deal with them first? This place feels more like a battlefield than a council chamber."

Gramps gave a small, amused smile before turning to a towering man who stood ever-vigilant at his side. His massive frame radiated strength and resilience, his scarred face a testament to the countless battles he had fought.

Tavon, Gramps' most trusted knight. There was no way I wouldn't recognize him. After all, he was the one responsible for making my life a living hell every single day with his brutal training. His intentions might be good, trying to make me stronger, but that didn't change the fact that he had nearly sent me to my grave more times than I cared to count.

To make matters worse, he would be my future father-in-law, given that he had adopted Zura.

"SHOW SOME RESPECT IN FRONT OF THE EMPEROR!"

Tavon's thunderous voice echoed through the hall, instantly silencing the room. I wasn't the only one with bad memories of that man—several others visibly tensed, breaking into a cold sweat at his outburst.

"Representatives of Midgaria," Gramps spoke as he rose from his throne. "The empire is facing an unprecedented crisis. As Midgaria's shield, we must stand as its unwavering protectors."

"The summoning ritual will proceed!" he declared firmly.

Some of the Hierophants clearly disapproved, whispering among themselves with anxious expressions. Meanwhile, several nobles who had been at odds with them earlier sighed relief.

A Hierophant, dressed similarly to Uncle Arcanis, stood from his seat, adjusting his glasses. "Your Majesty! What about the Mana supply?" he asked, breathless. "The reserves haven't recovered since the last ritual two months ago. We cannot perform the summoning without sufficient Mana!"

Uncle Arca rose, adjusting his glasses.

"The imperial family will take responsibility for replenishing the supply for the ritual," he stated.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

Uncle Arca stood tall, his gaze sweeping across the gathered nobles, Hierophants, and military officials. The light from the stained glass window behind him cast a silhouette, making him look almost statuesque. In his grasp was an ancient document that had been forgotten for centuries.

"This document," he said, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable authority, "reveals one of the Grand Temple's greatest secrets. Five hundred years ago, during one of the darkest times, the summoning of an Astral Traveler was not solely reliant on the Mana Stone's energy. In those years, the entire imperial family was required to contribute their strength to replenish the Mana Stone. Only through this method could the ritual be safely conducted."

The chamber fell silent. Some faces displayed shock, others fear.

Uncle Arca continued.

"However, this sacrifice does not come without risks," he said, flipping through the aged parchment. "Releasing a large amount of Mana from one's core can lead to what is known as the Paralysis Effect. This is not merely a temporary loss of power—it is well-documented by our healers that this condition can result in permanent loss of magic, even severe physical deterioration. In the past, when this ritual was performed, some members of the imperial family never recovered… and some perished."

A murmur spread through the hall.

A tense-faced Hierophant spoke up. "Is there no alternative? If the entire imperial family is involved, what happens if something even worse occurs?"

Uncle Arca nodded slowly. "There is an alternative, though it is not perfect. The document also describes a method that could mitigate the risks. Instead of recklessly expending all our Mana at once, we—members of the imperial family—can channel our energy through synchronization. This allows the Mana Stone to absorb the required energy gradually, ensuring we retain a portion of our reserves."

"And how would that be done?" a noble asked, skepticism lacing his tone.

"Through what is known as the Pact of Binding," Uncle Arca explained. "A magical process that enables us to regulate the amount of Mana each individual releases. While demanding, this method allows participants to preserve a portion of their core energy. However, this process can only be performed by the imperial family and the Mana Stone itself."

A noble sitting farther away raised his gaze, his expression grim. "If we do this… will it be enough to recharge the Mana Stone without any casualties?"

Uncle Arca turned to the nobleman. "The risk remains. However, I believe this is the only way to save Midgaria. The Mana Stone must be replenished; only the imperial family possesses enough energy. We are the core of the empire's power, and this responsibility cannot be avoided."

Silence blanketed the room. Everyone seemed to be deep in thought.

