บท 3: It's Time
10:00am
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**Dressed in a Robe of Gold**
Eckert emerged from his chambers, now dressed in a robe of pure gold that shimmered with an ethereal light. The fabric, woven with threads of the finest golden silk, seemed to capture the sunlight itself, reflecting it in a dazzling array of hues. Intricate patterns of mythical beasts and ancient symbols adorned the robe, their forms almost seeming to come alive with each step he took. A soft, golden glow surrounded him, enhancing his already regal presence. His shoulders were draped with a cape that flowed behind him like liquid gold, trailing the ground as he walked. His boots, made from the hide of a rare golden dragon, completed his attire, each step echoing with the weight of his royal lineage.
As he made his way towards the royal palace, the massive structure loomed in the distance, its towers piercing the sky. The palace itself was a marvel of architecture, its walls covered in sheets of gold, reflecting the sunlight like a beacon visible from miles away. Each tower was topped with domes encrusted with precious gemstones, their colors shifting as the light hit them from different angles. The main gate, a colossal structure made of pure gold and adorned with carvings of legendary battles and mythical creatures, opened with a low groan as Eckert approached, its massive doors slowly parting to allow him entry.
Upon entering, the sound of a horn filled the air—a deep, resonant note that echoed through the vast halls of the palace.
"The royal prince is entering! Bow!" a loud voice commanded, its tone authoritative and impossible to ignore.
Eckert entered the royal chamber, a room fit for the gods. The chamber was enormous, with walls lined with gold and adorned with elaborate frescoes depicting the kingdom's most glorious moments. Massive pillars, each carved from a single block of marble and wrapped in gold leaf, supported the ceiling, which was painted with images of the heavens. The floor was a mosaic of gold tiles, each piece meticulously placed to form a grand pattern that radiated from the center of the room. Chandeliers made from the finest crystals hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden light that bathed the entire chamber in a divine glow.
As Eckert walked down the aisle, the nobles, already bowing in respect, felt his presence as he passed them. His walk was measured and regal, each step taken with the grace and confidence befitting a prince. He reached his seat—an ornate throne crafted from solid gold, its backrest adorned with carvings of the four heroes who once saved Etha. The armrests were shaped like roaring lion heads, their eyes set with rubies that glowed with an inner fire. Eckert seated himself with a practiced elegance, his gaze sweeping across the chamber, acknowledging the presence of the assembled nobles.
The room fell silent as the sound of the loudest horn yet filled the air, its deep, resonant note echoing across the entire kingdom. The sheer power of the sound seemed to shake the very walls of the palace, and outside, every living being within the kingdom of Bilbord bowed their heads in reverence.
"King Arthritis Van Bilbord the Third (III) is making his entrance to the royal chamber!" a herald announced, his voice carrying the weight of tradition and ceremony.
The nobles, who had been seated, rose in perfect unison, their movements synchronized as if they were one entity. They bowed deeply, their bodies forming a perfect 90-degree angle as they showed their respect to their king.
King Arthritis entered the chamber with a presence that could not be ignored. His walk was the very definition of royalty, more perfect and more commanding than that of his son. His robe, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, was a deep crimson embroidered with gold thread, depicting scenes of his greatest victories in battle. A crown of gold rested upon his head, encrusted with the finest jewels from across Etha, each gemstone representing a kingdom he had conquered. His eyes, sharp and piercing, surveyed the room as he made his way to the largest throne—a massive seat crafted from gold and encrusted with diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds. The backrest of the throne towered above him, depicting a grand scene of him standing victorious over his enemies.
As he sat down, his voice boomed across the chamber. "Sit," he commanded, his tone serious and unyielding.
The room, filled with the most powerful individuals in the kingdom, instantly obeyed, their earlier confidence now replaced with solemnity. The contrast was stark—this was the same man who had been foolishly bathing with his son just moments ago, but now, he was the king, the ruler of Bilbord, and every soul in the room felt the weight of his authority.
The chief-commander, a man built like a fortress, with muscles that strained against his armor, stood up. His body was a testament to years of hard battles, his presence commanding respect even in the king's presence. "Your Highness," he began, his voice deep and resonant, "I believe it is time we take Eckert to the battlefield. He is more than ready to start proving himself as a man of war."
The room was silent, all eyes on the king as he considered the commander's words. King Arthritis nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I think so," he agreed, his tone measured. The weight of his words signaled the beginning of a new chapter for Eckert.
With that, the royal meeting commenced, discussions ranging from matters of state to strategies for the upcoming battles.
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**Well, Nobody Cares**
As the meeting progressed, Eckert's thoughts drifted. The words of the commander echoed in his mind, and a grim smile played on his lips.
Well, nobody cares about me being injured on the battlefield.
Why?
You'll see for yourself soon enough.
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**The Awakening**
In the kingdom of Bilbord, every child must go through a rite of passage known as the Awakening. This is no ordinary ceremony; it is the moment when a child steps into the world of warriors, where they must prove themselves worthy of the bloodline they belong to.
The Awakening takes place at the Awakening Altar, a sacred place of immense power. The altar is a grand structure carved from ancient stone, surrounded by statues of the four heroes who once saved Etha. The air around it is thick with the essence of the gods, and it is said that those who stand before the altar can feel the very pulse of the planet itself.
At the altar, each child receives their battle power, a gift from the gods that will define their path as a warrior. The power is a blessing from one of the four heroes or gods of battle, and it is this blessing that will determine the child's potential in the world.
Upon receiving this power, the child breaks their shackles, unlocking the ability to use Aura—a powerful force that enhances their strength, speed, and senses. Aura is not just a tool; it is a transformation, one that tempers the body and mind, preparing the warrior for the battles to come. This process is grueling, but it is a rite that every warrior must undergo, regardless of their talent.
In the world of Etha, talent means little. Hard work is everything. Whether a prince, a noble, or a commoner, every child begins their journey at the same starting line. What differentiates them is not talent but resources—the wealth and connections that separate the nobles from the commoners.
At the Awakening, each child takes an oath—a solemn promise to never betray humanity and to dedicate their lives to the prosperity of their people. This oath is a binding contract, one that the four heroes themselves decreed long ago after their final battle.
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