250 The King Foretold

The people below dwarfed even the largest Imperials—men and women alike towered over the average soldier.

Dressed in thick furs, they worked tirelessly, repairing homes, skinning massive beasts, and going about their daily lives.

It was… familiar, in a way. A village like any other.

Yet at the same time, utterly surreal.

“…Are they carrying logs under each arm?”

“The animals they’re skinning are all predators.”

The warriors below lifted weights that would make Imperial soldiers strain and struggle, moving with effortless strength.

Men handled monstrous beasts like they were no more than oversized hares, flipping them over with one hand as they worked.

Even the smallest among them looked capable of crushing an Imperial knight in seconds.

If any one of them were placed in the Empire’s elite forces, they would dominate the battlefield.

“My lord,” Gunstein said, removing his heavy outer cloak and offering it to William.

“You should wear this before going down.”

William eyed the thick, oversized garment with mild distaste.

“Is it necessary? I’ll look ridiculous—it’s far too big for me.”

“It’s proof that my rights now belong to you. You must wear it when you enter.”

William exhaled.

“Fine. I suppose I have no choice.”

He draped the cloak over his shoulders.

Thankfully, it didn’t drag on the ground—it was large, but not that large.

He could at least maintain some dignity.

And then, the moment their group descended into the village—

Gasp!

“It can’t be…!”

“Impossible!”

“At last!”

The entire village erupted into chaos.

William blinked in confusion.

‘What the hell is going on?’

He had expected hostility. Suspicion, at the very least.

But this wasn’t fear of an intruder—this was something else entirely.

There was awe. Reverence.

And for some, a desperate, almost feverish hope.

Then, as if to confirm his suspicions, someone cried out.

“Our king has come!”

William’s eyes widened.

“…What?”

The sudden proclamation left William’s group staring at Gunstein.

Their expressions made it clear—they expected him to know something.

Gunstein, however, frantically shook his head.

“I-I have no idea what’s happening!”

“Nothing at all?”

“If I had even the slightest clue, I would have told you already! A king? What nonsense is this…?”

His bewilderment seemed entirely genuine.

As the confusion thickened, the villagers, one by one, began kneeling.

“O, great king…”

“Our king has come…”

Like a ripple spreading through water, the words passed from one person to the next.

Even those who had initially hesitated, those who had not dared to call him “king” at first, now bowed.

In mere moments, the entire settlement seemed poised to prostrate before William.

And then—

“Stop this madness at once!”

A furious voice rang out from within the village.

The villagers, who had been lowering themselves in reverence, froze mid-motion, shifting awkwardly.

William turned his gaze to the source of the voice.

A middle-aged warrior, his face contorted in rage, was glaring at the gathered crowd.

“Who dares call this outsider our king?! Stand up! How can those who carry the blood of dragons kneel before a stranger they have never even met?!”

“But… the prophecy…” someone hesitantly murmured.

“Silence! If I hear another word of that foolishness, I’ll split your skull open myself!”

The man’s threat was enough to make the speaker flinch.

The rest of the villagers, sensing the shift in atmosphere, began hesitantly rising to their feet.

With the moment broken, the warrior turned his murderous glare toward William.

“You, outsider. You have trespassed upon our land unbidden. The law is clear—those who enter without permission shall be made slaves. Serve us until the day you die, and curse the moment you set foot here.”

“Shut your mouth!”

It was Gunstein who roared back, his face flushing red with rage.

He jabbed a finger at the warrior, barely restraining himself from lunging forward.

“Are you blind?! Do you not see the cloak my lord is wearing?! He defeated me in battle! According to tradition, he must be honored as the son of the chieftain!”

The warrior scoffed.

“The son of a chieftain is only as valuable as his worth. You? You weren’t worth much to begin with!”

“Wha—what!?”

“I am merely treating this outsider as I would treat you. That is, with nothing but disdain. Now stand aside! You have lost your position. You have no right to interfere.”

“You bastard—!”

Gunstein’s eyes burned with fury.

He reached for his weapon—his own axe was shattered beyond use, so he snatched one from his subordinate instead.

Just as he was about to charge—

“Enough.”

Boom.

“Urgh!”

“Kh…!”

A voice, quiet yet commanding, carried through the air.

And with it came a crushing pressure.

Gunstein and the warrior both staggered as if a boulder had slammed down onto their shoulders.

The weight forced them to their knees, rendering them unable to move.

A clicking sound of disapproval followed.

“Tsk, tsk. I admire youthful passion, but must you resort to bloodshed so quickly?”

“Master!!”

Helen and Colin shouted in unison.

William turned his gaze toward the newcomer.

A frail-looking old man walked toward them, leaning on a long wooden staff.

Unlike the towering warriors around him, his smaller frame suggested he wasn’t one of their kind—he was Imperial.

“Kh…! What is the meaning of this, Guide?!”

The kneeling warrior managed to rasp out a protest.

The old man said nothing.

Instead, he tapped his staff against the ground.

Boom.

The pressure intensified, and the warrior collapsed entirely, his face pressed into the dirt.

“Shouting louder does not make you right,” the old man said, his voice laced with amusement. “If you lack the wit to navigate politics, perhaps you should stay out of it entirely.”

“You… the consequences—!”

“I will handle the consequences. You worry about your own.”

“Ugh!”

With a strangled groan, the warrior’s body went limp.

He had passed out, unable to withstand the sheer force bearing down on him.

Only then did the old man withdraw his power.

Gunstein and the fallen warrior were freed from their invisible shackles, gasping for breath.

William, who had watched the scene unfold, couldn’t help but be impressed.

‘Incredible. Unlike Sir Aizen, who embodies overwhelming presence, this man… feels like part of nature itself.’

A knight who mastered the art of the sword could become an unshakable force, like a mountain standing against the wind.

But this old man was different.

He didn’t stand against nature.

He was nature.

Not a single entity, but a phenomenon—like the land, the air, the shifting seasons.

An inevitability.