"I refuse!" A stout old man with a curled mustache raised his hand and stood up, struggling slightly due to his round belly. "This endangers the imperial family!"

"Viscount Dregg, do you have something to say?" Uncle Arca gestured for him to speak.

"Does the imperial family truly have to bear such a risk?!" The man's face was red with frustration, his mustache twitching as his body moved. "Placing the entire imperial bloodline in such grave danger is no different from the human sacrifices you have always condemned!"

The room fell into silence again, but the tension was heavier this time. Some nobles exchanged glances while I found myself staring at Viscount Dregg. For some reason, there was something oddly familiar about him, though I couldn't quite place it.

"Viscount Dregg," Uncle Arca said, attempting to ease the tension, "this responsibility cannot be ignored. If we do nothing, Midgaria will fall."

Sitting beside Gramps, I lowered my head. That nagging feeling of familiarity has bothered me ever since Viscount Dregg spoke. I stole a glance at Gramps, his weary face still radiating authority. Carefully, I whispered so only he could hear.

"Gramps," I asked in a low voice, "who is that Viscount, really?"

Gramps turned his head slowly, his eyes studying my face before finally responding in an almost inaudible tone. "Cedric Dregg… He isn't originally from Midgaria. He was an Astral Traveler, arriving here with his wife and child thirteen years ago. After resolving the famine crisis in the eastern territories, I granted him the title of Viscount… and he married my daughter."

Two things nearly made my eyes pop out of their sockets. First, the fact that this duke was an Astral Traveler. And second, the shocking confession from this old man that he had married the duke's daughter.

I gaped at my grandfather, my mouth hanging open. "Wait a second…" I said in a hushed voice. "What did you just say? He married his daughter?"

Gramps gave a slight nod as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Yes. His daughter was beautiful, intelligent, and—"

"But, Gramps!" I whispered sharply, glancing at Viscount Dregg, still passionately arguing in the middle of the room. "Doesn't that mean… that Viscount is… your father-in-law?"

Gramps raised an eyebrow, seeming to consider it. "Ah. Technically, yes. I suppose I forgot to mention that before."

"Forgot?" I nearly jumped from my seat but forced myself to stay still. "Gramps, that's not something you just forget! Look at your father-in-law now—he's using every ounce of his strength to oppose our only solution!"

Gramps let out a quiet chuckle, his smile almost sly. "Well, I suppose that's because his wife passed away a few years ago, his only daughter had to enter the palace as a consort, and now his only grandchild is being asked to risk his life as a sacrifice for the Mana Stone."

I stared at Gramps, anger and disbelief swirling inside me. "So, all of Viscount Dregg's rage—his outburst in this meeting—is because you've exploited his family without remorse?"

Gramps tilted his head as if weighing my words. "That's one way to look at it," he said, his tone almost too light. "But I prefer to call it… strategy. The empire granted everything he has now—including his title. He must give something in return."

I nearly exploded at his words. "Repayment?" I hissed. "That's a person's life, Gramps! You can't treat people like chess pieces!"

Gramps met my gaze, his expression turning more serious this time. "Elenio, this world doesn't care about ideals. Only actions that produce results are respected. This empire would have collapsed long ago if I hadn't made difficult decisions. Do you understand?"

I wanted to argue, but before I could say anything, the deep creak of the grand doors interrupted our conversation. We both turned in unison, just in time to see Viscount Dregg continuing his heated argument, his face twisted in anger—yet somehow, his eyes carried a desperate look.

I let out a long sigh, trying to calm myself, but another thought only fueled my frustration further. "And tell me, are you really so short on consorts that every woman you meet has to be added to your harem?"

Gramps chuckled, louder this time, his voice low yet teasing. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'Every woman has her secrets'?"

I frowned. "What does that have to do with your harem, Gramps?"

