The Bronze King

A pair of wide violet eyes stared at the dazzling floating screen before him.

In the center were three dull, card-shaped images, beneath which glimmered a radiant golden hourglass with a number displayed beside it: [Essence Count: 3].

The backdrop was an endless white mist, ethereal and dreamlike, as if Aemon were standing amidst the clouds.

"The cheat system has arrived!"

Aemon was so thrilled he nearly shouted. He extended his chubby little hand and poked at the edges of the glowing panel.

Finally, my good days are here!

The moment he touched the screen, ripples spread across the misty white, washing everything into a new display:

[Aemon Targaryen]

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Skills: High Valyrian (Proficient), Common Tongue (Fluent)…

Magic Cards: None

Status: "A severely sleep-deprived human child whose condition is beginning to affect their physical development."

"Huh, it updates in real-time?"

Aemon carefully examined the panel, especially the [Status] section, paying extra attention to its implications.

He looked down at himself. His short, chubby arms and legs seemed healthy and well-fed—not at all malnourished.

But his brow furrowed as he measured his height with his hands.

There's a problem. He wasn't growing fast enough.

Although technically nine years old, his true age was just past eight, and his height was barely over a meter. Compared to the children of the Vale, who inherited the strong blood of the First Men, he was notably shorter.

"So, it's not that they're growing too fast—I'm just growing too slow?"

The realization dawned on Aemon. No wonder the Vale kids always towered over him. Didn't he also have some First Men blood?

Turning his focus back to the shimmering panel, Aemon poked it a few more times.

No response.

Clearly, this was a single-player system.

Since it lacked a name, he decided to call it the Magic Essence Panel going forward.

"Now, how does this work? I don't want to stay a stunted little potato forever."

Aemon, with a hint of worry, tapped at the [Status] section.

Nothing happened.

Sighing in frustration, he turned his attention to other parts of the panel. After about half an hour of tinkering, he managed to figure it out:

The front side displayed his personal stats in real time.The back side was the exchange page, where magic essence could be used to unlock or upgrade magical cards.

With one hand cradling his black dragon egg and the other scrolling through the exchange page, Aemon muttered to himself, "I need a way to fix my sleep first. The dragon egg will have to wait."

Pop!

Three flashes of light, each a different color, revealed three cards flipping over in succession:

[Guidance Once]: "A small stroke of luck."The card depicted a golden finger pointing in a specific direction against a white background.

[One-Handed Sword Mastery]: "Beloved by valiant knights."A green card with the image of a rusty longsword.

[Rock-Solid]: "Skin hardens like stone."A blue card showing a grayish figure in a powerful stance, with numbers +1, +1 floating above its head.

It was obvious that the cards came in three tiers.

"These are amazing... but the prices..."

Aemon's eyes sparkled with excitement, but his enthusiasm dimmed when he glanced at the numbers under each card:

White card: [10 Essence]

Green card: [60 Essence]

Blue card: [150 Essence]

His gaze shifted to the golden hourglass displaying his [Essence Count: 3], and he reluctantly withdrew his eager hand.

"No worries. If I don't have enough essence, I'll just find more!"

Aemon quickly formulated a plan.

According to the panel's rules, any magical item could yield essence when its latent magic was absorbed into the hourglass.

Closing the panel, he picked up the black dragon egg.

The earlier system notification—"Magic Essence +3"—had come from this very egg.

As a supreme magical creature, dragons embodied raw magic, and their eggs were brimming with latent energy.

Fortunately, the panel only absorbed excess magic and wouldn't harm the egg's core vitality.

Satisfied, Aemon carefully placed the egg back into its incubator, breathing a small sigh of relief.

The system's extraction method ensured it only drew ambient magical buildup, leaving the object's core power intact. This rule applied to all magical items.

"Alright. Fixing my height and sleep starts with finding more magic."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Aemon pushed open his door and snuck out of the room.

Dodging the maids preparing lunch and avoiding the bustling castle courtyards, Aemon kept his presence inconspicuous.

As one of the Vale's most powerful noble houses, the Royces of Runestone commanded vast lands, strong armies, and significant influence.

This meant the outer courtyards were always teeming with visitors, retainers, and family members.

Not wanting to draw attention, Aemon slipped quietly through the crowd.

Soon, he reached a secluded area behind the castle and opened a wooden hatch, descending into the family crypt.

Though called a crypt, it was more of a storage area, dark and cluttered with bronze relics and ancient debris.

"Where is it, where is it?"

Lighting an oil lamp, Aemon scoured the room, kicking aside cobwebs as he went. The cleanly laid stone bricks beneath his feet stood out amidst the dusty surroundings.

This was his secret base.

For a lonely child, a quiet place to retreat was essential—and the ancient crypt of his ancestors fit the bill.

Was he afraid? Not in the slightest. If there were ghosts down here, they'd only be distant relatives. Who doesn't have a helpful ancestor or two?

Clang!

After some effort, Aemon unearthed a rusted suit of bronze armor.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he grinned in triumph.

The Royces' history was ancient, tracing back to the days when they ruled the Vale as the Bronze Kingdom. Their lands once spanned the plains of Runestone, the eastern coastline, and the treacherous peaks of the Mountains of the Moon.

Though their rule ended with the Andal invasion, they remained the Vale's strongest family under House Arryn.

Aemon crouched, puffing away the dust to reveal the mystical runes carved into the armor's surface.

The moment his small hand touched the bronze, the system chimed:

"Contact with damaged magical item detected. Magic Essence +5 acquired."

"Wow!" Aemon exclaimed, delighted.

The Royces, with their First Men heritage, practiced an ancient bronze-age magic, engraving protective runes on their armor.

Of course, the magic rarely worked—those ancestors died just as easily in battle as anyone else.

But now, their ancient treasures had found a new purpose: fueling Aemon's plans.

"Little Aemon, reporting for duty!"