The walk to the Royal Dining Hall was an experience in itself. King Alaric led the way, his regal composure a stark contrast to Ken's easy, almost predatory saunter. Elara Vance walked beside Ken, her expression a carefully controlled mask that barely concealed the storm of emotions – awe, disbelief, and a reluctant, undeniable fascination – churning within her. Master Arion trotted along, muttering to himself about "trans-dimensional bio-energetics" and "null-mana fields," occasionally bumping into tapestries. Lyla, the apprentice, trailed behind them, her gaze fixed on Ken's broad, muscular back, a blush blooming on her cheeks every time he shifted.
Nobles and servants alike flattened themselves against the walls as the unusual procession passed. Their whispered awe was palpable. "That's him… the Otherworlder…" "He shattered Sir Gideon's blade with his bare hands!" "They say magic itself recoils from him…"
Ken, of course, acted as if he owned the place. He glanced at an ornate, jewel-encrusted suit of armor standing sentinel in a niche. "Bit flashy for a fight, don't you think? All those shiny bits are just targets."
King Alaric chuckled, a surprisingly hearty sound. "That, Master Ken, is ceremonial. Worn by my ancestor, King Theron the Just, during the Unification Wars."
"Ah, so he liked looking pretty while kicking ass. Respect." Ken nodded sagely.
The Royal Dining Hall was a masterpiece of stone and stained glass, a long, polished table of dark, gleaming wood dominating its center. Gold and silver platters, laden with roasted meats, exotic fruits, and steaming breads, already graced its surface. Servants, eyes wide and nervous, stood ready.
As they took their seats – King Alaric at the head, Ken surprisingly placed to his right (a position of high honor), Elara and Arion opposite – Lord Valerius made his re-entrance. He looked like he'd swallowed a particularly sour lemon, but he plastered on a sickly smile.
"Your Majesty," Valerius began, bowing stiffly, "I trust your… discussion with the… individual… was fruitful? I merely wished to ensure all protocols for entertaining… guests of uncertain origin are being observed." His emphasis on 'guests' was dripping with disdain.
Ken picked up a heavy, silver goblet, examining it. "Uncertain origin? Buddy, I know exactly where I came from. It's here that's the question mark. And this cup? Solid craftsmanship, but a bit soft." With a casual flex of his fingers, the thick silver stem of the goblet twisted like taffy, reshaping itself into a crude, abstract spiral before he set it down with a soft clink. The metal groaned audibly.
Valerius's eyes bulged. The servants froze. Arion's jaw dropped again. Elara pressed her lips together, hiding a smirk.
King Alaric calmly picked up the deformed goblet. "Indeed. It seems our smiths will need to… reinforce the tableware when you are in residence, Master Ken." His gaze on Valerius was pointed. "As for protocols, Lord Chamberlain, rest assured, I am handling them. You may join us, or you may find your other duties pressing."
Valerius, visibly shaken by the casual display of impossible strength, mumbled an apology and quickly found a seat at the far end of the table, looking distinctly green.
The meal began. Ken attacked his food with the same focused intensity he brought to a fight. He tried a roasted bird, something akin to a giant pheasant. "Not bad," he grunted through a mouthful. "Needs more spice though. You guys ever hear of chili peppers?"
A young, trembling servant girl was refilling his water goblet (a new, hopefully sturdier one) when her hand slipped. The heavy pitcher tilted, threatening to douse the King. Before anyone could react, before Elara could even lunge, Ken's hand shot out – a blur. He didn't just catch the pitcher; his fingers moved with such precision that not a single drop spilled. He righted it, then gave the terrified servant girl a reassuring wink that made her blush scarlet and nearly drop it again.
"Easy there, kiddo," Ken said. "No harm, no foul."
King Alaric watched this with keen interest. "Your reflexes, Master Ken, are as astonishing as your strength."
"Comes with the territory," Ken replied, already tearing into a leg of some unidentifiable but delicious roasted beast.
"The territory of… being the World's Strongest?" Arion ventured, leaning forward eagerly.
"Pretty much. Can't be the strongest if you're slow, can you?" Ken stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
After the main course, as servants cleared the platters, King Alaric leaned back, his expression growing serious. "Master Ken, let us speak plainly. Aeridor is a strong kingdom, but we are not without our wolves at the door. To the north, the Barbarian Hordes of the Frozen Waste grow bolder each year, their raids pushing further south. To the east, the Shadowmire creeps, birthing horrors that defy sanity, twisted by dark, ancient magic. And within our own borders…" He paused, his gaze troubled. "There are whispers of a clandestine cult, 'The Obsidian Hand,' seeking to destabilize the realm from within, preying on discontent and wielding magics most foul."
Elara nodded grimly. "We've lost good soldiers to all three, Your Majesty. The Shadowmire beasts, in particular, are resistant to conventional steel and even many forms of magic."
"Indeed," the King continued. "Sir Gideon, for all his might, has been wounded grievously by Shadowmire Blights. Our mages struggle to contain their corrupting influence. We need… an edge. Something new. Something… unbreakable." His eyes locked onto Ken. "Your arrival, your unique… lack of susceptibility to magic, your unparalleled physical power… it is either a curse or a blessing, Master Ken. I am choosing to believe it can be the latter, for Aeridor."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "I offer you a position. Not merely as a soldier, or a guard. I offer you the title of 'King's Shield, Unbound.' A unique station. You would answer only to me. Your duties would be to face threats that others cannot. You would have access to the Royal Treasury for reasonable expenses, the best accommodations the Citadel can offer, and the full support of my resources, including Master Arion's knowledge, to investigate the nature of your arrival and, if you wish it, a potential way home."
Ken listened, idly spinning a heavy silver platter on one fingertip. The platter, weighing at least twenty pounds, whirled like a child's toy, perfectly balanced.
"King's Shield, Unbound," Ken mused. "Catchy title. What's the fine print?"
"The fine print," Alaric said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "is that you would be placing yourself in considerable danger. The enemies of Aeridor are not to be trifled with. And there will be those, like Lord Valerius, who will resent your presence, your power, your… directness."
Ken stopped the platter. "Danger is my middle name. Well, actually it's Jiro, but 'Danger' sounds cooler. As for resentful pricks, they usually learn to keep their distance once they understand the dental bill." He looked at Elara. "Captain here seems capable. She can watch my back from the paperwork side of things. I'm not much for reports."
Elara straightened, surprised to be directly addressed. "I… I would do my duty, Master Ken, as the King commands." There was a flush on her high cheekbones.
"Good. Because I have conditions," Ken stated, his gaze sweeping over the King, Arion, and even Valerius, who flinched.
"One: I fight my way. No stupid orders from armchair generals telling me how to crack skulls. If there's a problem, point me at it, and I'll solve it. My methods might not be pretty, but they're effective."
The King nodded slowly. "Within reason. Your methods, while… unorthodox, have proven their efficacy."
"Two: I'm not a political pawn. Don't try to marry me off to some princess to forge an alliance unless she's also a five-time martial arts champion with a good right hook and an appreciation for chaos. And even then, I'll think about it."
Lyla, who had been quietly observing, giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Arion looked scandalized, then intrigued. Elara coughed.
"Your… romantic life… will remain your own concern, Master Ken," King Alaric said, managing to keep a straight face, though his eyes twinkled.
"Three," Ken continued, his voice hardening slightly. "If I find a way home that doesn't involve me getting sucked through another cosmic blender, I take it. No arguments. My world might be full of idiots, but it's my world."
"A reasonable stipulation," the King conceded. "We would aid you in that endeavor, as promised."
Ken leaned back, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "Alright then, Your Majesty. Sounds like a decent gig. Better than fighting over-muscled goons in a cage for a paycheck, anyway. You've got yourself a King's Shield." He grinned. "When do I start breaking things for a living?"
Just as the King was about to reply, a frantic Royal Guard burst into the dining hall, his armor askew, his face pale with terror.
"Your Majesty! Forgive the intrusion! Urgent news from the Western Garrison!" he panted. "The Gryphon Roost! It's… it's under attack! A… a creature of immense power! It broke through the outer wards like they were parchment! It's… it's slaughtering the Royal Gryphons!"
Elara shot to her feet. "The Royal Gryphons! But they are our swiftest messengers, our eyes in the sky! What could possibly—?"
The guard stammered, "They say… they say it's a… a Sky-Tyrant! A young one, but still… its roar shatters stone, its scales deflect ballista bolts!"
King Alaric's face went grim. "A Sky-Tyrant? Here? So close to the Citadel? Impossible! They haven't been seen this far south in centuries!"
Arion looked horrified. "A Sky-Tyrant! Even a young one possesses devastating elemental magic! Wind blades, lightning breath! Its hide is tougher than dragon scale!"
Ken stood up, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. His dark eyes gleamed with an unholy light. The casual, almost bored demeanor he'd worn during the meal vanished, replaced by the focused intensity of a predator that had just scented fresh, exciting prey.
"Sky-Tyrant, huh?" he said, cracking his knuckles. The sound was like small explosions in the suddenly silent hall. "Elemental magic? Tough hide? Sounds like a step up from the furball and the tin can."
He looked at King Alaric. "Guess my first day on the job starts now. Where's this Gryphon Roost?"
Elara, already buckling her sword belt tighter, looked at him, a mixture of dread and awe on her face. "Master Ken, a Sky-Tyrant is not like anything you've faced! It's a creature of immense magical power and brute strength! Sir Gideon himself would hesitate—"
"Hesitation gets you killed, Captain," Ken cut her off, his voice a low growl of anticipation. "And I don't do 'killed'." He started walking towards the door, his every movement exuding coiled power. "Besides," he added, glancing back with a grin that sent shivers down everyone's spines, "someone needs to teach this overgrown lizard some manners. And I'm the best damn teacher there is."
The King, Elara, Arion, and even the terrified guard watched him go. The air in the hall crackled with the aftermath of his presence.
"By the Sacred Light," King Alaric breathed, a hand on his chest. "He's actually… eager."
Arion nodded, his eyes wide. "He doesn't perceive it as a threat, Your Majesty. He perceives it as a… a challenge. A new opponent to test himself against."
Elara felt a knot of fear tighten in her stomach, but beneath it, an undeniable, thrilling pulse of excitement. This man, this Ken Ryugasaki, was about to face one of the legendary terrors of their world, armed with nothing but his bare hands and an impossible confidence.
And she had a horrifying, exhilarating feeling that the Sky-Tyrant was in for a very, very bad day. The goosebumps were back, stronger than ever. This was no longer just about a strange visitor; this was about witnessing the impossible become reality, one devastating blow at a time.