"Some crowns are not offered — they are taken, or refused with fire."
The Imperial Hall shimmered beneath chandeliers of crystal flame. Gold banners draped from the marble pillars, each bearing the crest of a noble house. The air was heavy with perfume and politics — the scent of pride, envy, and fear.
Every noble, general, and scholar of the Empire had gathered to witness the closing of the Grand Tournament — and the crowning of its victor.
Lucian Ardelion stood at the center of it all.
The young heir, once scorned and forgotten, now stood straight-backed in formal black. His coat shimmered faintly with the academy's insignia; his sword, polished and unblooded for the ceremony, hung at his hip. But his eyes — those silver eyes — burned too cold for celebration.
He felt every stare. Admiration. Hatred. Fear.
At the far end of the hall, beneath the golden throne, the Crown Prince watched him. His expression was perfect — calm, princely, and false.
Between them lay a crimson carpet, a hundred steps long, guarded by silver-armored knights.
The herald's voice echoed:
"Lucian Ardelion, heir of House Ardelion, victor of the Grand Tournament, Slayer of the Alchemic Champion, the Crownless Wolf of the Academy—approach!"
The title — Crownless Wolf — had begun as mockery. Now it was spoken with awe.
Lucian walked the length of the hall, his steps echoing through the silence. Every noble turned their eyes. Some bowed slightly; others glared. He ignored them all.
The prince rose as Lucian reached the dais.
"Lucian Ardelion," he said, his voice smooth and sonorous, echoing through the vaulted ceiling. "You have proven yourself unmatched among your peers. Your strength, your intellect, your… persistence, have brought you here — before the throne."
He paused.
A servant stepped forward, carrying a cushion upon which lay a small circlet — silver, not gold.
A lesser crown.
"You stand here as one who has no crown," the prince continued. "But today, I offer you one — not by birthright, but by merit."
The hall murmured. To be acknowledged by the prince was a political storm. Nobles whispered, eyes wide.
Lucian looked down at the circlet — beautiful, cold, meaningless.
A smile ghosted his lips. "An honor, Your Highness," he said softly.
The prince smiled in return. "Then kneel, Lucian Ardelion, and receive the Empire's grace."
The hall went still.
For a moment, Lucian did not move.
Then — slowly — he raised his head. His silver eyes met the prince's golden ones, unflinching.
"No."
The word fell like a blade.
The murmurs turned to gasps. The hall trembled with disbelief.
The prince's smile faltered. "...No?"
Lucian stepped forward, every movement deliberate. His voice carried, cold and clear:
"I knelt once before power and called it destiny. I was rewarded with betrayal and death. I will not kneel again — not for a crown I did not take with my own hands."
Silence.
The nobles stared, petrified. The knights shifted uneasily.
The prince's tone hardened. "You refuse the Empire's recognition? You refuse me?"
Lucian's smile sharpened. "I refuse pity disguised as favor. I refuse chains dressed as crowns."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Somewhere in the balcony, the Masked Teacher chuckled softly beneath his hood. He's doing it, he thought. He's burning the bridge before they even try to cross it.
The prince took a step forward, fury flickering behind his perfect mask. "You dare defy me here, before my court?"
Lucian's voice rose, not in rage, but in conviction — the voice of one who had died once and no longer feared death.
"I dare, because I remember. I dare, because I have seen what crowns do to those who wear them. You call me Crownless — and I accept it gladly. For I have no need for your throne. I will carve my own."
The words echoed like thunder.
The prince's hand twitched at his side — toward the hilt of his ceremonial sword. The knights tensed.
Lucian met his gaze unflinching.
"If you wish to test your grace," he said quietly, "I'm right here."
For a heartbeat, the prince's fury burned bright. Then, with visible restraint, he forced a smile. "You speak boldly for one so young."
"I speak truth for one twice reborn," Lucian answered.
And with that, he turned his back on the prince — before the entire court — and began to walk away.
The Hall Erupts
The nobles broke into chaos.
Whispers became shouts. "He defied the crown!" — "He's mad!" — "No… he's dangerous."
Some stared in terror. Others — the younger nobles, the common-born officers — looked at Lucian with something else: awe.
He reached the great doors of the hall, the red carpet behind him like a trail of spilled blood. A knight moved to block his path, uncertain, but Lucian's gaze alone stopped him.
"Move," he said simply.
And the knight obeyed.
As Lucian passed beneath the golden archway, the sunlight spilled over him — and for a fleeting instant, the entire hall saw it: the gleam of something like a crown of light above his head.
Not gold. Not silver. Not real. But undeniable.
The Crownless Wolf had become the King of Defiance.
Hours later, the Empire was already aflame with rumor.
Some claimed Lucian had renounced the throne out of madness. Others whispered that the gods themselves refused to let him kneel. But one truth spread faster than any lie — the prince's humiliation.
In the palace's private chambers, the prince stood before a shattered mirror, breathing hard. His hand trembled where it had struck the glass.
"Find him," he hissed. "Watch him. Every move. Every whisper. I don't care if it takes years — I will know what he wants."
The chamberlain bowed, fearful. "Yes, Your Highness."
As the door closed, the prince looked out across the city lights. "Lucian Ardelion…" he murmured. "If you will not serve, then you will burn."
The Wolf's Oath
Meanwhile, high above the capital, Lucian stood on the balcony of his rented tower room, the city's golden glow stretching beneath him like a sea of embers.
He had refused the crown. He had refused the throne. And yet — he had never felt more powerful.
He could still hear the gasps, the silence, the fury in the prince's eyes.
He smiled faintly.
"Once, I died smiling before the blade," he whispered to the wind. "Today, I live smiling before the throne."
A gust swept through the city. The moon broke through the clouds, silver light bathing his figure.
Behind him, a messenger bird landed on the railing — sealed with the crest of the Masked Teacher.
He opened it.
'The Academy has changed. The wolves are restless. The next game begins.'
Lucian chuckled, rolling the parchment between his fingers.
"Then let them hunt," he said softly. "The wolf is awake."
As he turned away, the faint reflection of the shattered chandelier light above caught his hair — and for a heartbeat, it looked as though he wore a crown made of flame and shadow both.
No title. No throne. No master.
Only Lucian Ardelion — the Crownless Wolf.