Chapter 223

Kana arrived at the same king’s guest room she had visited months ago.

The guest room now was warm despite the season, the chimney already lit, flames whispering softly as they consumed polished logs. Heavy drapes framed tall windows, though one balcony door stood ajar. Cold winter air slipped inside in thin, sharp fingers, carrying the scent of snow and stone.

Kana removed her thick cloak and sat.

A few moments later, footsteps approached.

The door opened, and King J entered, dressed not in armor nor regalia, but in dark, layered robes meant for long nights of thought rather than ceremony.

He was not alone.

Janus followed at his side.

Kana’s breath hitched.

Is the king under his skill?

Her reaction was instant. She closed her eyes immediately, heart pounding once against her ribs. She tilted her head down, refusing even a fraction of a glance.

A low chuckle broke the tension.

“I suppose you didn’t know yet,” King J said mildly.

Kana did not move.

“Janus,” the king continued, voice calm, “is now my advisor.”

“He is… quite useful,” King J added, and the warmth vanished from his tone. “Especially for political purposes.”

Kana’s fingers curled slightly against the arm of the chair.

“You may open your eyes,” the king said. “Do not worry. He has sworn a vow—reinforced by your principal’s skill. Janus may only activate his abilities under my direct command.”

Kana hesitated.

Then, slowly, she opened her eyes.

She kept them lowered. She did not dare to look at Janus. What if everything was a trap?

Still, she felt him there—standing straight, composed, no trace of the desperate thief she had dragged through the snow months ago.

I underestimated the king, she realized.

She had expected torture. Interrogation. Perhaps execution. Instead, King J had done something far more dangerous yet smart—he had claimed Janus.

“I have heard of your legend, Miss Kana,” Janus said, voice steady, respectful. “Your achievements are… impressive.”

Kana resisted the urge to flinch.

Janus extended a hand. A book rested upon his palm, bound in dark leather, its surface etched faintly with inactive runes.

“This,” he said, “is the unsold skill book from my vault. I never bothered recording its description. You may have it appraised at the Adventurers’ Guild.”

Kana reached out and took it—swiftly, efficiently—without ever raising her gaze.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll gladly take it.”

King J cleared his throat.

“I did not summon you merely to exchange pleasantries,” he said, moving toward the balcony. Snow drifted beyond the stone rail, slow and silent, catching moonlight as it fell. “You are here because you must entertain our guests.”

Kana frowned. “You’re serious about that? I don’t think I’m good at entertaining someone.”

The king did not refute. He nodded,“I told you before about the empire’s cultural exchange—the exchange of duels between the younger generations. They have visited kingdoms across the continent.” He paused, a faint smile forming. “They defeated everyone.”

He turned, eyes sharp.

“Except us who recorded a win.”

Kana’s chest tightened.

“You,” King J said simply.

“The Western—Holy—Kingdom has taken notice. They have formally requested that their most talented students learn from us.” His voice carried a quiet edge. “If this exchange strengthens alliances and sharpens their blades, I see no reason to refuse. And I know they hated the empire more than us.”

Kana pondered. She wasn’t much interested in the holy kingdom located at the western part of the continent. They were the weakest of the nation though she was impressed their religion heavily influenced all the nations.

King J folded his hands behind his back. “Your task is simple. Teach them—just enough. It’s up to you. I don’t even have the slightest idea how your strength is comparable to the royal knight at such a young age. I’m curious but I will not ask. I’ll gladly listen if you tell me.”

Kana hesitated and cleared her throat, “I’m not seeing how this benefits me.”

King J’s smile widened, slow and knowing.

“I assumed you’d say that.” He gestured lightly. “Which is why this will be your second quest as the fameless group.”

Kana coughed, then glanced sideways—careful not to meet Janus’s eyes. “Is it alright for him to hear this?”

“Yes,” the king said without hesitation. “His vow will kill him the moment he betrays me.”

Kana exhaled. He’s basically a slave without a collar.

“Good,” she muttered.

King J clasped his hands together once. “As promised, you will be rewarded. One item. Chosen from the royal treasury.”

Kana’s expression transformed instantly. Her fatigue vanished. Her caution evaporated. She nodded—fast. “Yes.”

The king chuckled at Kana’s change of attitude.

“Come,” he said, turning toward the door. “Let us see what fate decides to place in your hands this year.”

The treasure room lay deep beneath the castle, far below corridors meant for servants or soldiers. The stone here was older—rough, unpolished in places, as though the mountain itself had been hollowed out and told to remember what it guarded.

King J led the way down the final steps.

They stopped before an enormous door.

It was ancient, its surface etched with faded runes and scars from repairs of who knows when. The metal was dark, dulled not by rust but by age, as if even time hesitated to touch it too roughly.

Five knights stood before it.

All wore identical armor, polished and formal—but Kana felt it immediately. One of them stood just a fraction straighter. His presence pressed outward, subtle yet undeniable. 

A royal knight? Kana thought. The feeling he gave her was uncomfortably familiar. Like Zia. Like the guild master. The kind of person you didn’t notice until you were already too close—and then it was too late.

The five knights bowed in unison.

“I have already explained your visit,” King J said calmly. “You may choose only one item. Once you leave this room, the choice is final.”

He glanced at Kana, expression was amused. “If you hesitate too long and never get anything,” he added, “that will still count as your selection by picking nothing.”

Why wouldn’t I pick anything? Kana inhaled slowly.

The knights stepped forward and pushed. The door opened with a groan that echoed through the stone corridor, the sound heavy and deliberate, like the awakening of something that preferred to remain asleep.

Light spilled out.

Not torchlight—but enchanted illumination, woven into the walls themselves. Pale blue and gold threads of mana traced the stone, casting the chamber in a steady, unwavering glow.

