Claim to the… Throne?

A loud, full-blown laugh almost escaped Kai’s lips at the blasphemous words. Almost. Instead, he stared—his eyes widened as they locked onto Amara’s, searching for the faintest sign of jest. But her expression remained stoic, hard, and unyieldingly serious.

He waited, giving her a few moments to retract the absurd statement, but she simply held his gaze, awaiting his response.

That’s not a joke then?

“What do you mean?” Kai’s voice was calm, and measured—betraying none of the turmoil her claim had sparked within him. He tilted his head slightly. “I’m no prince,” he added, as though the truth of it should end the conversation.

A subtle smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Was it amusement at his reaction, or something else?

“Yes, you are not,” she replied smoothly. “But neither was Vacerous.”

Kai frowned at the name.

“Have you heard of him?” she asked, her voice steady.

Vacerous. The name stirred something. He had read it before. But where?

Kai’s mind raced, sifting through countless records he’d pored over since taking on the mantle of Arzan. The dusty tomes and scrolls of the library’s archives had been filled with endless, mundane details of history. And then, like a blade piercing through fog, it clicked.

“Your ancestor,” he said finally.

Amara nodded, the faint smile lingering on her lips.

“The founder of the Lancephil Kingdom. My great-great-grandfather. A fourth circle Mage. There’s a story of his ascension to the throne, one lost to time,” she said, her tone softening. “It’s not told to commoners anymore—not even to most nobles. Too many years have passed, and the truth faded into obscurity. But the royal family never forgot. They remember the purest version of what happened when Vacerous founded the kingdom.”

She paused, her gaze steady, as though gauging Kai’s reaction.

“Continue,” Kai urged.

Amara’s lips parted, her voice taking on a storyteller’s cadence.

“Well, he wasn’t a king or a prince. He was a duke of the Raksails Kingdom and the general of its army. A close friend of its last king—Eze. It was an era of blood—beast waves raging across the lands, countless battles, and kingdoms fighting for survival. Vacerous and King Eze were no different, waging war against the beasts together. All together, they killed hundreds of them.”

Her voice softened, tinged with sorrow.

“But during one of those battles, King Eze fell. A young king, barely half a decade into his rule. From all accounts, he was an idealist—a man of good intentions. His death left a power vacuum, and the two princes he left behind were… less than capable. Shrewd, greedy, and wholly unfit to rule.”

Kai leaned forward slightly, drawn into the story. “What happened next?” he asked.

Amara’s eyes gleamed, and the corners of her lips curved upward as though savouring the story.

“Vacerous devised a plan—a bold, audacious plan to take over the throne. This wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment decision; it was meticulous, calculated. He had the backing of several key nobles, but the true turning point came during his battles against the beasts.”

She paused for effect before continuing.

“After slaying a Grade 6 beast—one of the most dangerous of its time—Vacerous was gifted a medallion by King Eze. This wasn’t just a token. It came with a promise: one wish, any wish, and the king would grant it.”

Kai’s brow furrowed. “He used it?”

Amara nodded. “He used it. The medallion wasn’t meant to be used for something like this, and Vacerous knew it. But desperate times call for desperate measures. He invoked the medallion to challenge the succession, staking his claim to the throne. As you can imagine, Count Arzan, it didn’t go unchallenged.”

Her expression hardened, her voice dropping a note.

“The two princes, enraged by his audacity, rallied their forces. The moment the beast waves subsided, a civil war erupted.

“Vacerous won it. He founded the Lancephil Kingdom and named it after his surname.” She paused briefly, shrugging as if to downplay the gravity of her words. “Of course, there are other records. Some claim he challenged two tyrannical princes when he saw their cruelty. Others say the king himself granted him the throne. But the truth? Vacerous exploited a loophole, and it worked out exceptionally well. Even if he cared for the people, he too wanted the throne and wouldn’t have agreed to the nobles supporting him otherwise.”

Kai nodded slowly, absorbing the tale.

Vacerous had seen an opportunity and seized it with both hands. The man didn’t sound ordinary—especially with the sheer number of beasts he’d fought—but… what does that have to do with me?

Kai voiced his thoughts aloud, “The story. What connection do I have with it?”

Amara’s eyes locked onto his, her gaze intense. “Everything.”

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned, gripping the edges of the stone ledge. The shift in her demeanour made Kai’s chest tighten.

There was more—there always was.

