"We will train harder, My Lord!" Sylas promised fiercely. "We will push ourselves to the absolute limit! We will defend the walls by ourselves!"
"It is not enough, Sylas," King Justin admitted sadly. "We need thirteen Grandmasters to maintain the magical grid. We need a full council. We do not have the time to train new recruits. It takes decades to build a Grandmaster. We are out of time. Our kingdom is ruined."
The King sounded completely hopeless. The men looked down at the floor. They believed their home was doomed.
Ken decided he had seen enough sadness for one day. He decided he needed to fix this problem immediately. He wanted to give them hope so they would stop crying. He wanted them to feel safe.
Lancelot took a slow, deliberate step forward.
His polished black boots clicked loudly against the marble floor. Click. Click. The sound drew the attention of every single man in the room. The King, the Prince, and the Grandmasters turned their heads. They looked at the masked entity.
Lancelot stood perfectly straight. He crossed his arms over his chest. The gold embroidery on his cloak shimmered in the sunlight coming through the broken windows. The single glowing purple eye burned with intense, unwavering certainty.
Lancelot radiated an aura of absolute, undeniable confidence.
"You are not ruined," Lancelot stated. His deep, echoing voice filled the vast throne room. The voice was incredibly powerful. It commanded total respect.
King Justin blinked. "Great Lancelot? We have lost more than half our strength. We cannot survive."
"You will survive," Lancelot declared firmly. "You lack protectors. You lack time. But you do not lack allies. You are looking at this problem with a very narrow vision. You think you have to rebuild your forces completely alone."
Grandmaster Kaelen leaned on his broken spear. He looked totally confused. "Who will help us? The other nations will just try to conquer us while we are weak."
Lancelot uncrossed his arms. He pointed a dark-gloved finger directly at the King.
"The Belmontia Empire will assist you," Lancelot announced with absolute authority.
The room went completely silent. The men stared at the shadow god in pure shock.
"The Belmontia Empire?" King Justin asked. His voice cracked with surprise. "But the Emperor is strict. The Empire focuses on the Succession War. They do not share their elite training secrets."
"I do not care about the Emperor's strict rules," Lancelot replied coldly. "I am the Sovereign. I make the final decisions regarding international security. I will not allow this kingdom to fall into chaos. I will not allow dark forces to exploit your massive loss."
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Ken fully committed to his grand promise. He knew exactly how he was going to fulfill this vow. He was not going to do the training himself. Training required physical effort. Teaching required standing up for hours. He refused to do that.
"I will simply delegate this entire project to the Empire's veteran instructors," Ken planned lazily in his mind. "The Belmontia military has plenty of experienced retired masters. They know all the ancient techniques. They love yelling at young students. It is a perfect match. I will just tell Iris to send the request to the training headquarters. I will stay on the couch and supervise from a distance. It is a flawless, totally efficient slacker strategy."
Lancelot lowered his hand. He looked at the grieving warriors. He delivered his final, unbreakable vow.
"I make this vow to you today," Lancelot proclaimed smoothly. The words echoed with god-like power. "The Belmontia Empire will send our absolute best instructors. We will share our resources. We will assist you in training your young knights. We will raise new Grandmasters to replace those you lost. We will rebuild your strength faster than you can possibly imagine."
Grandmaster Brandon dropped his rock-covered hands. He stared at Lancelot with wide, amazed eyes. "You would do that for us? You would share your elite knowledge?"
"I protect the balance of this world," Lancelot answered simply. "Your kingdom is a vital piece of that balance. You will not fall. You will rise stronger."
Tears of pure gratitude filled King Justin's eyes. The hopeless despair entirely vanished from his face. A bright spark of real, undeniable hope replaced it. The King bowed his head deeply to the masked god.
The surviving Grandmasters dropped to their knees again. They placed their hands over their hearts. They bowed to Lancelot. They felt a massive wave of immense relief. They knew their home was safe. They knew the legendary hero would keep his promise.
"Thank you, Great Lancelot," King Justin whispered respectfully. "We will gladly accept your assistance. We will prepare our young knights for the training."
Ken let out a miniature sigh of satisfaction inside his mask.
"Mission accomplished," Ken thought happily. "The non-playable characters are no longer crying. The kingdom is saved. The training arc is officially delegated to someone else. I am a tactical genius. Now, I am going to go home and eat a massive grilled cheese sandwich. Naomi better have saved me some extra cheese."
Lancelot did not say another word. He did not wait for more praise. He simply let his dark cloak swirl around his body. The shadows wrapped entirely around his tall figure.
In a flash of brilliant purple light, the masked entity completely vanished from the throne room.
He left behind a room full of hopeful, grateful warriors. The Bluemoon Kingdom was battered, but it was not broken. The future was secure. And the laziest boy in the world was finally heading home for a very long, very well-deserved nap.
---
Ken Eliot dragged his shoes across the wooden floorboards. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff. He held a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in his left hand. He held a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in his right hand. He wore his navy blue suit pants. His white dress shirt hung completely untucked over his belt. He did not wear a tie. His black hair stuck out in wild, messy spikes. He slouched his shoulders as far as they could possibly go.
He walked into the strategy room. He took a bite of his cookie. He chewed loudly. Crunch. Crunch.
The room was already full. The girls of the 13th Unit stood around the large wooden table. They looked completely ready for action. They wore their dark blue combat uniforms. They carried their weapons.
Olivia stood at the head of the table. The strict, highly disciplined spear user looked absolutely flawless. Her uniform did not have a single wrinkle. Her dark hair was pulled back into a perfect, tight bun. Her sharp dark eyes scanned the room. She held her silver-tipped spear firmly in her hand. She looked like a true, professional soldier.
Olivia saw Ken walk into the room. Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits. She frowned.
"You are late," Olivia stated coldly. Her voice was firm and commanding. "The morning briefing started exactly four minutes ago. Punctuality is the absolute foundation of a successful military unit. You cannot stroll into a command center while eating junk food."
Ken stopped walking. He blinked his sleepy dark eyes. He looked at Olivia. He swallowed his cookie.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter