Dawn in Azerith Castle.
A faint golden light seeped through the stained-gl windows, falling in shards upon the endless hallways. The castle, impossibly vast yet eerily silent, felt like it belonged to a forgotten myth.
Eiden sprawled across the throne, one leg dangling, chin on hand. He hadn't slept—not that he felt the need. Instead, he'd passed the hours exploring the crystal's functions and watching his new… residents.
Seven girls, all accounted for, were scattered throughout the guest wing. Their hushed drifted up from below: cautious but warmer now, like a campfire that had finally been lit.
> "Kleros… hmm. Sounds cool. Better than Eiden, at least. I should really get used to responding to that now."
He flicked the crystal and zoomed in on the kitchen. Clara was rolling out dough with focus, a sprinkle of flour on her nose. The others prepared a strange breakfast—some kind of dark bread and eggs tinted blue.
> "I still believe how efficiently they work. Did they form a cooking guild on run or something?"
Eiden suppressed a chuckle. The absurdity of the situation struck him anew: somewhere between an RPG save file, a haunted house, and a fantasy relocation game.
Just then, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Lumia, wrapped a plain nightgown she'd scrounged from the wardrobe, approached the throne room. The doors swung open with a low groan.
"Lord Kleros?" she called, voice still uncertain.
He straightened on the throne, adjusting his so his face remained veiled. He waved a gloved hand—a gesture he'd practiced in the mirror for added style.
"You may enter," he intoned. Still got it.
Lumia stepped forward, pausing at the foot of the staircase leading to the. She bowed deeply—practiced, but not subservient. Eiden respected that.
"We wish to express our gratitude for your hospitality," she began, words careful. "But… I must ask: what do you want from us?"
Eiden the armrest, buying time.
What do I want? Not much, actually. peaceful castle, a backlog of games, maybe some cool magic… Is that too much to ask?
He cleared his throat. "For now, nothing but your peace well-being. Azerith is vast and underused. Consider it sanctuary until you choose otherwise."
Lumia frowned, clearly not expecting that answer. "Is there… a catch Must we sign a contract—or provide service?"
Eiden grinned beneath the hood. "You are my guests. Food, rest, and safety are freely. If, and only if, you wish to remain as my retainers, I will ask nothing more than loyalty and honesty. No obligations otherwise."
A long silence. She lowered her gaze.
"That is… more generous than we have known from any lord," she admitted.
Eiden shifted unably.
Guess nobles here are as trashy as in light novels, huh.
He gestured again, royal this time. "When you are all ready, gather here. I wish to give you a tour—and answer your questions, within reason. Azerith is… unique. There are places you must not enter, and some you should be prepared to use."
L perked up at that. "May I ask… what is this place, truly?"
Eiden hesitated, staring past her at the swirling mist beyond the windows.
What *is* this place? I wish I knewHe lifted the crystal gently, letting it hover in his palm. a low voice, mysterious yet soft, he replied:
"Azerith was once a seat of power—and mystery. Many have sought it, but few have ever left. You are safe here, so long as you remain within its bounds." He paused, letting that sink in. "This castle can protect you from most things that haunt this land. But it may also draw attention. There are rules. And there are secrets, some even I do not yet understand."
Lumia's eyes widened. For a moment, awe outshone her fear.
"I will tell the others," said quietly.
As she departed, Eiden slumped with relief, blowing out a breath.
> "Nice. I sounded just mysterious enough. If only my gaming guild could see me now…"
Soon after, the rest of the girls arrived Most had changed into odd, mismatched clothes—Azerith's wardrobe seemed to generate outfits at random, every chest and armoire packed with finery and ill-fitting armor.
Eiden stood, crystal in hand. He gestured for them follow.
Thus began the grand tour.
He showed them the main hall—a ballroom of black marble, dustless and pristine. The library, towering and endless, lined withes titled in languages no one could read. The baths, the gardens under artificial sunlight, and the armory—stocked with weapons that humm when touched.
They moved in a silent, awestruck procession, stealing glances at Eiden with cocktail of respect and caution.
