(3rd Person POV)
Arthur's eyes lingered on the young demon seated among the celebrities. He wasn't entirely sure if the boy possessed the same musical genius as the King of Pop from his previous world—but the resemblance was uncanny, and the coincidence of him sharing the same family name was enough for Arthur to take a gamble.
Lucy, still puzzled by her brother's interest, tilted her head and said, "How about I call that boy over? I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that Arthur Pendragon wants to bring him under Hellfire's wing."
She smirked slightly. It wasn't just curiosity—she wanted to see firsthand how Arthur would interact with the boy, and maybe, just maybe, figure out what plan he was cooking up.
Arthur was about to nod when Apollonia approached, looking apologetic. "Brother… I'm sorry you and your companions had to witness that mess earlier," she said, glancing toward where Wilbert, the orc-demon, was still being dragged away by royal doctors.
Arthur waved it off with a light chuckle. "It's not your fault, Apollonia. If anything, Yoda is the one who deserves an apology."
Apollonia turned to look at Yoda, her expression softening. "You're right—"
But before she could continue, Arthur gently stopped her. "Like I said, it's not on you." His gaze shifted coldly toward Enril. "The blame lies with him—for commanding his subordinate to attack my companion."
"I…" Apollonia hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
Nearby, Lucy and several guests—nobles and highborns—had overheard the exchange. Lucy scoffed, voice sharp. "Arthur, I know you're rich and influential, but let's not forget—you're still a commoner. You can't just demand an apology from a royal, especially not His Highness Enril."
Several nobles nodded in agreement, their expressions turning cold. Yet to everyone's surprise, Enril suddenly raised his hand.
"No, Arthur's right," Enril said calmly, forcing a polite smile. "I should apologize. It was my responsibility."
Apollonia blinked in surprise. Even she hadn't expected that. Enril, in her experience, had always been a proud and difficult man. But now… he was playing the role of humility.
Enril walked toward Yoda and offered a shallow bow. "I apologize, Master Martial. If I've offended you in any way, I ask for your forgiveness. Please pardon this ignorant demon for his earlier behavior."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. 'So that's his play… Trying to get on Yoda's good side. Clever.'
Yoda, of course, saw right through it. But he nodded solemnly. "Whether this is sincerity or showmanship for some hidden scheme, your words are humble. As a Jedi… I shall let it pass."
Enril flinched slightly at the unfamiliar word. Around them, murmurs stirred.
"Jedi?"
"What's a Jedi?"
Even Lucy was puzzled. "What does a Jedi even mean?" she whispered.
Arthur only smiled faintly, watching the confusion spread across the hall. 'Soon… the world will know exactly what a Jedi is.'
Yoda could feel the curiosity simmering in the air. Everyone in the room seemed confused by the word he had spoken—Jedi. Of course they would be. This world had no such concept. No ancient temples, no Jedi Order, no galactic guardians bound by the Force. He glanced around, expression unreadable, but in his mind, he sighed.
'How pitiful… to dwell in a world so blind to the Force it holds.'
Just as the murmurs about the strange word began to ripple through the hall, a slow, deliberate clap echoed softly across the chamber. Heads turned toward the sound—King Luke Morningstar had risen from his seat.
"I am most grateful," the king began with a polite smile, "that everyone seems to be enjoying this gathering… despite a few minor disturbances." His gaze swept briefly across the crowd before landing on Enril. "Let us continue to celebrate—especially in welcoming Prince Enril Thorne Midnightstar to Morningstar Castle."
Applause followed. Enril raised his glass in acknowledgment, offering a charming smile. Then, unexpectedly, he lifted his glass toward Arthur with a courteous nod.
Arthur mirrored the gesture with a polite, unreadable smile. Yet beneath it, his eyes remained cold. He didn't miss the way Enril's gaze lingered too long on Firfel.
"I don't like that guy," Firfel whispered, her voice low. "The way he looks at me makes my skin crawl."
Arthur gently slid an arm around her waist in a comforting gesture, his voice calm but certain. "Don't worry about him. If he tries anything…" he tilted his head toward Yoda without needing to finish the sentence. "Let's just say I won't even need to lift a finger."
Firfel relaxed slightly, smiling at his quiet confidence.
Later, while Arthur stepped away to speak with a few guests, Firfel found herself talking with Apollonia, who was beaming with curiosity.
"So… is it true?" Apollonia leaned in closer. "You and my brother—are you really together now?"
Firfel blushed slightly, glancing at Arthur from a distance. "You could say that."
Apollonia's eyes lit up. "That's wonderful! He's lucky to have you," she said warmly. Then her tone shifted, softer. "At least he found love… without being forced into anything like I am."
Firfel noticed the flicker of pain in her expression and gently placed a hand on Apollonia's shoulder, offering silent comfort.
Meanwhile, Arthur was deep in conversation with Azazel.
"I've been meaning to ask," Azazel said, sipping from his wine glass, "those dragons you bought from the Alicorn Auction… how are they?"
Arthur chuckled. "Red and Yellow? They're practically living like royalty in my courtyard."
Azazel sighed wistfully. "If only I had the coin… I would've bought one myself."
Arthur studied him for a moment. He had expected Azazel to be just like the rest of his siblings, yet surprisingly, the crown prince had proven more genuine and likable than the others. Unlike Bobby and Arnold, who had barely acknowledged him, Azazel had at least shown him respect.
"Anyway," Azazel said, shifting the topic. "There's something I've been meaning to give you… I've just never had the chance."
Arthur watched with interest as Azazel reached into his spatial ring and pulled out an odd-looking mechanical box, etched with intricate runes and gear-like patterns.
"What's that?" Arthur asked curiously.
Azazel glanced around, then waved his hand to cast a soundproofing barrier around them.
Arthur raised a brow. That alone told him this was no ordinary trinket.
Azazel leaned in slightly. "That item… it's from the Nether Realm."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Nether Realm?"
"Yes," Azazel nodded. "You probably haven't heard much about it—most people still think it's just a myth. But I went there on a special expedition a few years ago… and it lasted five years. My team and I only returned a year ago." He paused, then added with a faint smile, "That box… was one of the things I brought back."
Arthur studied the object carefully. The aura it gave off was unfamiliar—dark, ancient, and quietly pulsing with dormant energy.
"The Nether Realm… a prison world, a sanctuary for the remnants of the Ancient Demons," Azazel continued. "Dangerous, yes—but full of secrets."
Arthur's expression didn't shift, but his mind was racing. 'So he really has been to the Netherworld… and lived to tell the tale?'
He had long intended to explore that place—though only after his planned venture into the Draconic Realm. The Nether Realm was far too dangerous to enter lightly. Even the aura near the Anus Gate, the fabled entrance, had made his skin crawl when he passed by it.
That Azazel had returned from such a place alive—and with artifacts—was no small feat.
And now, Arthur had one of those relics in his hand.