The room remained sealed.
Heavy doors.
Layered wards.
No sound escaping.
No one entering.
Only the king… and the truth.
Takemi stared at the handle in his hand.
Then at the king.
"…I need to ask."
King Aldric Vaelthorne nodded once.
"…Then ask."
Takemi exhaled slowly.
"…What exactly is this thing?"
He lifted the handle slightly.
"…Not just the history. I mean—what is it really?"
Silence lingered for a moment.
Not hesitation.
But consideration.
The king stepped closer.
"…That weapon is known as a Manifest Armament."
Lira's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Manifest… meaning it's created from mana?"
The king shook his head.
"…No."
"…That would make it common."
He looked at Takemi.
"…This is something else entirely."
A pause.
"…It is a weapon born from will."
Rauk frowned.
"…That sounds vague."
"It is," the king replied calmly.
"…Because even in recorded history, it was never fully understood."
He continued—
"…Aetherion Kael did not forge that weapon in a traditional sense."
"…He created the foundation of it."
Takemi blinked.
"…Foundation?"
The king nodded.
"…What you are holding is not the weapon."
"…It is the core."
Takemi looked down at it again.
"…So the blade… the forms…"
"…Are extensions of your intent," the king said.
"…Shaped by your understanding, your experience… and your limits."
Lira spoke softly.
"…So if he grows…"
"…The weapon evolves with him," the king finished.
Silence.
Takemi let out a small breath.
"…That explains why it feels different every time."
The king didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked slowly toward the large painted wall behind the throne.
The mural of battles.
Of history.
Of a lone figure standing against something vast.
"…Because," the king said quietly,
"…those were the weapons he needed."
Silence.
Takemi frowned.
"…That's it?"
The king turned back.
"…Power is not defined by how much you can create."
"…But by what you can use when it matters."
Lira's expression softened slightly.
"…So those five were enough."
"…No," the king corrected.
"…Those five were necessary."
The king didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked slowly toward the large painted wall behind the throne.
The mural of battles.
Of history.
Of a lone figure standing against something vast.
"…Because," the king said quietly,
"…those were the weapons he needed."
Silence.
Takemi frowned.
"…That's it?"
The king turned back.
"…Power is not defined by how much you can create."
"…But by what you can use when it matters."
Lira's expression softened slightly.
"…So those five were enough."
"…No," the king corrected.
"…Those five were necessary."
Lira tilted her head slightly.
"…You said it wasn't forged traditionally."
"…But you also said it was created."
The king nodded.
"…Yes."
"…And that is where the story becomes… incomplete."
Takemi looked up.
"…Meaning?"
"…Aetherion Kael did not create it alone."
That changed everything.
"…Wait—what?"
"There was another," the king said.
"…A blacksmith."
The room grew quieter.
"…Not a royal artisan."
"…Not a guild craftsman."
"…But someone whose name was removed from history."
Rauk frowned.
"…Removed?"
"…Deliberately," the king replied.
"…Because what they created was not meant to be replicated."
Takemi's eyes sharpened.
"…So this thing…"
"…Was both manifested…"
"…And forged," the king confirmed.
The king stepped closer.
His voice lower now.
"…If you wish to master that weapon…"
"…You must find the one who understands its origin."
Takemi's expression tightened slightly.
"…The blacksmith."
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…Or what remains of them."
That didn't sound reassuring.
The king turned, walking back toward the throne—but he did not sit.
"…What you encountered is beyond the scope of the academy."
"…And beyond the authority of most factions."
He looked at all three of them now.
"…Which is why I will take responsibility."
Rauk raised a brow.
"…Meaning?"
"…You will operate under royal oversight."
Takemi sighed.
"…Knew it wouldn't be simple."
"…You will not act alone," the king continued.
"…Because history has already proven what happens when one carries everything."
His gaze lingered on Takemi.
"…You will build a team."
Takemi nodded slightly.
"…Yeah… I was already thinking that."
Lira crossed her arms lightly.
"…Then define the roles properly."
Rauk smirked.
"…Finally, something I'm good at."
"…You will not act alone," the king continued.
"…Because history has already proven what happens when one carries everything."
His gaze lingered on Takemi.
"…You will build a team."
Takemi nodded slightly.
"…Yeah… I was already thinking that."
Lira crossed her arms lightly.
"…Then define the roles properly."
Rauk smirked.
"…Finally, something I'm good at."
"But it is incomplete," the king added.
"…You will need at least five."
Takemi nodded.
"…Yeah."
Then paused.
"…We're missing support."
Lira immediately understood.
"…A healer."
Rauk sighed.
"…Yeah… we definitely need one after what just happened."
"But it is incomplete," the king added.
"…You will need at least five."
Takemi nodded.
"…Yeah."
Then paused.
"…We're missing support."
Lira immediately understood.
"…A healer."
Rauk sighed.
"…Yeah… we definitely need one after what just happened."
The king turned slightly toward one of his advisors.
"…There is a candidate."
The cloaked woman stepped forward.
"…A trainee from the eastern district."
"…Transferred recently to the academy."
Lira narrowed her eyes.
"…Eastern district…"
"…Temple lineage," the woman clarified.
That changed the tone.
Rauk raised a brow.
"…A cleric?"
The woman nodded.
"…Highly disciplined."
"…But…"
Takemi tilted his head.
"…But?"
"…She has refused every team invitation so far."
Takemi smirked slightly.
"…Then we'll just have to ask properly."
Lira sighed softly.
"…You say that like it's easy."
Rauk chuckled.
"…Yeah, good luck with that."
The king watched them.
Silent.
But there was something in his gaze—
Expectation.
As they stepped out of the sealed room—
The world outside felt the same.
But it wasn't.
Not anymore.
Somewhere in the academy—
A girl knelt quietly in prayer.
Unaware—
That her path was about to change.