The battlefield lay in ruins. Twisted earth, shattered banners, and the distant groans of wounded soldiers filled the air. Rocky stumbled through the wreckage, exhaustion weighing on him like a mountain. His heart still throbbed from the clash with Sylvia, the knight who had single-handedly halted his Gravitational Force Dragon. Every nerve in his body screamed for rest, yet there was no time to linger.
Imperial guards approached, weapons drawn, but their demeanor was… strange. They did not strike. They did not seize him roughly. Instead, they bowed low, as if acknowledging not a prisoner, but a king.
"Welcome, Legendary Summoner," one officer said, his voice calm and reverent. "The Emperor requests your presence."
Rocky's brow furrowed. Presence? Not chains or death? Suspicion coiled in his chest, sharp and unyielding. "And why would the Emperor want me alive?" he asked, voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through him.
The officer's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Because, Summoner, your power is unmatched. Your very presence could change the fate of this Empire. You are not merely a prisoner—you are… an honored guest."
They guided him through the heart of the Empire, and Rocky's eyes widened at the opulence around him. Marble floors stretched endlessly beneath golden chandeliers. Tapestries depicted imperial victories and legendary figures, each one more elaborate than the last. Servants hurried past, bowing as they carried trays of food, fine fabrics, and ornate jewelry. Rocky felt out of place in the gilded halls; the contrast between the battlefield's chaos and the Empire's lavish serenity was dizzying.
Finally, he arrived at a private suite, far larger and more luxurious than any room he had ever seen. A massive bed with silken sheets, a window overlooking the imperial gardens, and a writing desk carved from rare dark wood—everything screamed comfort, wealth, and careful attention.
"You treat me like… royalty?" Rocky asked, suspicion thick in his tone. "I fought your soldiers, and yet you give me… this?"
The officer inclined his head. "Because you are the key, Summoner. The Emperor believes your abilities can secure dominion over these lands… and perhaps, bring harmony to our fractured world. You are celebrated, not punished."
Rocky's stomach twisted. Honor or trap? Reward or manipulation? The line was razor-thin. He couldn't ignore the truth: anyone who could stop a Gravitational Force Dragon with a single strike held more power than most kings. He had seen it in Sylvia's eyes—confidence, strength, and an unshakable sense of purpose.
He wandered the suite, eyes lingering on the window. Outside, the Empire's city stretched across the valley, its walls gleaming in the afternoon sun. Soldiers moved in perfect formation, banners fluttering in the breeze. Rocky felt a pang of unease. From here, it looked calm. Ordered. Controlled. But he knew better—he had faced the chaos of war firsthand. He had seen how even the smallest spark could ignite disaster.
A knock at the door made him jump. A servant entered, carrying a tray of food. "A meal, Summoner," she said softly, bowing. "And instructions from the Emperor: enjoy your stay. You may rest before your audience tomorrow."
Rocky took the food but did not eat. His mind was restless, racing with thoughts of Sylvia. The battlefield had shown him her strength, but it had also revealed something more: her heart. She had come for him, but she had hesitated. She had protected him even as an enemy.
He sank into the plush chair by the window, gazing at the city below. What is the Empire's endgame? he wondered. Do they want to recruit me… or control me? He had been treated like royalty, but the golden cage was still a cage.
Night fell, and with it came the quiet hum of the city. Rocky could hear the distant sounds of soldiers patrolling, the echo of drums from a training yard, and faint whispers of courtiers moving through the halls. Alone in the suite, he allowed himself a rare moment of reflection.
Memories of Sylvia flooded his mind—her smile, her piercing eyes, the single sword dash that had stopped his dragon. He felt a strange mixture of longing and fear. She's out there somewhere, in the midst of the Empire… leading the army, perhaps searching for me again.
But one thought remained crystal clear: he would not be broken, and he would not lose his heart. He would survive the Empire, navigate their games, and—if fate allowed it—see Sylvia again.
The moon rose over the imperial city, casting silver light through the window. Rocky's gaze hardened. The war was far from over, and neither was the pull of the woman he loved.
Tomorrow, he would meet the Emperor. Tomorrow, his fate—and the fate of the Empire—would begin to intertwine with his own.