“Your mother,” Amara began softly, “died with a fractured Mana heart after giving birth to you. That injury wasn’t random as you should know—it happened during her final battle with an Grade 8 behemoth.” She glanced over her shoulder, her voice hardening. “That’s no small feat. Her strength and bravery earned her admiration, even from King Sullivan. He recognized her achievements and, as a reward, granted her the same medallion Vacerous once held with the wish attached.”

Kai’s breath caught as her words settled into place. “A wish…” he murmured. “Passed down through her kin.”

Amara nodded. “Exactly.”

Her gaze turned distant, as if sifting through old memories. “From what I know, my mother and yours didn’t get along. My mother once proposed a partnership—no, service—and your mother outright rejected it. That rejection sparked a grudge, one my mother never let go of.” She paused, her voice growing colder. “And now that you’re of age, with the competition for the throne underway, she sees you as a threat. A variable that could upset her plans for my brother.”

Kai stared at her, his mind storming at her words.

His mother. The medallion. The grudge.

He struggled to piece the implications together. All this time, Arzan had a claim to the throne?

His frown deepened, his thoughts tangling as new questions arose.

But something didn’t add up.

Why?

Why would King Sullivan knowingly grant such power to Valkyrie, knowing full well her descendants might challenge his lineage? A medallion with that level of significance wasn’t gifted without foresight.

Could there be another reason? Kai didn’t know that, but as he thought more about the medallion, something struck him.

“I don’t have the medallion right now.”

Amara’s gaze snapped back to him, her face painted with a question mark that spoke volumes.

“You don’t?”

Kai shook his head. “I don’t. I don’t recall any medallion among my belongings, and until now, I was unaware of its significance.”

Her brows knitted together, the wheels of thought visibly turning. “I wonder why the previous Duke Kellius hid it from you—or for you.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with speculation. Though her eyes were on him, they seemed distant, lost in thought. “Maybe he didn’t want you to get involved, didn’t want you to realize what you could be—especially since you suffered from Mana vein blockage as you said.”

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Kai mulled over her words and gave a slow nod. “Maybe.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, thoughtful and thick with unspoken questions. Different threads of possibility tugged at Kai’s mind, but none seemed solid enough to grasp.

Letting out a quiet breath through his nose, he nodded again, accepting it all.

“Thank you for explaining this. It answered a lot of questions I didn’t even know I had.”

Amara shifted awkwardly, her fingers tracing lazy circles on her forearm. “I should be sorry. I am sorry, Count Arzan.”

“Why?” Kai asked, his brow lifting.

“Because of my mother… and my brother. You’ve had to go through so much because of them.” Her voice wavered slightly, as though wrestling with the weight of her words. “I can’t even form the right apology. Somehow, it all feels so… insufficient.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Princess Amara. None of this is your fault.” Kai’s tone was firm and kind. He didn’t want her to apologise, not at all. He understood that she wasn’t the same person as her mother and even feared her like a calamity. Her expression didn’t change—still marred with guilt. He continued, “You’re different from them, and far removed from their schemes.”

Amara nodded slowly, her gaze drifting toward the sprawling castle grounds below. The chaos of the moment seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a stillness Kai hadn’t noticed until now.

Even in the silence, her presence was oddly peaceful.

“Count Arzan,” she broke the silence, her voice softer. “If you find the medallion… what will you do?”

“What will I do?” he echoed.

“Will you fight for the throne? I’m not saying you should—”

“I don’t know,” Kai interrupted, his voice steady. “I need time to process everything. To come to terms with the fact that I’ve inherited something like this.” He paused, exhaling slowly. “But if I do decide to fight for the throne, it won’t be a decision I make alone. I’m far beyond standing alone now… after all.”

***

The dark blue canvas of the sky stretched infinitely, little pearly dots winking at her with a rhythm as erratic as her thoughts. The moon hung low, casting a pale glow that softened the edges of the world, but the peace of the night only seemed to amplify the chaos in her mind.

Questions that had bothered her for a long time swirled inside her mind once again.

Raven sighed, her fingers idly brushing against the string of her bow, the polished surface cool under her touch. Behind her, the steady scrap of metal on stone broke the silence.

“What are you looking at?” Gorak’s gruff voice carried over the rhythmic sound of one of his spare swords sliding over the whetstone.

“The moon… and the stars,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

She meant it. The night had always brought her a sense of stillness, but stillness often made room for the thoughts she tried to bury.

“Ah,” Gorak muttered, setting the sword aside with a metallic clang. He shifted his weight and glanced at her. “Any thoughts worth sharing?”

Raven nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving the sky. “I was just… thinking about everything that’s happened since we got here. It’s been a ride.” She paused, the weight of unspoken things hanging in the cool air. “Even the whole idea of forming a guild. Adventurers… it’s a strong name, I like it better than mercenaries, but I don’t know.”

She trailed off, the words spilling out with the hope that saying them aloud might lighten their burden.

“You don’t know what?” Gorak prompted, leaning forward slightly, his calloused hands resting on his knees.

“I don’t know if this is my purpose,” she admitted, the words tasting bitter yet relieving at once. Her fingers tightened around the bow. “The bow, the arrows, the journey—it all feels like it’s leading somewhere, but where?” She let out a bitter laugh. “You know why I left my tribe, right? I wanted to explore the world, to be more than just one of many, to find something that made me special. Leaving felt like the first step. I thought maybe out here, I’d find what I was meant to do. My purpose.”

Her voice faltered, and the faint whistle of the wind filled the pause. “I’ve grown stronger. I’ve achieved things. But I still don’t feel it, that sense of… accomplishment. Like I’m enough.”

Gorak’s silence felt like an invitation to keep going, but the trance was broken by his sudden burst of laughter.

“Purpose, huh?” He shook his head, grinning as he leaned back. “I don’t know about all that, but I know Lord Arzan pays well. Good coin, good food, and some responsibility—gives me enough reason to wake up every day. It works for me.”

Raven didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch again as she turned her gaze back to the moon. The quiet didn’t feel peaceful this time. It felt… hollow.

This wasn’t enough. She didn’t have the words to explain why, but her heart felt it—a restless yearning, an itch beneath her skin. Something more was out there, waiting for her.

She didn’t know what, or when it would happen.

But she did know one thing. That gnawing question—What’s next or was this it?—wasn’t a sign of failure. It was a sign that she was made for more.

A soft, green luminescent light swirled around Raven, the wisp flickering in the quiet night, always understanding her in ways that nothing else seemed to. Her spirit was sometimes the only thing that felt real, the only companion in a world full of uncertainty.

Thank you for trying to lift my mood… she thought, her fingers grazing the edge of her bow absentmindedly. But before she could even finish the thought, something caught her eye—something that made her forget the comforting glow of the wisp.

The stars.

A blink. A falling. One after another, the distant lights of the heavens streaked across the sky, casting long, brilliant lines of white against the inky blackness. Raven’s breath hitched in her chest, a sharp gasp escaping her as her hand instinctively moved to clutch her heart.

They were falling towards her.

The shock rooted her to the earth. Her entire body froze, caught in the brilliant cascade of light. The stars, once so distant and untouchable, were now descending like burning jewels, brighter than anything she had ever seen.

Her body locked, her mind racing but unable to move, and deep down, a part of her knew—the outcome of whatever was happening was already sealed. There was no way to stop it.

Millions of lights flooded around her, a torrent of white that enveloped her in a soft, otherworldly glow. Slowly, painfully slowly, the lights began to shape into something more.

First, the head. A crown-like glow formed, a smooth curve of light. Then, the body. It solidified, its outline sharp against the darkness. A hunched person. The features started to take shape, familiar but distant as if they belonged to another life—silver eyes. She knew who that was immediately.

“Elder V’aleirith…” Raven’s whisper barely escaped her lips, her eyes wide with disbelief, reflecting what was in front of her.

The figure of her tribe’s leader stood there, as real as the stars themselves.

Her mind struggled to comprehend. If she didn’t know better, she’d have let her mouth hang open, her jaw slack with the shock of it all. But she knew.

“Raven… My child, your purpose for the survival of the world has been decided.”

The words hit her in her chest. Her breath caught again, lower this time, as the figure’s voice echoed in her mind, carrying an unspoken urgency that rattled her core.

“Lead the Fatebreaker to us… If not, everything will fall into ruins. He’s close to you, the man you work for.”

The stars, once gathered in the shape of the elder, began to dissipate, their glow fading as the winds swept them upward, returning them to the heavens. The vision was gone, but its presence remained, heavy and imprinted in her chest.

She understood. This was no mere vision—it was a message.

Her limbs, once locked in place due to the shock, gave way. She stumbled back, her heart racing, her mind struggling to make sense of the words that had just shattered the peace of the night.

Gorak’s rough hands caught her before she could fall, his voice full of concern as he steadied her. “Are you okay?”

Raven blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of shock from her mind. She slowly shook her head, still grasping at the remnants of the vision.

“My purpose…” she breathed out, “I just found it.”

***

A/N – You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep