King Alaric Thorne's presence instantly shifted the dynamic in Arion's cluttered study. The air, thick with Valerius's bluster and Ken's chilling promise, now hummed with a different kind of tension – the weight of royal authority. Valerius, who had been red-faced and sputtering, paled visibly and bowed low, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Your Majesty! An unexpected… honor."
The King ignored him for a moment, his gaze, sharp as dragon glass, still fixed on Ken Ryugasaki. Ken, in turn, met that gaze unflinchingly, a faint, almost challenging smirk playing on his lips. He didn't bow. He didn't flinch. He just stood there, an unmovable object of foreign power.
"Final boss, you say?" King Alaric finally responded, a slight, almost imperceptible tremor of amusement in his deep voice. "An interesting assessment. Most find me rather… conclusive." He gestured vaguely towards the shattered Resonance Orb. "It seems you have a penchant for breaking things, Otherworlder. Valuables, expectations… perhaps even kingdoms, if you're not careful."
Ken shrugged, his muscular shoulders moving with fluid ease. "Only if they get in my way. Or if they're really, really annoying." He flicked a glance at Valerius, who bristled but dared not speak.
"Lord Valerius," the King said, his tone dropping the amusement and taking on an edge of steel. "Your… zeal is noted. However, Master Ken is currently under my purview. Perhaps you should attend to your other duties?" It was a dismissal, polite but absolute.
Valerius's face tightened, a flicker of resentment in his eyes, but he bowed again, lower this time. "As you command, Your Majesty." He shot one last venomous glare at Ken before practically scurrying from the room, his guards trailing awkwardly behind.
The young apprentice, Lyla, who had been frozen like a startled fawn, let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her eyes kept darting towards Ken, a mixture of fear and fascination in their mousy brown depths.
Once Valerius was gone, King Alaric turned fully to Ken. "Master Arion, Captain Vance, your reports, while… colorful, paint a picture of a man capable of feats we deem impossible. Dispatching a Direfang Alpha with no discernible magical aid. Dispersing seasoned bandits as if swatting flies. And now, apparently, shattering a Class Five Resonance Orb by mere touch."
Arion, practically vibrating with excitement, chimed in, "Indeed, Your Majesty! No mana signature! Zero! It's as if the very concept of magical energy is alien to his being, yet his physical output, his vital force – it's astronomical! The Orb couldn't even begin to process it; it simply overloaded and fractured under the sheer pressure of his… his existence!"
The King stroked his grey beard, his eyes thoughtful. "Fascinating. And dangerous. Tell me, Ken Ryugasaki of… 'Tokyo'… what brings you to Aeridor? And what are your intentions?"
Ken leaned against a sturdy, rune-etched bookshelf, which creaked ominously under his weight, making Arion wince. "Like I told the Captain, it wasn't exactly a planned vacation. One minute, I'm winning a championship, next minute, a light show from hell, and I'm face-planting in your woods. Intentions? Right now, figure out where 'here' is, how I got here, and if there's a decent steakhouse nearby. After that, we'll see. I'm adaptable."
His casual, almost irreverent tone seemed to bounce off the King's regal composure. Alaric studied him for a long moment. "You understand, of course, that your presence, your abilities, are a significant… anomaly. Anomalies can be disruptive. They can be perceived as threats."
"Threats usually get dealt with," Ken stated, his voice level, but with an underlying current that made the hairs on Elara's arms stand up. "I'm very good at dealing with threats."
A heavy silence descended. The King's expression was unreadable. Elara could feel her heart pounding. This was a razor's edge. One wrong word, one misstep…
Then, the King surprised them all. A slow smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I believe you are, Master Ken. Which is precisely why I find myself in a… unique position." He paused. "There are those in my court, like Lord Valerius, who will scream for your imprisonment, your dissection, or your immediate banishment. They fear what they do not understand."
"Fear is a great motivator," Ken observed. "Usually for doing stupid things."
"Indeed," the King agreed. "However, I see… potential. Aeridor faces many challenges. Enemies without, and sometimes, troubles within. A man of your… singular talents… could be a powerful asset. Or an unimaginable catastrophe."
Before Ken could respond, the heavy doors to Arion's study burst open again. This time, it wasn't Valerius. It was a knight, even larger and more imposing than the ceremonial guards, his armor a burnished, gunmetal grey, intricately engraved with symbols of fortitude. He carried no shield, but a massive, two-handed greatsword was strapped to his back. His face was grim, battle-scarred, and his eyes, like chips of flint, were fixed on Ken.
"Your Majesty!" the knight boomed, his voice like rocks grinding together. He knelt, a metallic clang echoing through the room. "Forgive my intrusion. Lord Valerius informed me of a potential high-level threat to your person within these very chambers. I came at once." He rose, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his greatsword. "Sir Gideon, Commander of the Royal Vanguard, at your service. Shall I… neutralize the threat, sire?" His gaze on Ken was one of pure, professional lethality.
Ken's smirk widened. "Neutralize? Sounds kinky. You sure you're up for it, tin man?"
Sir Gideon's eyes narrowed. "I have felled Orc Warlords and Frost Giants, stranger. A mouthy vagrant will pose little challenge."
King Alaric raised a hand. "Peace, Sir Gideon. Your loyalty is, as always, commendable. However, Lord Valerius was… overzealous. Master Ken is my guest." He then looked from Gideon to Ken, a calculating glint in his eye. "Though… perhaps a small demonstration would be in order. To satisfy concerns. And, frankly, my own curiosity."
Elara's breath caught. Arion leaned forward, his spectacles nearly falling off. Lyla clutched her scrolls to her chest, eyes wide.
"A demonstration?" Ken pushed himself off the bookshelf, his body thrumming with barely contained energy. "You mean a fight? Finally, someone speaks my language."
The King nodded. "Sir Gideon is considered the strongest warrior in Aeridor. His armor is blessed by the Arch-Priestess, his blade forged in dragon's breath, capable of cleaving through stone. A brief spar, if you will. No lethal intent, of course."
Gideon drew his massive greatsword. The blade, nearly as tall as Lyla, hummed with latent magical energy, its edges glowing faintly. "I will endeavor to be gentle, stranger. Though my 'gentle' has broken lesser men."
Ken just grinned, a feral, exhilarating light in his eyes. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't need one. He simply spread his feet slightly, his hands loose at his sides. "Don't strain yourself on my account, big guy. Wouldn't want you to pull a… well, anything."
The study was large, but with the bookshelves, it was still cramped for a true battle. Gideon, however, was all business. With a roar that shook the very foundations of the tower, he charged. For a man his size, in that armor, he moved with astonishing speed, the dragon-forged greatsword scything through the air in a whistling arc aimed to cleave Ken in two. The magical enchantments on the blade flared, leaving a trail of incandescent energy.
Elara tensed, her hand gripping her sword hilt so tight her knuckles were white. Arion gasped, clutching his chest.
Ken didn't move.
He watched the impossibly fast, undeniably lethal blow approach with an air of almost bored observation. Then, at the very last microsecond, as the glowing edge was inches from his neck, his right hand shot up.
Not to block. Not to parry.
He caught the greatsword.
His bare fingers closed around the thick, magically imbued steel, inches from the razor edge.
KRRR-SHING! SCREEECH!
The sound was horrifying. The enchantments on the blade sputtered, flared violently, and then died, like a snuffed candle. The glow vanished. Gideon's unstoppable charge came to an abrupt, jarring halt, his eyes wide with disbelief. He felt as if he'd crashed into a mountain.
"Nice sword," Ken commented, his voice calm. His fingers were still wrapped around the blade. "A little flimsy, though."
And then, with a casual tightening of his grip, a series of sickening cracks echoed through the room. Spiderweb fissures raced across the surface of the dragon-forged steel.
CRRRRACK-SHATTER!
Sir Gideon's legendary greatsword, the pride of Aeridor's armory, disintegrated in Ken's hand. Shards of what was once a priceless artifact rained onto the stone floor, clattering uselessly.
Gideon stared at the now empty hilt in his hands, then at Ken, his jaw slack with utter shock. The room was plunged into a stunned, breathless silence. Even the King looked momentarily taken aback.
"Wha… How…?" Gideon stammered, his voice a hoarse whisper. "My blade… it's… it's indestructible!"
Ken flexed his fingers, brushing off microscopic shards of metal. "Everything breaks, big guy. Just gotta know where to squeeze." He then took a single, leisurely step forward. His hand, moving almost too fast to see, shot out and tapped Gideon lightly on his breastplate.
It looked like a friendly pat.
BOOM!
A dull, resonant thud echoed, not from the impact, but from within Gideon's armor. The blessed breastplate, reputed to withstand siege weaponry, buckled inwards as if struck by an invisible battering ram. Sir Gideon's eyes rolled up into his head, and he was launched backwards, flying across the study as if swatted by a giant. He crashed into the far stone wall with a sickening crunch, embedding himself several inches deep, armor dented and broken. He slid down, unconscious, a plume of dust rising around him.
Silence. Absolute, ringing silence.
Ken dusted off his hands again. "Guess he pulled something after all. Shame." He looked at the King. "Demonstration over? Or is there an encore?"
King Alaric Thorne, ruler of Aeridor, a man who had faced down sorcerers and warlords, slowly rose from his seat. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with an almost feverish light. "Master Arion," he said, his voice raspy. "Your assessment of 'astronomical' may have been an understatement."
Arion, for once, was speechless. He could only nod, his mouth agape.
Elara felt a cold dread mixed with a dizzying exhilaration. The casual, almost contemptuous ease with which Ken had dismantled Aeridor's strongest warrior… it was beyond comprehension. He hadn't just defeated Gideon; he'd shattered the very concept of Gideon's strength.
Just then, as if the universe decided the demonstration wasn't quite over, one of the Royal Mages who had been stationed outside the door, drawn by the commotion and Gideon's roar, rushed in. He was an elderly man, but his eyes blazed with power, his staff crackling with raw magical energy. Seeing Sir Gideon embedded in the wall and Ken standing casually amidst the wreckage, he assumed the worst.
"Unhand the King, fiend!" the mage shrieked, thrusting his staff forward. "By the sacred wards of Aeridor, I bind thee! Chains of Aetherius!"
A torrent of shimmering, blue-white energy erupted from his staff, coalescing into ethereal chains that whipped through the air, seeking to ensnare Ken. It was a powerful binding spell, known to hold even minor demons.
Ken didn't even look at him. He sighed, a sound of mild annoyance. "Can't a guy catch a break?"
As the magical chains were about to envelop him, he did something utterly baffling.
He clapped his hands. Once.
Not a thunderclap imbued with Ki. Not a martial technique. Just… a clap.
FWUMP!
A shockwave, invisible but immensely potent, radiated outwards from him. It wasn't destructive in the traditional sense. It was… a nullification. The shimmering Chains of Aetherius, moments from binding him, flickered and dissolved into nothingness a foot away from his body, as if they'd struck an absolute, impenetrable void. The Royal Mage's staff sputtered, the light within it dying, and he stumbled back, clutching his chest as if he'd been punched, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. The magical backlash was severe.
"My… my magic…" the mage gasped, staring at his now inert staff in horror. "It… it vanished…"
Ken cracked his neck. "Magic's overrated. Too flashy. Not enough follow-through." He looked at the King, one eyebrow raised. "Okay, now are we done? Because I'm starting to work up an appetite, and your champion just redecorated the wall."
King Alaric Thorne stared at Ken, then at the unconscious Sir Gideon, then at the sputtering Royal Mage, and finally at the priceless shards of the legendary greatsword littering his scholar's floor. The implications of what he had just witnessed were world-shattering. This 'Otherworlder' wasn't just strong; he was an anomaly that broke the fundamental rules of their reality. Magic, enchanted steel, legendary warriors – they were all rendered meaningless before him.
He took a deep breath, his mind racing. Fear was a part of it, yes, but also a dawning, audacious hope.
"Master Ken Ryugasaki," the King said, his voice now imbued with a newfound gravity and respect. "It seems Aeridor, and perhaps this entire world, is about to become… significantly more interesting." He paused, a glint of something akin to a gambler's excitement in his eyes. "You asked about a steakhouse. I believe the Royal Kitchens can accommodate. And after that… I believe we have an offer for you. An offer that might just appeal to a man of your… unique appetites."
Ken's lips curved into a genuine, predatory smile. "Now you're talking, Your Majesty. Lead the way. All this… demonstrating… has made me hungry."
Elara watched him go, a shiver tracing its way down her spine. This man wasn't just a guest anymore. He was a force of nature, unleashed upon their unsuspecting world. And she had a feeling that the goosebumps, the thrill, the sheer, shocking unpredictability, had only just begun