(KOTG) Ch 21: The Things To Look Forward To!

The air itself trembled.

Before Thron's eyes was a battle that defied all logic, a sight so overwhelming that he wondered if his mind could even process what he was seeing. Kyvareth and Lysera clashed in the training ground's center, their bare fists colliding with such ferocity that the sound rippled through the air like rolling thunder. Every blow that missed its target struck the ground, cratering the earth beneath them as if the land itself was brittle glass.

They moved too fast to follow—at least for him. At times he caught only blurs, streaks of flesh and bronze-like skin, as if the two women were less bodies and more forces of nature colliding. Each step sent tremors racing up his legs even from the safety of Lysandra's palm. Each swing sent out violent gusts of wind that rattled the banners around the arena and whipped his hair against his forehead.

Around him the crowd of giants roared, a living wall of sound, their cheers rising with every devastating strike. Thron's jaw dropped, and the only word he managed to squeeze out vanished almost instantly into the storm of voices.

"Wow."

He didn't realize it, but a smile had crept onto Lysandra's lips as she watched him, perched neatly in her hand like a precious thing she was careful not to drop. She lifted her palm closer to her chest, her long silver hair shimmering in the arena's sunlight as she tilted her head to peer at him.

"Quite amazing, don't you think?" she asked, her voice warm, carrying the faintest trace of amusement as though she had seen this reaction a thousand times before.

Thron looked up at her, cheeks flushed from the excitement of the scene below. "It's incredible," he said with a short laugh, one that surprised even him—laughter born not of humor, but disbelief and awe.

Lysandra giggled softly, a gentle, melodic sound that contrasted sharply with the earth-shaking chaos below them. "Yes... it is," she said, her eyes glinting with some secret thought. For a moment, her gaze lingered not on the fighters but on the small man sitting in her palm.

Her tone shifted, low and careful, when she leaned in just slightly, her breath brushing over him like a breeze. "Did you know, Your Majesty, that both of them—Kyvareth and Lysera—though unmatched in strength and skill, will never be as strong as you?"

Thron blinked. The words hit him harder than the booming fists colliding below. He snapped his head up to stare at her, mouth falling open in shock.

"Huh?"

The sound came out small, swallowed by the roars of the crowd, but Lysandra heard him clearly. Her smile only deepened, as though she had been waiting for that very reaction.

Lysandra's smile softened as her silver eyes lingered on him, gleaming with that mix of mischief and patience that seemed to come so naturally to her.

"You've already experienced it, did you not?" she said, tilting her head ever so slightly.

Thron blinked, unsure what she meant. "What do you mean?"

Her voice dropped to something almost conspiratorial, like she was sharing a secret that only a chosen few could know. "I'm referring to the battle against Vytharion—our neighbors. You may not realize it, but you used a great power during that conflict. Do you remember anything?"

Thron frowned, eyes narrowing as his thoughts pulled him back to that moment—the chaos, the fear, the weight of the battlefield pressing in on him. He swallowed hard. "I... kinda do," he admitted slowly. "There was this... heat. Something fierce. It came from my gut, like fire crawling up through my chest. It wasn't just heat—it was anger. My anger."

Lysandra nodded, the glimmer in her eyes sharpening. "Exactly. That is the power of the king. The same power of the First King—the one who created us."

Thron's head jerked back as if struck. His voice came out hoarse, almost disbelieving. "Wait... you're saying I—"

"Yes." Lysandra didn't hesitate. "You have inherited that power. Therefore, no giant, no matter her strength or skill, can truly resist you."

Thron just stared at her, mouth parting in silent shock. He had thought this whole "being king" thing meant sitting on a throne, being pampered, and maybe—if he was lucky—doing something useful for the people. Never had he imagined this. A power? A force tied to the very roots of the kingdom itself?

His gaze turned back toward the training grounds, where Kyvareth and Lysera were still locked in combat, their fists colliding in earth-shattering bursts of sound, each blow flattening stone and air alike. The idea that he could take on either one of them—let alone both—was insane. And yet... Lysandra's words rang in his ears.

"The power of the king, huh?" he muttered under his breath, as though testing the phrase, rolling it on his tongue like it might make more sense the second time.

He turned his head back toward Lysandra, brow furrowed. "So... how do I even use this power? How do I call on it?"

Her smile deepened, her expression warming as she slowly raised her hand higher, bringing him up toward her towering face. The sunlight caught the rims of her glasses, making them flash for a moment as she leaned closer.

Thron tilted his head back, his earlier frown of concentration dissolving into something else entirely—shock. His breath caught as he saw her lips begin to purse, plush and full, descending toward him with a gentle inevitability.

"Wait, wha—"

He didn't finish. Her lips pressed over him, enveloping his entire body in their pillowy warmth. To him, it was like being smothered by velvet cushions that smelled faintly of lavender and parchment. His face burned crimson, his heart hammering in his chest, and though every part of him wanted to push away, another part—the part that betrayed him—thrummed with excitement.

When Lysandra finally pulled back, her lips glistened slightly, and a faint pink dusted her pale cheeks. She held him steady, her smile curling at the corners as though she were thoroughly amused by his reaction.

Thron, meanwhile, was flailing in her palm, face redder than ever. "W-what was that for!?" he blurted, half indignant, half embarrassed, the words tumbling out before he could even breathe.

Lysandra said nothing. She only giggled, the sound light and teasing, her eyes narrowing with mischief as if she knew far more than she was willing to admit.