His smile widened, sending a shiver down my spine. "The more mysterious a woman's secrets, the more intriguing they are to uncover. Collecting those hidden mysteries is my hobby—" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "—and unraveling them, piece by piece. You could say it's an art within an art, Elenio."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "So, your harem is more like… a secret gallery?"

Gramps let out a soft laugh, clearly pleased with my conclusion. "You could call it that. Every woman there has a secret, and I—as both emperor and a lover of mysteries—keep and protect them."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Gramps, you're making your harem sound like a secret library, and you're the librarian."

He nodded proudly. "A beautiful analogy, isn't it? You truly are my intelligent grandson."

I looked at him, torn between laughing or crying. "Gramps, I'm not even sure I want to live long enough to start understanding how your mind works."

"You'll understand one day," he said, patting my shoulder. "For now, just focus on your duties. Oh, and don't forget, Viscount Dregg is a good man. He's just too emotional after losing his wife. He'll surely forgive you if you smile and look innocent."

I looked at my grandfather with deep skepticism. "The last time I followed your advice, I ended up kidnapped by a noble family that opposed you, Gramps."

Gramps let out a small chuckle, his voice light but filled with mischief. "Ah, that was indeed an unfortunate incident. But look on the bright side, Elenio. You learned how to escape from a dungeon without anyone's help. That's a skill not every prince has."

I stared at him blankly, trying to suppress the anger inside me. "Gramps, I barely ate for three days. And I was nearly eaten by their pet wolf!"

"Oh, right," he said with a nod. "That wolf was part of their tactics to scare you. I heard you managed to calm it down with a piece of stale bread. That was quite a clever move."

"Focus on the issue at hand, Gramps," I huffed. "You always manage to steer the conversation away."

The emperor simply laughed, amused by my frustration. His laughter only ceased when a booming voice suddenly interrupted.

"I will not allow my grandson to risk his life!"

Viscount Dregg's sharp gaze bore into the emperor as if he could drill a hole through his head with sheer intensity.

The declaration made the emperor and I turn toward him, cutting our previous conversation short. But before the tension could settle—

BANG!

The sound of a table being slammed stole everyone's attention.

"Tch." Finnian, his face twisted with frustration, looked ready to explode. "Great. Another old man doting on his grandson."

Finnian didn't bother standing up with any pretense of respect. Instead, he casually propped his foot up on the table. I was willing to bet that the loud bang from earlier came from his boot slamming against it.

A familiar girl sitting beside him gave a slight tug on the edge of his sleeve, silently urging him to rein in his arrogance. That girl was Zura. No surprise there—Zura was the vice-captain of the same battalion as Finnian, as indicated by the bright green cloaks they both wore, the same shade as Finnian's eyes.

"Listen, old man!" Finnian sneered. "Your grandson is part of the imperial family. He enjoys the privileges and luxuries of being a member of the royal household. That means he should at least fulfill one of his responsibilities as a royal."

His gaze then shifted to me, sharp and unrelenting.

"At the very least, your grandson has something he can do to contribute to this crisis."

I knew that line was meant as a jab—a direct insult to me, the one imperial family member with nothing to offer. Even when it came to Mana reserves, I was nothing more than the emperor's ornamental figure, standing idly by while my cousins risked their lives to provide the energy needed.

"Yeah! That's right! What about the Crown Prince?!"

Viscount Dregg's fiery eyes locked onto me, his rage now directed my way. "What will the Crown Prince do to contribute to this crisis?!"

I kept my mouth shut. I knew that anything I said would only fuel their anger further. A part of me wanted to drill a hole through this old man's head—what was it that Gramps said earlier about looking on the bright side?

Viscount Dregg glared at me, his eyes burning like twin embers. Under his piercing stare, it felt like even the palace walls could melt away. The nobles gathered in the room all turned their attention to me, their expressions filled with the same expectation, as if waiting to witness a miracle.

Meanwhile, Gramps just sat there, his face blank with indifference, as if he had long grown tired of this never-ending drama.

I took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. How could I deny the truth—that I had no real power? I was nothing more than a shadow of the royal family, a crippled crown prince without any meaningful abilities.

"I-I... I will do my best to support all of you," I finally said, though my voice sounded weaker than I had hoped. "I will find a way to help overcome this crisis."

Viscount Dregg scoffed in pure disdain. "Empty words!" he barked. "We need action, not empty promises!"

"I-I u-understand," I stammered, trying to stay calm despite the storm raging inside my chest. "I will find a way to contribute. I swear it."

The tension in the room grew heavier. I could feel the weight of every gaze—expectation, disappointment, frustration. Yet, beneath it all, I knew this was the moment where things had to change. I had to find a way to prove myself—to show that I was worthy of being the Crown Prince and not just some hollow symbol. At the very least, I couldn't let the people doubt Gramps' decision.

"Of all our victories, many of the strategies behind them were devised by the Crown Prince," Tavon finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the air. "The Crown Prince also played a key role in addressing the food crisis that struck several regions over the past two years."

"A Crown Prince must take to the battlefield alongside the Emperor to defend this empire!" another noble interjected. "Not to play the role of some war scholar or farmer!"

The atmosphere grew even more heated. Tavon—my grandfather's loyal captain and battalion commander—had stepped in to defend me. Still, his words only provoked an even fiercer response from the nobles. I could see some of them nodding in agreement, convinced that my place was on the battlefield, not behind a desk filled with maps and books.

"Have you all forgotten who saved your cities from destruction?" Tavon continued, his voice firm and unwavering. "The Crown Prince has made great contributions to the defense of this empire, even if it wasn't always with a sword in hand."

But Viscount Dregg and the others refused to listen. "This empire does not need a Crown Prince who only knows how to think. We need a leader who can stand at the front lines, setting an example for our soldiers!" another noble shouted angrily.

I felt a surge of anger and frustration well up inside me. They had no idea how heavy the weight of the empire was on my shoulders, how difficult it was to carry both its burdens and their scorn. I never asked to be born like this. I, too, wanted to step onto the battlefield and fight bravely, just like my siblings and predecessors.

"Enough!" Gramps' voice finally rang through the room, cutting through the growing uproar. Silence fell instantly as everyone turned to look at him. He stood tall, his presence commanding and undeniable. "The Crown Prince has proven himself in many ways. Everyone plays a different role in protecting this empire. Not all battles are fought on the battlefield. Without a sound strategy, without solutions to our internal problems, we would not survive."

"That still does not compare to his siblings, who are risking their lives on the battlefield!" Viscount Dregg burst out again.

The tension in the council chamber grew suffocating. Gramps pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly growing weary of the endless arguments. My mind raced, searching for a way to mediate this dispute—perhaps even prove myself. But before I could open my mouth to speak, Uncle Arcanis broke the silence.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "I will not allow my grandson to be sacrificed for this ritual. If that is what it takes, then find another candidate. Let my grandson, who is still so young, have the same rights as the Crown Prince. I have lost enough—my wife, my life in the world I once knew—and now you want to take my grandson as well?"

Gramps rose to his feet, his posture growing firmer. "Viscount, this is not a decision I made lightly. Your grandson is one of the few candidates who carries my blood and possesses enough Mana to ignite the Mana Stone and complete the ritual."

Viscount Dregg's eyes glinted with fury as he glared at Gramps. "If you wish to save the empire, use the grandson you glorify as Crown Prince—don't take mine!" He pointed at me with a sharp, accusing finger, making my heart pound. "Him! He should also be sacrificed in this insane plan, yet he gets special treatment just because he's weak. Why isn't he the one being offered up?"

I stiffened, my body frozen in place. Every gaze in the room was now fixed on me—including Gramps', whose expression had turned cold as ice.

"Viscount," Gramps spoke slowly, his voice like the edge of a blade. "Watch your tongue. Elenio is the heir to the throne, not a bargaining chip."

"But he's also a boy without magic!" the Viscount snapped bitterly. "What use is an heir who lacks the very power even commoners possess?"

The words cut deeper than I had expected. I wanted to respond, but no sound came out of my mouth. I could only stand there, feeling small under the crushing weight of the conversation.

Gramps took a step forward, his voice sharper. "I decide who advances and who is protected, Viscount. If you refuse to accept this, you know the consequences."

Viscount Dregg looked like he was about to explode, his fists clenching tightly in suppressed rage. But before he could lash out, a voice interrupted, dousing the fire of his emotions.

"If you're insistent on having the Crown Prince contribute on the field…" A man with long, disheveled hair removed his fogged-up glasses, wiping away the sweat. "Then I propose he joins the expedition team to hunt the next Astral Traveler."

Uncle Arcanis' words plunged the room into silence. Gramps' eyes widened in anger, his teeth grinding, though the old man seemed to restrain himself from unleashing his fury.

A few nobles began whispering among themselves.

"Are you insane?!" a thunderous voice shattered the silence—Finnian. "The assault expedition is dangerous! The team was already decided days ago! We all agreed that the overgrown baby wouldn't be joining!"

A tremor ran through my body at Finnian's sharp words. The tense silence dissolved into a flurry of murmurs, disbelief, and protests. The nobles exchanged glances—some appeared uneasy, while others were visibly enraged.

Uncle Arcanis stood firm, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with Finnian. "The Crown Prince is not a baby," he said, calm yet resolute. "He is the heir to the throne, and it's time he learns to face the risks of the battlefield."

"You're overestimating him!" Finnian snapped, his tone heated. "We can't afford to risk throwing him into such a dangerous mission. This isn't some game!"

Gramps' face darkened, though it was unclear whether he was furious at Uncle Arcanis' suggestion or at Finnian's insult calling me an overgrown baby.

For the first time, I felt a spark of courage as I saw Gramps's anger nearly boil over. I couldn't just stand there and let him erupt in my defense, lowering his dignity for my sake.

All this time, they had seen me as a symbol, not someone who could make a real contribution. But no matter how scared I was, I knew this was my moment to prove myself.

"Enough!" My voice rang louder than I expected. Every gaze snapped toward me. "I may have never been on a battlefield, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of learning. If we're facing a severe crisis, I must participate in this fight. Not as a child who needs to be coddled, but as a Crown Prince ready to protect his people."

Gramps let out a heavy sigh, his eyes filled with worry and deep affection as he looked at me.

"Elenio," Gramps said, his voice gentle yet firm with authority, "you don't have to prove anything to anyone. The responsibility of an heir is not just about bravery on the battlefield, but also the wisdom to know when to step back."

There was a flicker of doubt in the old man's eyes.

I stood nervously in the middle of the room, realizing this was a rare opportunity to prove my resolve. Taking a deep breath before speaking, my voice sounded steadier than I had expected.

"Gramps," I met his gaze with determination. "I understand your concerns, and I know I lack experience. But I believe this is the right time to learn and prove myself. I want to understand what our people are facing and show that I'm ready to take on this responsibility."

Gramps looked at me with a mix of affection and hesitation. "Elenio, the battlefield is not a place to learn from mistakes. The risks are too great, and we can't gamble your courage on something you're unprepared to face."

I nodded, showing that I understood his concerns. "I'm not asking to be on the front lines, Gramps. But I want to be part of this expedition—to learn from the knights and see firsthand what we're up against. I want to prove that I'm more than just a symbol; I can be the leader everyone expects me to be."

Uncle Arcanis added calmly, "Elenio has shown courage and a willingness to learn. We can assign him a role where he can observe and understand without being directly involved in combat."

A shiver ran down my spine as my gaze met Finnian's. His eyes burned with unspoken fury as if he wanted to pierce a hole through my skull with just his glare.

Finnian looked at me with unmistakable disapproval on his face. "Elenio, this isn't about proving yourself. Your presence on the expedition will only be a burden to the team. We must focus on the mission, not babysit an heir who isn't ready to face this risk."