When a tiny, porcelain golem hummed to life and began polishing the floors, of the girls, Clara, nearly screamed. Eiden coughed, pretending indifference.
"Please do not disturb the castle spirits," he intoned. "They maintain Azerith."
The tour ended back at the throne room. Eiden dismissed them, urging them to rest, train, or explore—so long as they avoided chambers marked with the sign of a frozen serpent.
Hours later, alone, Eiden slumped on the throne.
This world's got so many secrets… And I'm in the middle of all of them.
He gazed at the crystal feeling the pulse of distant magic. Somewhere in Azerith's depths, an old bell tolled softly—one he hadn't rung.
He frowned.
> "Who else is down there…?"
The bell's echo faded, settling an uneasy hush over the vast halls—the sort of silence makes you aware of how old stone can still breathe and murmur.\n\nEiden gripped the crystal tighter. That wasn't an accident. I haven't touched anything… So what summoned that bell? A forgotten mechanism? A ward? Or… someone?
He sent the crystal's sight spiraling down, plunging through layer after layer of Azerith's architecture. Past regal suites and winding servant passages, past armories and crypts, into regions even his virtual "dungeon cam" felt strange skimming through.
Corridors damp with mist. Heavy doors banded in blackened iron. Mur faded almost to myth. At last, the crystal hovered at the edge of a vast cistern, lost in the earth's cold embrace. Flickers ofes still glimmered across the floor—some design, some warning.
But there a faint flicker. Was it movement?
> "Well.'t turn back now," Eiden muttered.
He willed the vision closer, steadying his nerves. As the parted, a figure took shape—clearly not one of the girls. Not human, and not spirit. It stood hunched, wrapped in rags and chain, with the faint glint of metal peeking from beneath the tatters. Two flame-like sparks burned beneath a heavy hoodEiden's breath caught. Is this… a guard? A prisoner? Or something else the old master left behind?
He remembered his own warning about the sign of the frozen. The door at the far wall bore that symbol—snake coiled around a crown of blue ice.
Should I interact? My "overlord" act won't count for much if I meet a real monster. But if I leave it be…
Suddenly, the thing moved. Its head turned straight toward the crystal's "eye Even through the magic, Eiden felt the weight of that gaze.\n\n"Who calls…?" rasped the thing in a voice rough as stones grinding.
Eiden's instincts screamed for retreat, but something in crystal pulsed—like an ancient protocol rising to his aid. Compelled, he spoke, letting his voice again warp into distorted majesty:
"I am Kleros. Lord of Azerith. What are you?"
The chained shade paused, then knelt—chains clattering, the gesture slow and heavy.
"I am the Bounder. Long was I set to slumber, O lord. Yet, the bell sounds anew. Are there… intruders to be judged?"
Eiden kept silent for a heartbeat. This thing recognized him as master? Or at least, his body.
> "There are guests," he said, careful. "They are here by my will. None but I or mine may be punished."
The figure bowed its head. "So shall it be, by the old compact." It faded back into the shadows, settling against the far wall, silent again.
Eiden let out a long, shaky breath. He could feel sweat beading a body that shouldn't have needed it.
Man, that was close. If I said something stupid…
He pulled the vision away, letting it soar back up through the levels, toward the gentle sunlight above. The pulse of magic in his hand faded.
Some mysteries are better alone… for now.
Just then, the throne room doors creaked open again. Clara slipped in, glancing nervously around before approaching. She held a small bundle—a loaf of bread, cheese.
She offered it, bowing, voice wobbly but sincere. "For you, Lord Kleros. We… we made too much. And we thought… maybe you would join us? For breakfast?"
Eiden blinked, then—remembering his part—draped his cloak tighter. He smiled beneath the obscuring mist, warmth rising despite himself.
"Thank you, Clara I will accept. Let us… share the morning meal."
And for the first time since waking in this strange new world, he stepped down from the throne and walked among who called him lord—not just a watcher, but something like hope.
Little did he know the castle's oldest secrets, and the world beyond its mist, were only beginning to awaken…
be continued....