Bodies smell quite foul when they decay. The snake head strapped to Lloyd’s pack rotted alarmingly fast, forcing him to discard it and hunt another Corrupted. The density of Corrupted increased near The Citadel, making the hunt for a replacement almost effortless. A day prior, the group ran into a large pack of six Corrupted boar. Each member of the party now sported a tusked head as they approached the main gates of The Citadel.

  The Citadel rose like a titan from the earth, its sprawling walls stretching endlessly to the left and right, disappearing where the ocean met the cliffs on either side. The walls stood impossibly high, their surfaces smooth and unyielding, as if carved from a single, colossal slab of granite. In front of the group, the main gate loomed. The towering iron doors were opened outward standing at least 40 feet high, inlaid by intricate carvings that depicted battles between humans and Corrupted. The walls that enclosed the gate soared even higher, doubling its height, maybe even matching the soaring heights of the tree that Lloyd lived in back in Breakwater.

  The open expanse before the gate teemed with life. Farmers led oxen-drawn carts laden with produce, their earthy clothes contrasting sharply with the vibrant silks and fine garments of merchants and nobles. Peddlers hawked wares from makeshift stalls just inside the gates, their cries mingling with the hum of chatter and the rhythmic clop of hooves on stone. The smell of saltwater from the distant cliffs blended with the aroma of baked goods and fresh hay, carried on the crisp sea breeze.

  As the group drew closer, they were struck by the sheer vibrancy of the city spilling beyond its walls. The paths inside, glimpsed through the massive open gate, shimmered with polished black marble that reflected the sunlight like rippling water. The streets stretched endlessly inward, lined with towering wood and stone buildings, some with grand balconies draped in cascading greenery and luxurious furniture. The scale of The Citadel made Mandor seem like a single family home.

  Lloyd felt his breath catch in his chest. His neck craned painfully upward, trying to take in every detail of the gate and its surrounding walls. He wasn’t the only one; the entire group seemed spellbound. The enormity of the sight before them was almost overwhelming, and yet, as immense as the structure was, it was the life within that truly awed him. People moved in and out of the gates freely, their lives weaving together like a vibrant tapestry of motion and sound.

  The group approached a pair of guards standing at attention near the gate, their chainmail glinting in the sunlight. Around them, travelers of all sorts passed through the gates: farmers in coarse tunics, merchants in finely embroidered robes, and even a few nobles whose eccentric, jewel-studded clothing seemed designed to announce their wealth.

  Lloyd couldn’t stop himself from peeking through the open gates, his heart thundering at the brief glimpse of The Citadel’s bustling interior.

  Inside, it was as if another world unfolded. The shimmering marble streets wove through buildings that stood impossibly tall, their facades adorned with ornate carvings and colorful banners that fluttered in the ocean breeze. The pathways seemed to stretch forever, disappearing into a distant haze of light and motion.

  Excitement swelled in Lloyd’s chest, pushing aside the months of doubt, fear, and pain that had marked his journey since leaving Breakwater. He had made it. He and his brother had reached The Citadel—the kingdom that he had only dared to dream about. And he wasn’t just here to see it. No, he had come with purpose. He wasn’t just going to work in this city; he was going to join the King’s Guard.

  He tightened his grip on the staff in his hand, feeling the hum of energy within it—a reminder of what he had gained. He had powers. Plural. For years, he had dreamed of being Ascended, but the reality of it had always felt impossible. Now, he stood before the gates of the greatest city in the land, a place where only the most exceptional gathered, ready to prove himself. Lloyd lifted his gaze once more to the towering gate. He would not only enter this city—he would rise within it.

  A guard in chainmail and a steel helmet stepped forward, his eyes sharp beneath the rim of his helmet. “Are you lot here to join the King’s Guard?” he asked, his voice steady and commanding as he pointed to the Corrupted head on Regal's back.

  “Yes, sir,” Regal replied confidently.

  “Well, just in time,” the guard said, his expression thoughtful. “Actually, maybe a little late now that I think of it. They’re gathering an audience with the King right now. It’s only for Omegas, though."

  “Yes,” Lloyd interjected, his voice firm. “We’re all Omegas.”

  The rest of the group exchanged wary glances but said nothing, following Lloyd’s lead.

  “Well then,” the guard said, gesturing down a wide, marble-paved road leading deeper into the city. “Just follow this road to the castle. The guards at the entrance will get you sorted for the audience. You, might not make it in time though. Once the King arrives, they won’t allow anyone in until it is over.”

  “Actually, Dave,” another guard nearby interjected, glancing around. “I think Britney’s somewhere nearby. Oi, Britney! You here?” the guard yelled.

  A faint popping sound interrupted the conversation, and a woman in chainmail appeared beside them, her helmet tucked under her arm. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight braid, and her expression was one of mild exasperation.

  “What do you need?” Britney asked, glancing at the guard before her eyes settled on Lloyd’s group.

  “Group of Omegas here,” the second guard explained. “Thought maybe you could shuttle them up there in time.”

  Britney checked a slim watch strapped to her wrist, tapping it thoughtfully. “They’ve got two minutes before the King arrives. Getting four people and a pet up there is going to be tricky. I won’t be able to teleport again for the rest of the week.”

  The first guard gave her a side-eye. Britney rolled her eyes and stepped forward.

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  “All right,” she said, motioning to the group. “You two ladies, grab my hand. Same for the fox—just put its paw on my arm. You gentlemen, one hand each on my shoulders. Get ready for an adventure.”

  The group obeyed, arranging themselves awkwardly around Britney. She began a countdown, her voice calm despite the rush. “Three… two… one…”

  The world plunged into darkness before exploding into light. The sudden shift left Lloyd’s senses reeling as they reappeared in a massive room. Towering stone pillars stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, their bases lined with iron braziers that cast flickering light across the polished marble floor. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of burning oil. Lloyd wanted to look more around the room but was distracted by the feeling in his gut. The sensations swimming around his body and mind were exactly like how he felt when he came to after sleepwalking in Breakwater.

  Noise and movement shook him out of his thoughts. Lloyd blinked, his gaze darting around the throne room. The grandeur of the space matched the scale of the city outside. His attention was drawn to the far end of the room, where a massive stone throne sat atop a raised platform, draped in rich purple fabric. Guards flanked the throne on either side, their stoic faces barely visible beneath their helmets.

  Britney stepped to the side of the room, joining a cluster of guards who were deep in conversation, their murmurs barely audible over the faint hum of the room’s activity. Lloyd adjusted his stance, his boots clicking softly against the marble floor as he tried to steady himself after the disorienting teleportation.

  He finally turned his focus to his companions. Regal was already standing tall, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword, his posture stiff with anticipation. Colette clutched her staff tightly, her eyes darting around the room as if trying to take in every detail at once. Sheena leaned casually against one of the nearby pillars, her expression calm but her eyes sharp, as if assessing the room for potential threats. Milla sat at her side, her glowing blue eyes scanning the gathered crowd.

  Lloyd’s stomach churned as he fully processed where they were. The throne room wasn’t just an architectural marvel; it was the nerve center of The Citadel’s power. The weight of it pressed down on him, making him feel small and out of place. Yet, beneath the unease, a flicker of pride stirred within him. He had made it here. They all had.

  “That’s the Queen,” Colette whispered, breaking his thoughts. She tilted her chin toward the platform.

  Lloyd followed her gaze to the woman standing before the throne. Queen Faye was striking, her chainmail gleaming under the braziers’ light. Unlike the heavier armor of the guards, hers seemed tailored for agility, its fine links catching the light like liquid silver. Her bearing was regal yet approachable, a blend of strength and grace that commanded attention.

  Lloyd straightened, feeling the need to make a good impression, though he doubted she could see him amidst the gathered prospects. Around the room, other groups stood in clusters, each arranged with an air of quiet anticipation. The men and women were of varying ages, their clothing and armor styles hinting at diverse backgrounds. Some looked calm and prepared, while others shifted nervously, their hands fidgeting with weapons or gear.

  “Thank you all for making the journey here today,” Queen Faye began, her voice clear and authoritative, yet warm enough to put the room at ease. “My name is Faye, and I am the Queen of this kingdom. We are excited to welcome the first group of Omegas in our Kingdom’s history. You have all come here to prove yourselves, and we are eager to see what you are capable of.”

  She began pacing slowly along the line of prospects, her sharp eyes taking in each person she passed. “The west grows more dangerous by the day, and we need warriors with the strength and determination to protect our people. My husband, the King, is currently fighting on the front lines, securing one of our strongholds. He will join us shortly, and the formal presentations will begin.”

  As she spoke, Lloyd couldn’t help but glance at the ornate throne. It seemed less a chair and more a monument, its carved stone sides were etched with intricate designs. The fabric draped across its surface was an impossibly rich shade of purple, the color deepened by the golden accents along the edges.

  Lloyd’s chest tightened as his gaze shifted back to the Queen. He realized the magnitude of what was happening. They weren’t just entering a city; they were stepping into history. The King’s Guard was the stuff of legends, and now he stood among others vying for a place in its ranks. But he wasn’t like the rest. He wasn’t an Omega. His powers had emerged late, and his unique abilities set him apart in ways he wasn’t sure would be welcomed.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a faint popping sound near the throne. Lloyd’s head snapped toward the noise just as a towering figure appeared beside the Queen. King Kratos materialized with an air of unshakable authority, his presence filling the room.

  The King’s attire was both practical and imposing. He wore a dark trench coat over a deep purple shirt, both now slick with blood and gore, hung heavily over his broad shoulders. His black leather pants were similarly marred, the sheen of polished leather obscured by streaks of mud, ash, and viscera. A beautifully crafted sword hung at his hip, its ornate hilt glinting faintly with gold and ivory beneath the thick coating of blood that smeared across it, as though hastily wiped clean. Even the scabbard was not spared, streaked with dark stains and the occasional fleck of flesh.

  Lloyd’s gaze traveled to the blade itself, catching a glimpse of the steel’s intricate craftsmanship—the delicate etchings along its surface blurred by congealed blood. The weapon seemed to radiate a residual heat, as if it had been used moments before with deadly precision. The sight of the gore-soaked monarch sent a shiver down Lloyd’s spine, a stark reminder of the brutal reality of the Kingdom’s wars.

  As the King stepped forward, his boots left smeared, wet prints on the stone floor, each step accompanied by a faint squelch. The air seemed to carry the sharp tang of iron and sweat, mingling with the faint hum of energy that still clung to the room from his sudden arrival.

  Lloyd’s mind raced as he tried to grasp the implications of what he was seeing. He teleported here like this? The sheer amount of Mana required to perform such a feat—especially after fighting in a battle so clearly vicious—was staggering. Teleportation alone was an advanced and exhausting spell, but to do so while battered and bloodied, likely with injuries sustained in the fray? It was a display of power Lloyd had only ever read about, and witnessing it firsthand left him both awestruck and uneasy.

  The King stood tall despite the carnage clinging to him, his expression unreadable. His eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned the room, and for a moment, Lloyd thought they might meet his own. The King’s presence seemed to fill the space, his bloody visage lending him an almost mythic aura, as if he were less a man and more a force of nature—unrelenting, indomitable, and utterly terrifying.

  The King’s face was rugged, framed by a sharp jawline and a neatly trimmed beard. His piercing eyes scanned the room with an intensity that seemed to weigh and measure every soul present. Without a word, he removed his belt and draped it over the arm of his throne before sitting down, his movements deliberate and controlled.

  “King Kratos, everyone,” Queen Faye announced. The room immediately fell silent as every person, including Lloyd, dropped into a bow. The King gave a curt nod to his wife, signaling her to continue.

  “We will begin the presentations now,” Faye said, motioning to the far end of the line. “I need your name, where you are from, proof of your battle readiness, and a demonstration of your power. If you have a mutation, I will need to know that as well.”

  The Queen’s gaze lingered briefly on Lloyd’s group at the opposite end of the room, her expression unreadable. She turned back to the first prospect in line, her commanding presence drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Let us begin,” she said, her voice steady and resolute.