The girl, still flushed from her performance, sprinted forward without hesitation. When she reached him, she threw her arms around him with the innocent boldness of a child who saw not a sovereign, but a protector. Josh bent, lifting her into his arms as though she weighed no more than a feather. His smile, rare and radiant, softened his otherwise commanding face.
Then, with the girl resting against him, he turned to the gathered crowd.
"I have a declaration," he announced, his voice carrying across the arena, rich and unwavering. "From this day forth, the practices of the vocational school will be adopted across the other institutions—yes, even the mage school and the martial arts school. The Kingly School already embraces this, and so remains in stride with my will. But now, the rest must follow. For knowledge without skill is unbalanced, and strength without craft is incomplete."
A murmur rose, swelling into shouts of surprise and approval. His words struck like lightning—this was reform on a scale none had expected.
But he wasn't done. Josh held the girl a little higher, her wide eyes blinking at the sea of faces below.
"And this child," he declared, his voice deepening, "shall be named Daughter of the Empire."
Gasps spread through the crowd. To be given such a title was no small matter—it was a mark of immortality in history, a shield of honour none could strip away.
"This is a special honour I will bestow on a few children today," Josh continued. "The details shall be sent to the governor and the principal of the vocational school."
The arena exploded. Nobles and commoners alike leapt to their feet, cheering, some even weeping at the grandeur of it. The girl herself, oblivious to the full weight of her new title, nestled happily in the emperor's arms. To her, it was enough to feel safe, cherished, and chosen. She did not yet grasp that she had become untouchable, that she could step away from studies tomorrow and still have songs sung of her name for generations.
But for now, she was simply a child in the embrace of the man who ruled them all—content, radiant, and crowned with destiny.
When Josh finally tried to set the girl back on her feet, she clung to him with surprising strength for her small frame. Her tiny fists gripped the folds of his royal robe, her face buried against his chest.
"No… I don't want to go," she sobbed, her voice trembling, carrying enough raw innocence to pierce the hearts of everyone watching.
Josh, patient and gentle, tried again, whispering soft words of comfort. But the child only cried harder, shaking her head fiercely as tears streamed down her cheeks. The mighty emperor—who had stood unflinching against blades and threats of war—was now held hostage by a little girl's affection.
A ripple of emotion swept through the arena. Soldiers shifted uneasily, their hardened eyes softening. Nobles glanced at one another, their lips tightening, some hiding their own tears behind composed masks. The generals, men accustomed to blood and discipline, found themselves moved by the simple, unshakable truth before them: their emperor was not just feared, he was loved.
Eventually, her mother was summoned. The woman approached hesitantly, bowing low before daring to touch her daughter's shoulders. Even then, the girl refused to let go, until her mother coaxed her gently, whispering promises that she would see the emperor again. At last, with tear-streaked cheeks, the child loosened her grip, leaving Josh's arms reluctantly as though she were surrendering the sun itself.
Josh watched her go, his expression calm but warm, his hand lingering in the air as if to bless her. The crowd erupted again—not with the thunder of applause this time, but with murmurs and sighs, admiration that flowed like a tide. To see their sovereign regarded not as a distant figure upon a throne, but as a man embraced by the youngest of his empire—it cemented his greatness in their eyes.
The governor himself, standing among the nobles, nodded with misty eyes. "A man who wins the love of a child wins the love of a nation," he murmured, and none around him could disagree.
But soon the air shifted. The moment of tenderness passed into anticipation as the next phase of the day's grand event began.
"Battle between the kids of The martial arts school and the mages of the Oradonian Order," the herald cried, his voice carrying high into the charged air.
The crowd roared. This was what many had come for—the clash of strength and skill, body against sorcery, fists against spells. The arena floor was cleared, dust swirling in the shafts of sunlight, banners fluttering in the wind. Children of both schools marched forward, their youthful faces sharpened by training and discipline, their eyes burning with determination.
The soldiers straightened, nobles leaned forward, and even Josh himself settled back into his seat with a keen glimmer in his gaze.
The spectacle was about to begin.
The governor, Raphael MacNelly, leaned slightly toward Josh, pointing discreetly at a boy standing at the very front of the martial arts school's line. His hair, golden like ripened wheat, shone under the sunlight, and his black training gown swayed gently in the breeze.
"My Lord Emperor," the governor whispered reverently, "that boy in black is one of your fiercest admirers. He models himself after you—he carries a rod as you once did, and tries to mirror the courage and calm you displayed in battle. Today, he burns for the chance to prove himself before your eyes. Among his peers, he is regarded as the Third Lion of the martial arts school, not for his age, but for his astonishing comprehension and lightning speed of cultivation."
Josh's gaze settled on the boy. Their eyes met across the arena. The boy's expression was a mixture of awe and unshakable devotion, as though he were staring not at a man, but at a god he prayed to.
Josh's heart twisted. For a brief, aching moment, sorrow surged within him. If only I had not lost my cultivation to Coma PELLA's treachery… he thought bitterly. If only the Kingly System still flowed unbroken, I could have taken this child under my wing, guided him, shaped him into a protector for the empire.
But that path was severed. His generals too were shackled, their growth arrested by the collapse of the very system that once elevated them. He had urged them—pleaded with them—to abandon the ruined framework and seek out new cultivation methods. Yet they had all refused.
Loyalty. Was it loyalty? Or was it blind faith, the kind that bound men tighter than chains? At times, Josh wondered if their devotion was strength or foolishness. Their refusal to let go of a broken system was infuriating, yet at the same time it revealed the depth of their allegiance to him. They remained tethered to him even when the foundation had crumbled.
Josh exhaled slowly, concealing the storm within. Still watching the boy, he nodded faintly. This child—this Third Lion—would be one to watch. A seed of promise, fragile yet luminous.
In that moment, a resolve crystallized within him. He would not let his empire stagnate. He would not allow his people to be trapped within the crumbling shell of a dead system. He would venture beyond their borders, into the uncharted lands, to scour for cultivation resources powerful enough to break through the limitations that held them all bound.
Because what they had now was not enough.
He knew it. Everyone knew it.
After all, only one man in the entire empire—Naze, the blind swordsman—had managed to step into the second level of the Beyond Mortal Realm. It was enough to keep the empire stable for now, but against the inevitable storm of rival empires, it was a thin shield, brittle as glass before a hammer.
Josh's fingers curled against the armrest of his throne. His eyes lingered once more on the boy in black, who still stared up at him with shining reverence.
For their sake, he thought, I must find a way.
---