In the shadow of the continent's mightiest towers and volcanoes, the Kingdom of Liria slumbered—peaceful, untouched, and generally ignored by its neighbors. Its fields, unlike the energy-harvesting spires of Solaria or the mirrored lakes of Mirenia, were nothing more than green patchwork quilted around squat villages and the modest royal palace.
But in the royal nursery, change quietly stormed the air.
"He's...done it again, Your Majesty," whispered the royal nurse, her voice trembling as she peered at the infant prince, who simply gurgled in contentment beneath a shifting haze of blue and gold light.
King Alden Liraeus, ruler of Liria by birthright (and default, as his was the only eligible noble lineage), looked uneasily at his newborn son. Little Prince Caelum had been blissfully ordinary until he turned six months old; now, strange things happened whenever he cried—or, more worryingly, whenever he giggled.
Lightbulbs exploded when he sneezed. Shadowy cats appeared and scattered the kitchen mice. The court mage had fainted when a raincloud burst through the garden ceiling mid-nap.
Liria, kingdom of quaintness, had somehow birthed a prodigy.
In the empire's capital—far to the north, where towers scraped the clouds and the air sang with power—news always traveled slower to the bottom. But not anymore.
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Palace...
"Admin...Authority?" Emperor Magnus stared at the parchment, rubbing his strong chin with a skeptical frown. His court wizard, a jittery man from the Voltaris nation, nodded.
"According to the readings, someone in Liria accessed the Macrocosm—our world's invisible system—for the first time ever, Your Majesty. The signature exceeds all elemental indexes."
The Imperial throne room, a round hall dominated by banners from every nation, erupted into chaos. The Eight Nation Leaders, always at odds (and usually bickering about whose ability was better), all clamored for attention.
"As if Liria could produce anything more dangerous than a dancing turnip!" scoffed Lady Pyrra, the flamboyant Pyrrhium leader.
"Perhaps...the system malfunctioned?" mused the shadowy Lord Umbra of Umbralia, materializing from behind a pillar for dramatic effect.
Emperor Magnus slammed his scepter. "Enough! We settle this as one empire. Gather your entourages. We leave for Liria at dawn. And no melting their sheep this time!" He shot a glare at Lady Pyrra, who pretended to look innocent.
The wizards scribbled messages, the generals armed their lieutenants, and somewhere a small, exasperated gardener prepared his apology speech for all the property damage that would inevitably follow.
Back in Liria
By his first birthday, Caelum had "fixed" his mother's failing roses, "debugged" the royal cook's burnt stew, and—according to family legend—paused a summer thunderstorm because it was too noisy for a nap.
In the hidden corner of the palace, under layers of accidental magical protection, Caelum's hidden interface flickered to life whenever he blinked.
[Ability Detected: Admin Authority. Access Level: Superuser. Status: Learning Mode.]
He could see lines of shimmering code run through people, animals—even plants. "Lock," "Unlock," "Update," "Clone"—they were just words, but whenever he focused, the world changed.
But no one outside his family knew. Liria's only hope was that the Empire, eternally distracted, would keep ignoring them. They were, after all, known just for delicious cheese, gentle citizens, and a lack of ambition.
The Emperor Arrives
One morning, the skies above Liria filled with airships shimmering in every color of the empire—red for Pyrrhium, blue for Cryostel, flashing yellow arcs for Voltaris—each more dramatic than the last.
Caelum, now a wide-eyed toddler with an impossibly serious gaze, gazed curiously from the palace balcony as the Eight arrived, each determined to either capture or claim the mysterious miracle child.
They argued so furiously (who would test the prince's power first? who deserved the honor of "training" him?) that they failed to notice the garden was slowly transforming—stone lions turning to real ones, a fountain flowing sideways—as the boy blinked and quietly whispered, "Update…interface…garden: more fun."
King Alden and Queen Mira cringed. The Empire's strongest, all under one roof, and not one of them aware that their greatest threat—and biggest punchline—was about to show them all the meaning of true authority.
And, as Emperor Magnus presented Caelum with a glowing orb ("a test of power!"), the boy simply tilted his head and said, "Undo."
The orb vanished. The Emperor's mustache turned purple. The Eight gaped in shocked silence.
Thus began the reign—and comedic chaos—of the Admin Prince.