Chapter 7 (The Tyrant King)

"Our savior is a boy?!" King Ragnar V reluctantly declares, "Then we're doomed," he continues. Most people in the throne room laughs at his remarks. "Come hither, gatekeeper. Let me take a close look at what the prophecy foretold of the zodiac prince that will shine his light against darkness and deliver us from the pangs of death when the culling comes," he gestures his hand for me to come closer. I got nervous; the king's presence is very intimidating, so undeniably repugnant. Afterall he's king Ragnar the tyrant. He commands life and death at a mere wave of his callous hands. I look at Elvira who stood motionless like a statue for support. She is voiceless in the throne room. All she can afford me is a little nod of encouragement and a silent twinkle in her eyes urging me to come forward and stand before the presence of the king. "How young are you boy?" he asks. "Fifteen my king," I answer, fighting every chance I can get to not loose my bearing.

As I stand in front of King Ragnar V, I feel the overwhelming presence of a true tyrant. His figure is imposing, clad in opulent garments that seem to shimmer with an almost otherworldly quality. But it is the crown upon his head that truly captures my attention. The Crown of Judgement, as it is known, is fashioned into a breathtaking constellation of stars, each one a symbol of his absolute authority over the other great races. This crown isn't just an ornament; it is a powerful artifact, a sacred tool imbued with ancient an celestial magic. He who wields the Crown of Judgment has the ability of invoking his will upon his subjects through a sheer command.

Historically, kings of the past had used this crown to control low-level monsters, and make a slave of out of them. The ability is called the conqueror's spell, those who has lesser will gets enslaved by it. The more powerful the will of the holder, the more potent the conqueror's spell becomes. The old king used this sacred artifact paired with his blood magic to enslave the Giants and have them build the wall that we now know today. The crown emanates a force that seem to strangle the very air around it. Standing there, I could feel this energy seeping into me, a sensation that makes every single cell in my body tingle and fight against its oppressive weight as if King Ragnar uses the crown's magic against me to demonstrate the unmatched power he holds. The conqueror's spell washes over me. I could feel it in my bones, an unyielding pressure that demands submission. My instincts scream to resist, but the sheer force of his will, amplified by the magic of the crown, make it a losing battle. In that moment, I understand why he was feared, and unloved, yet his reign was unchallenged – King Ragnar V is a master of dominance magic, and the Crown of Judgement is his ultimate instrument of control.

Dominance magic, often referred to as blood magic due to its exclusive ties to the old king's bloodline, is a formidable and fearsome form of sorcery. This ancient magic grants its wielder the ability to enslave people and bind monsters through telepathy.

The wielder or caster uses this power as a profound mental manipulation. First, he would initiate a telepathic link, a mental bridge that connects his mind to his target's. This connection, potent and invasive, allows him to penetrate the deepest recesses of their thoughts. Once established, he would engage in a psychic battle, where his immense willpower overpowers his target's mental defenses. The sheer strength of his mind overwhelms his victims, subduing their thoughts and emotions. They had no choice but to succumb. With their resistance shattered, the caster commands directly into their target's consciousness. These commands, whether simple or complex, compels absolute obedience, and once embedded deeply, they persist without the need for continuous mental exertion from the caster.

Binding monsters with dominance magic requires an even more direct application of will. To subjugate fearsome creatures, the caster first has to confront and overpower them, proving his superiority. Once the monster's will has been broken, the caster could use his dominance magic to impose his own will upon it. In some instances, this process involves a ritualistic incantation, where the caster performs rites that enhances the magic's potency combined with his own blood through a contract. Once the binding is complete, it is absolute, and only death can break it. This is how the past gatekeepers subdue the 12 elemental spirits. In recorded history, no gatekeepers in the past was able to control all the 12 elemental spirits. The last one, the most powerful among my previous incarnates, the one who very nearly defeated the dark king, only manage to full bind with 7 of the 12 elemental spirits. And even that was not enough to defeat the dark king.

Only those of royal descent could access and wield this power with the exemption of the zodiac prince. It was a safeguard, ensuring that the ruling family alone could control such formidable magic, reinforcing their dominance over the realm.

As King Ragnar's domination magic washes over me, I feel a surge of power ignite within, a force so potent it lifts me off the ground. Lightheadedness envelopes me, and the world around me blurs as though I had stepped into another realm entirely. My body is no longer my own; it is entranced, possessed by an overwhelming presence that surge through my veins. I could feel the power of the twelve elemental spirits intertwining with my very essence, their markings searing into my skin and glowing with an ethereal light. The twelve elemental zodiac signs appeared on both my arms, each symbol radiating an ancient, unfathomable energy.

I find myself floating inside the throne room, slightly above King Ragnar's throne. The perspective shifted; I was looking down upon him, no longer the subject of his oppressive will but an embodiment of something far greater, stronger. My voice, no longer my own, transforms into a deep, commanding presence that reverberates through the air—an omnipotent force, an entity that speaks through me with an authority that transcends mortal comprehension.

The walls and palace grounds quake as my newfound power clashes with King Ragnar's domination magic. The energy of the twelve elemental spirits roars within me, "You dare try to control us, mortal," the voice thunders, each word a seismic wave that ripples through the room. "We bow to no one!" The entire castle trembles as though all the four elements had been stirred into a tempestuous fury.

King Ragnar's crown falls to the ground. The power struggle reaches its zenith, and as the twelve elemental spirits deem the threat for my life was vanquished, they gently release their hold on me. My consciousness began to return, the surreal sensation of possession fading away. I felt the same eerie tingling that night when the nightcrawler attacked, but this time, my eyes are wide open. My awareness which had been transported to another realm had now returned to reality.

The throne room, still quivering from the aftermath, stood as a testament to the incredible power that had coursed through me. As the tremors subside and the elemental spirits' presence recede, the throne room falls into a stunned silence. I descend gently to the ground, my feet touching the marble floor as if emerging from a profound dream. The room was charged with an almost tangible energy, and I could feel the weight of countless gazes upon me. The shock in the eyes of those present was unmistakable; their faces etched with a mixture of surprise, awe, and bewilderment. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd, and I could sense the collective breath being held, as though no one dared to speak.

Then, one by one, people began to kneel. A ripple of movement spread through the room as subjects and courtiers alike drop to their knees, their expressions transform from shock to reverence. "Long live the Gatekeeper, long live the twelve great elemental spirits," they sang in unison, their voices rising in a harmonious chant.

The leaders from the Magi Order stand out. Their astonishment mirror that of the others, but there is something more in their gaze—a slight curl of approval on their lips. They are with me. The Magi Order had silently pledged their allegiance through their expressions and the gentle nods they gave.

King Ragnar, still seated upon his throne, was a stark contrast to the reverent assembly before him. His declaration cuts through the air, "You have passed the test!" he proclaimed, his voice carrying the weight of reluctant acknowledgment. Yet, beneath it, I could sense the simmering detestation. His eyes, though outwardly calm, betrays a flicker of disapproval. He does not approve of the people's newfound reverence toward me, and his tone, though controlled, was tinged with a bitterness he could not entirely mask.

I stand there, absorbing the scene, aware that I had become more than just a participant in a test. I had become a symbol, a vessel for the elemental spirits, and a beacon of hope and defiance against the dark king, a formidable force that sleeps within me needs to awaken for it is our best chance at defeating the dark king and win the inevitable wars to come.