The royal palace was a sprawling structure of gold and marble, with towering spires that seemed to scrape the heavens. Asher had never been fond of these grandiose displays, preferring the simplicity and strategic importance of his estate. But today, as he entered the royal chamber, there was no denying the weight of the occasion. The royal meeting was being held to address a crisis of unprecedented scale, and he, now the heir to House Eryx, had been invited as a high noble—allowed to sit on the grand seat of authority beside the king himself.
The hall was filled with the most powerful figures in the kingdom: the wealthiest nobles, influential guild leaders, military commanders, and high-ranking officials. Asher could feel their eyes on him as he entered, and he held his gaze steady, never letting the pressure show. His face remained as calm as ever, though his mind raced with the implications of what he had just learned.
Sitting at the head of the room was King Alistair, a man of considerable age but still possessing the sharpness of mind and body that came with his royal bloodline. Beside him were his children, the twins, Princess Lilly and Prince Malvin, both around Asher's age. They sat with regal composure, their gazes cold as they surveyed the room, yet there was a hint of curiosity in their eyes as they locked onto Asher. They had heard of his rise to power, and today, they would be meeting him for the first time.
Asher took his seat at the high table, where a silver goblet sat before him, untouched. He scanned the room, noting the tense atmosphere. No one dared speak a word as King Alistair rose from his throne. His voice, commanding and authoritative, filled the room.
"I thank you all for attending this urgent meeting," the king began. "You are gathered here today not merely as nobles of the kingdom, but as leaders of a world in crisis."
The nobles exchanged uncertain glances. What could possibly be so grave that it warranted the gathering of so many high-ranking individuals? Asher felt a knot tighten in his stomach, knowing that whatever the king was about to reveal, it would change everything.
"This," King Alistair continued, "is no mere national issue. It is a global crisis. A shadow has fallen across the entire world, and it is one we must confront together, as a unified force."
A ripple of shock passed through the assembly. The king had never spoken of global matters in such a way. The nobles had assumed this meeting was called to address a national issue, perhaps the food shortage or the instability in certain territories. But global? That was something entirely different.
Asher's heart began to race, and beads of sweat formed on his brow as he looked at the sheet of information given to him. The king, noticing his discomfort, turned his gaze to the young noble with a knowing look. But Asher held his composure, careful not to reveal his inner turmoil.
"You may be wondering," the king continued, "what this crisis is. Well, I will tell you. It all began with a man known only as the One-Handed Conqueror."
A hushed silence fell over the room as the name struck fear into the hearts of many. Asher's pulse quickened. He had heard whispers of this man—rumors of his conquests and his ruthless methods. But to hear it from the king himself made the situation all the more real.
"The One-Handed Conqueror," the king said, his tone cold, "is responsible for the death of an entire kingdom's ruling family. He struck without warning, slaughtering the king and his soldiers in cold blood. His forces have since taken control of the army, and with it, he has begun waging war across the surrounding nations."
The room fell into chaos. Nobles whispered frantically to one another, some fearful, others confused. Asher's mind raced—he knew that the One-Handed Conqueror had to be someone connected to him. He had seen the scars of his clones—one of them had lost a hand in a brutal fight. His heart dropped as the realization hit him like a hammer.
"And that's not all," King Alistair's voice rang out again, cutting through the murmurs. "We've received reports from multiple guilds—the Assassin Guild, the Mercenary Guild, the Information Guild, and even the Dark Magician Cult. All their leaders have been killed, and their organizations thrown into disarray."
A chill ran down Asher's spine. He knew exactly what the king was talking about. His clones had infiltrated each of those organizations, carrying out deadly missions of their chioce—or, more likely, to follow their own path who had taken the travelled far. But even with the clones now spread across the world, Asher had never imagined the consequences would reach this far.
"As if that weren't enough," King Alistair continued, "there has been a surge in secret cloning experiments, as well as dark magic involving the resurrection of long-dead beings. These events are all interconnected, and they point to a larger force at play—one that seeks to destabilize the entire kingdom, and perhaps, the entire world."
Asher's mind reeled. He knew this was no coincidence. His clones—the ones he had let go, the ones who had been manipulated, twisted by his father's legacy—had now become a force that even he could barely control. The death of so many powerful leaders had left a vacuum, and that vacuum was being filled by anarchy.
The king's eyes turned toward Asher, his gaze sharp. "Lord Asher," he asked, his voice steady but probing, "are you alright? You look… distressed."
Asher swallowed hard, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Sweat beaded down his face, but he refused to show weakness. He knew that, despite his best efforts, the king was beginning to suspect something. And if they knew about him, his clones, their actions… he would be in far more danger than ever before.
.