The palace was unusually quiet.
Nobles whispered in corners. Servants moved like shadows.
Something was coming.
No… someone.
At the heart of the capital, Ayra stood on the training field—her usual retreat from nonsense and noise. Her sparring staff cracked stone as she exhaled, her movements precise but filled with quiet frustration.
She felt it.
An overwhelming presence approaching.
Suddenly, the air cracked. Like glass.
Wind blasted through the capital gates, and a divine pressure pressed down on everyone like gravity gone mad.
From a glowing golden carriage stepped out a man with silver hair and a crown forged from starlight.
His eyes—ancient, unreadable—scanned the kingdom with disgust.
> "This is the place that mocked my granddaughter?"
The King of the Most Powerful Kingdom, ruler of the 1st among 120, had arrived.
---
Ayra's Identity Revealed
Ayra stood still.
The necklace around her neck pulsed again, and a golden light surged upward.
It formed the shape of a sigil—the royal crest of the First Kingdom.
Gasps filled the courtyard.
One by one, nobles who once mocked her fell to their knees.
> "That crest—! It only belongs to the royal bloodline of the First Kingdom!"
The king stepped forward, looking at Ayra with emotion burning in his eyes.
> "You have her eyes... my daughter. The one I lost to a storm of stars and silence."
Ayra felt her throat tighten—but said nothing. He didn't need her words. The truth was shining around her.
> "They mocked you. They beat you. They abandoned you. Let me show them what it means to provoke my blood."
---
Vengeance Begins
The king raised his hand—and light exploded from the sky.
In a flash, every noble who raised a hand against Ayra was marked with a divine brand. A curse.
> "They will not die... not yet. Let them live long enough to see what she becomes."
The capital shook.
No one dared breathe.
Ayra stood motionless. Not with pride. Not with fear. But with something cold and sharp rising in her chest—
> She didn't need saving... but it felt good to be seen.
---