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his sharp gaze. "I understand your concerns, Finnian," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart. "But I truly believe I can learn and grow from this experience. I want to fully grasp our people's challenges and prove that I am more than just a symbol."

Uncle Arcanis listened intently, his expression is still contemplative. "Gramps, Finnian, I understand your concerns, and of course, Elenio's safety—as well as the success of this mission—remains the top priority. However, perhaps there's a way to let him try."

I nodded, showing that I valued their advice.

"I understand, and I promise I won't be a burden. I will learn from this experience and follow the guidance of the knights already chosen for the mission."

Finnian's expression remained displeased, but he chose to stay silent, likely knowing he wouldn't win the argument once Uncle Arcanis had set his mind on something.

Gramps, too, let out a heavy sigh.

"Very well, if this is what you truly want," he said, meeting my gaze with firm resolve. "But on one condition—Elenio will be placed in a safe position. I want my grandson to return alive."

I nodded gratefully, feeling fear and determination swell within me. This was my chance to change how they saw me. With a newfound conviction growing inside me, I was determined to prove that I was not just a symbol—but a true leader.

There was an undeniable reluctance in Gramps' sigh. Still, this seemed the only way to prevent a civil conflict amid an already looming crisis.

If Gramps kept insisting on protecting me, the faction opposing him might try to exploit some nobles' doubts about his leadership. And if that happened, civil war would be inevitable.

For now, following the nobles' wishes as much as possible was the safest action.

Finnian stared at me sharply, searching for any hesitation in my decision. I knew he had already warned me about the dangers of the Assault Expedition involving the Astral Traveler. Still, at this moment, I couldn't back down under his threats. I had to move forward, no matter the risks ahead.

"Very well," Finnian finally said, his voice cold. "We'll see if your words are just empty talk or if you're truly ready to face the reality of war."

The other nobles looked surprised by this decision but understood there was no other way. The empire's crisis demanded real action, and I had to prove myself on the battlefield. They murmured among themselves, their expressions varying—some filled with hope, others with doubt, and a few with concern.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight on my shoulders grow heavier.

Gramps stepped closer, resting a firm yet gentle hand on my shoulder. "This is the first time I'm letting you go. I believe in you, my grandson. Don't let them underestimate you."

I knew it—sometimes, this cunning old man was overly protective of me. I had no idea why Gramps was so reluctant to see me get hurt or why he fought so hard to ensure the best for me. Even his other children and grandchildren, who had contributed far more to the empire, never received this treatment.

This was also the first time Gramps approved a proposal to send me to the battlefield. His face still radiated worry, but the old man tried to hide it behind a reassuring smile.

"I won't disappoint you, Gramps," I said, even though doubt lingered in my heart.

As the tension in the room settled slightly, I turned to Tavon, who remained by my side.

"We need to prepare," I told him. "This expedition isn't just about proving myself—it's about saving the empire."

Tavon nodded. "I will assist you, Crown Prince. Even if I won't join the expedition directly, I will make the necessary arrangements to ensure your journey is as safe as possible."

I simply nodded. With the decision made, the meeting resumed—much calmer than before. Some unexpected resolutions were reached, easing the tense expressions of several nobles. However, Gramps' face grew more rigid, as if he still wasn't ready to let me go.

My heart pounded as I recalled the weight of my decision—to face the greatest life challenge. The Assault Expedition involving the Astral Traveler was a mission filled with risk and uncertainty. But I had no other choice. I had to prove that I was capable of carrying this responsibility.

I stepped out of the chamber with renewed determination as the meeting adjourned, leaving behind the shadows of doubt and fear. I knew this journey would be dangerous, but I also knew this was my moment to prove who I was.

As the Crown Prince.

As the future leader.

And as the protector of my people.

My life had only begun, and I would ensure I was not just a symbol—but a true ruler.