Chapitre 2: The Golden Plate
A mountain of a man approached, his heavy armor clinking with each step. Only his face was exposed, a long scar running down his left cheek, making his already intimidating presence even more fearsome.
"C-Captain Arion! This beggar insulted us and injured Orion. Please, punish him!" one of the guards pleaded.
Arion, the Captain of the Western Wall, was known as one of the strongest protectors of Anthur. Few could claim to have bested him in combat.
Arion looked down at Mel, his expression fierce and unyielding. "I hope you have a valid reason for this, kid. If not, I'll take your head myself."
Mel pushed Orion aside, wiping the guard's blood from his hand. He met Arion's eyes without a trace of fear.
Arion's gaze sharpened. This boy wasn't an ordinary beggar; no one dared look at him like that. His imposing build was enough to intimidate most, but the real terror lay in his fighting aura—a thick, red mist of mana swirled around him.
"So, you're the Captain of this wall," Mel said, his voice cold. "Shouldn't you be the one explaining why your men lack basic manners? Or should I bring this up with the King?"
Silence fell, thick with disbelief.
Then, Arion's booming laughter broke the tension. "To think anyone would have the nerve to say something so outrageous in front of me. You've got guts, boy." He unsheathed his sword, the blade gleaming in the sunlight. "But now you've signed your own death warrant—"
Arion's words died in his throat. His eyes widened as he noticed what Mel was holding.
In Mel's hand was a golden plate engraved with the Gorya Royal Family's emblem: a two-headed golden dragon and their family name.
The crowd murmured in shock.
"That's the Royal golden plate! The one given only to heroes who achieve great deeds for the kingdom!"
"How can a beggar have one?! Did he steal it?"
"Impossible. Every plate has its owner's name engraved on the back. It must be his!"
The golden plate symbolized the Royal Family's honor; only they could bestow such a treasure. Disrespecting a plate holder was akin to disrespecting the King himself.
Mel's eyes glinted. "So... whose head do you think is going to roll next?"
Arion's hands trembled as the reality of his mistake set in. He never imagined that a ragged young man could possess a golden plate—let alone one from the Royal Family. It was also the first time he had seen one up close.
Sheathing his sword, Arion bowed deeply, pressing his right fist to his heart. "I apologize for the disrespect my men and I have shown you, my Lord. If I may ask humbly, please slit my throat and spare my subordinates. I would be forever grateful for your mercy."
The other guards, pale and trembling, followed suit, bowing low. Their legs shook as they pleaded for forgiveness.
Though Arion's face was hidden, Mel could sense his fear. The captain's aura wavered.
'This man… he takes responsibility for his men over himself,' Mel mused as he observed the captain. 'Someone like him will be needed soon.'
Mel let out a sigh. "Stand up. No one is dying today. I didn't return after eleven years to kill some guards who don't know their place."
The guards exhaled in relief.
"I thought he was going to kill us."
"Shut it! He might hear you and change his mind!"
Mel glanced back at the two guards who had tried to slash him earlier. "But remember, if you try that again, you'll end up like your friend."
The guards shivered, their eyes darting to Orion's mangled wrist.
Without another word, Mel strode through the gate, leaving the guards behind. As his figure vanished into the distance, the guards finally allowed themselves to breathe again.
"Orion, how's your hand? Let me see it!" The guards rushed to their injured comrade, whose face was ashen.
"H-He... he's not human..." Orion's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear.
"He's in shock. Take him to the camp's hospital," Captain Arion ordered.
"Captain, you have to believe me! He… he's terrifying!"
"Orion, don't speak. You need treatment first." One of the guards lifted Orion onto his shoulders.
"No! You don't understand! You didn't see his eyes when he crushed my hand! Those weren't the eyes of a human!"
"What are you talking about, Orion?" the other guard asked, worried.
"W-What I saw… was the soul of a monster."
Normally, the guards would laugh off such words, but they knew Orion too well. He would never make light of something like this. The terror in his eyes was unmistakable, as if he had seen death itself.
"Wait... he mentioned eleven years," Arion muttered, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Captain, what's on your mind?"
"A boy around fifteen, missing for eleven years, and holding a golden plate... Oh my God. It's him!" Arion's eyes widened in realization. He broke into a run, charging through the gate.
"Captain, where are you going?" the guards called out.
"Get Orion to the camp. I need to report this to the King himself!"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone