The square didn't dissolve into chaos.

It fractured.

Voices rose everywhere at once, questions, speculation, arguments—but before momentum could turn into disorder, guards moved in formations, redirecting the crowd.

"This way," Amelia said, already moving.

She didn't raise her voice.

Ryn fell into step beside her as she cut through the thinning edge of the crowd, Maria and Jay close behind. The city around them was shifting fast, almost like everything had been prepared for this one moment.

No one was waiting.

They'd planned for this.

Amelia pulled something from her pocket, a small stone that was now glowing.

Her expression tightened.

"The Crown Princess is calling an emergency meeting," she said quietly. "All houses within the Gremory Kingdom was told to attend."

Ryn glanced sideways. "That was fast."

Her lips pressed together. "It had to be."

They turned onto a broader avenue where guards had already formed lanes, directing select individuals toward a fortified complex near the inner districts.

As they turned into the main street, Ryn saw it.

A wide red carpet had been laid out down the avenue's center. One by one, carriages rolled into view—sleek, ornate, and unmistakably foreign.

Gold trimmed in deep yellow. Emerald greens etched into living wood.

Heavy browns worked into stone and iron. And streaks of blue that shimmered faintly, as if they weren't entirely solid.

Ryn's steps slowed.

Every major race.

Every ruling power.

They weren't arriving to watch.

They were arriving because this concerned them.

Within minutes, names were called and routes assigned. The avenue filled with motion, the red carpet disappearing beneath a procession of crests and colors.

The rest blurred together.

In a few moments, Ryn had accompanied Amelia to the inner complex of the city. They were escorted through a series of corridors until they reached a room marked with the crest of Gremory, the kingdom both Grandal and Arctis resided in.

The doors opened.

Inside, chaos greeted them.

Sharp voices overlapped as nobles clustered in tight knots. Faces were tense, stripped of ceremony, and composure cracked under uncertainty.

No one knew what was happening.

That much was obvious.

Amelia took it in with a single glance, posture straightening as she stepped fully inside. Ryn followed, eyes already scanning for the center of gravity in the room.

He found it.

Crown Princess Taylor Gremory stood near the chamber's center, sleeves rolled back slightly, her expression focused rather than distressed.

She was listening.

One noble spoke rapidly at her side. Another interrupted, a third tried to press forward—

Taylor raised a hand.

The room quieted by instinct.

"Duchess Grandal," she said, nodding once. "You arrived quickly."

"We came as soon as the summons was issued," Amelia replied.

Taylor's eyes flicked to Ryn then, sharp and curious.

"And you must be Ryn Arctis," she said. Not a question.

Ryn inclined his head. "Your Highness."

A voice cut through the lingering murmur.

"Why is he here?"

The question wasn't shouted, but it carried the point across. A noble near the chamber's edge had turned openly toward Ryn, expression pinched with irritation.

"This meeting was called for heirs, heads of house, and faction representatives," the man continued.

"Not… auxiliary members."

A few heads turned. More followed.

Ryn didn't react. He kept his posture loose, expression mild, already familiar with the role.

Amelia's gaze hardened—but before she could speak, Taylor raised a hand again.

"That's enough," the Crown Princess said.

Her eyes didn't leave the noble as she continued, voice calm but edged with authority.

"Rio Arctis is currently overseeing security operations across the city," she said.

"Which means House Arctis is already represented—just not in this room."

She shifted her gaze, finally looking directly at Ryn.

"So his presence here is appropriate."

The noble frowned.

"On what grounds?"

Taylor smiled faintly.

"On mine."

The noble's expression instantly shifted as he retreated back.

Ryn exhaled slowly.

The Crown Princess—often called the Jewel of Gremory. Not just for her beauty, but for a Blessing that made lies difficult and uncertainty impossible to hide.

Ryn knew what she could do.

In his previous life, her Blessing had been spoken of only in fragments. An insight that let her perceive Essence. A power strong enough to judge potential without ever drawing a blade.

And yet—

Back then, she'd stayed away from moments like this.

She'd been careful.

So why now?

Taylor's gaze lingered on him, not with hostility, but more like assessing his worth.

A faint, almost imperceptible pressure, like standing near a deep current without being pulled into it. He kept his expression neutral, instincts screaming at him not to react.

Taylor looked away first.

"Good," she said to the room. "Then we can proceed without wasting time."

With the objection silenced, the room tried to settle.

It didn't succeed.

Nobles spoke in low, urgent tones, but one thing was clear. No one had any details on the event.

The Hero's Path. Just a name. And yet, it sent everyone scrambling.

Ryn stayed quiet, letting the noise wash past him. This wasn't a discussion yet. It was a scramble to establish footing before the rules arrived.

Taylor moved again, drawing attention without raising her voice.

"Regardless of what we don't know," the Crown Princess said calmly, "one thing is clear."

The room stilled.

"This Path will produce a Hero," she continued. "And wherever that Hero stands, power will follow."

No one argued that.

"A Hero tied to our Empire," Taylor said, eyes sweeping the chamber, "is not just a symbol. It is leverage.

Taylor let the weight of her words settle before continuing.

"Which is why," she said calmly, "we are already behind."

That drew reactions.

A few nobles stiffened. Others frowned outright.

"We are the last major power to be discussing whether to act," Taylor continued. "Every other faction represented here has already made their decision."

Taylor's gaze hardened slightly.

"Dheam, Khaz, Ygg, Aeralis, and even Raias have declared participation."

That answer alone unsettled the room.

"Which leaves us," Taylor finished, "as the only power present without a designated Hero Candidate."

The silence stretched.

Long enough that Ryn knew if he didn't speak now, he wouldn't get another opening.

He exhaled quietly.

"Then… may I ask something?"

Heads turned. Some curious, others irritated.

Taylor's gaze shifted to him at once. "Go on."

Ryn kept his tone measured, unassuming.

"You mentioned that the other factions have already named candidates," he said. "Do we know who they are?"

One noble scoffed softly. "Information like that isn't usually shared."

"Not usually," Ryn agreed. "But this situation isn't usual."

Taylor studied him for a moment longer than before.

Then she nodded once.

"Very well," she said.

She gestured, and an aide stepped forward, smaller projector in hand.

"Dheam," the Crown Princess said. "The Beast Kingdom has chosen first."

The image resolved into a massive, broad-shouldered figure, scars carved openly into his frame, ritual bindings wrapped around his arms.

"Kharvos."

"He is not their most politically connected," Taylor said. "Nor their most refined."

A pause.

"He is Bloodmane. The one who contributed most during the last Human–Beast War."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber.

"He is estimated to be at the Low-Peak Essence Rank."

Murmurs rippled through the room—approval from some, caution from others.

"The dwarven capital, Khaz Vordun," Taylor continued, "took a different approach."

The projection shifted.

A shorter figure appeared, dense with presence, layered in work-worn forge attire rather than armor. Runes glowed faintly along his gloves and tools.

"Braum Aegis."

"Their greatest living craftsman," Taylor said. "Not a warrior by trade, but their tactic is likely to earn trust through infrastructure and long-term influence. He's confirmed to be in the Low-Master Essence Rank."

A few nobles scoffed at the idea, but Ryn paid attention. It was a real strategy based on the rules given so far.

"The Elven city of Yggdrasil," Taylor said next, her tone sharpening slightly, "have named their candidate as well."

The image changed again. A slender, composed woman layered in a natural-looking cloak that flowed like living script.

"Lunara-Freya."

"Their foremost mage," Taylor said. "Chosen not for combat prowess, but for mastery. She's predicted to be around High-Master Essence Rank."

Silence followed.

That one landed hard.

"And the spirits?" someone asked quietly.

Taylor exhaled.

"They have confirmed participation," she said. "Yet no information has surfaced."

A chill crept down Ryn's spine.

One name still hadn't been said.

"And Raias?" Ryn asked, voice calm despite the tension coiling in his chest. "Who did they choose?"

The projector flickered again, this time to a blonde man in his early thirties.

"Aurelian Voss," Taylor said. "Paladin of Rhea. One of the Church's strongest active assets."

Her eyes flicked to the slate.

"He is confirmed to be High-Master Essence Rank."

The room shifted.

Ryn didn't move.

In his previous life, there had never been any doubt.

Fritz Calder had been the obvious choice. His achievements alone had made the Hero's Ceremony feel like a formality. Everyone had known it would be him.

Which was why this felt wrong.

This wasn't a shift in preference.

It wasn't a recalculation.

It was an absence.

Ryn's thoughts sharpened.

"What about Fritz Calder?" he blurted out.

A pause.

The Crown Princess stared at him.

"…Who's that?"

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