Kana stepped inside and behind her the door was slowly closing.

Her shoulders relaxed—just a little.

At least it wasn’t dark. The room was vast. Larger than she expected. Every item was arranged with meticulous care, racks spaced evenly, aisles wide enough for armored soldiers to pass through without brushing against history.

Weapons first.

Swords of every length and style. Spears whose tips hummed faintly. Bows strung with materials Kana couldn’t immediately identify. Daggers that seemed to drink the light around them. Different staffs capped with crystals as if alive.

Beyond them—jewelry.

Rings set with stones that felt aware. Pendants etched with sigils probably older than the kingdom’s existence. And farther still—skill books. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Each was bound differently. Each radiating a unique signature of mana.

Kana gulped. She could feel it.

Not overwhelming—nothing screamed for attention—but every item carried weight. Power held in restraint. Dungeon items, all of them. The kind people built legends around… or died trying to steal.

Kana clicked her tongue softly.

“The king got me.”

The room was organized.

Too organized.

Yet there were no plaques. No descriptions. No names.

Nothing to tell her what these bunch of dungeon items did.

Her initial plan resurfaced—it was to get something that could resist hypnosis or any type of mind related skills. Something that could guard her mind. But here with dungeon items without description?

She now understood what the king meant by not picking anything. Her gaze drifted to the skill books.

Her desire wanted to pick any of them but what if she chose the wrong one? A sword technique? A skill incompatible with her class? One that demanded a cost she couldn’t afford?

She exhaled slowly.

Remember. One choice.

No second chances. No advisors. No [Analyst] grandmother to help her out this time. Will it be alright to invite that old lady here next time?

Kana turned away from the books.

Weapons, then.

Something reliable. Something that wouldn’t betray her. She stopped before the bows, should be alright, they were probably more powerful compared to what she was using especially on the upcoming vacation dungeon grind.

However, there were many. Too many. Elegant longbows. Compact recurve bows. Ones reinforced with metal or bone. Some hummed softly; others were eerily silent.

Kana reached out—not thinking too hard—and lifted one.

It felt right.

Balanced. Neither too heavy nor too light. The grip fit her hand as if it had been waiting. The string thrummed faintly when she drew it back just a little, responsive without resistance.

No pressure.

No warning.

“I’ll take this,” Kana said.

She slung the bow over her shoulder before doubt could creep in.

She knocked twice and the knights waiting on the other side quickly opened the ancient door. As Kana turned to leave, the massive door began to close behind her, its echo rolling through the stone once more—sealing away untold power, and locking in a single, irrevocable choice.

…..

Kana didn’t return to her room.

Instead of the warmth of the dormitory and the promise of rest, her steps carried her straight toward the training field, where lanternlight spilled across packed earth. The night patrol pre-assembly had already begun.

Even with final exams looming like a blade over every student’s head, the academy never suspended night patrol duties.  Cold air brushed against Kana’s cheeks as she joined the others. Frost clung to the edges of the field, crunching softly beneath boots. Above them, the sky was a deep, starless black.

Professor Len stood at the center, posture straight as a spear. After checking attendance, she clasped her hands once.

“The third night of this week’s patrol begins now,” she announced.

The academy gates creaked open. Routes were reassigned every week. No patterns. Anyone foolish enough to memorize them would find themselves wrong—and exposed.

As they walked, their breath fogging the air, Suri leaned closer to Kana, hands tucked behind her head as if this were a casual stroll rather than a security operation.

“So,” she said lightly, “who are the poor souls about to suffer from your entertainment?”

Rin laughed before she could stop herself. Yuri covered her mouth, shoulders shaking.

Kana sighed. “The king didn’t forbid me from telling anyone, so I guess it’s fine.”

She stared ahead, “A few months from now, selected students from the western kingdom will arrive. Talented ones. They’ll enroll here—at least for the first part of the year.”

Toby, who had been walking several steps behind, suddenly stiffened. His ears twitched.

He narrowed his eyes, quickened his pace, and slid closer to the group. He cleared his throat. “I… already know about that.”

Yuri didn’t even look at him. “We certainly didn’t ask.”

Toby coughed again, clearly unwilling—or unable—to stop. “The empire didn’t just send students here,” he continued. “They sent them to the western kingdom. And the southern one too.”

That made Kana’s steps slow, just a fraction.

“With the same purpose,” Toby said. “Duels. Measuring the strength of the younger generation.”

His voice dropped, almost reverent. Even Leo and Andel leaned closer to him. Adam though didn’t bother to listen and took his patrol seriously along with Clint.

“No one won. Not there. Not anywhere.”

He glanced at Kana.

“Except our kingdom. Except you.”

“So now,” Toby went on, “other kingdoms are curious. How we raised this generation. Not just the west—there’s talk the southern kingdom might send students too.”

Kana felt a bit disturbed. Very few people should know this much. About the empire’s cultural exchange. The duels across kingdoms. 

How… did Toby know all of this?

Her fingers flexed unconsciously.

Is he just well-connected? Or… perhaps a spy from the empire?

The thought made her throat dry.

A sudden bump broke her focus.

“Oof—my bad,” Boris muttered.

Kana looked down. Boris was holding her handwritten notes—the ones she’d painstakingly prepared so he could survive the final exams. The pages were dog-eared, smudged, clearly read far more than Boris would ever admit.

The exams this time were harder. Much harder. That was what she heard.

She glanced at Boris, then up at the small black lizard perched on his head. Thorne yawned widely, tiny tongue curling, utterly unconcerned with exams, empires, or whatever was around.

Will Boris really pass?

Post note:

Hope you enjoy the chap 🙂