Rivalry of Kings

The throne room of the Cyberion Imperium was a marvel of engineering and artistry. It was not a typical hall adorned with banners and carvings; instead, it was an awe-inspiring fusion of crystalline lights, mechanical constructs, and pulsating leyline energy flowing through intricate conduits along the walls.

Zeyron sat on a throne crafted from Starheart, its surface shimmering with a faint glow. He leaned back, his arms resting casually on the armrests as he gazed at his guest with a faint smirk. Before him stood Rudra Nam Ul Nasca, the man destined to rule humanity, his aura radiating ambition and purpose.

Rudra was dressed in imperial regalia, his golden armor gleaming under the refracted light of the room. His piercing eyes locked onto Zeyron's, a mixture of frustration and camaraderie flickering within them.

"Zeyron," Rudra began, his tone steady yet laced with a hint of exasperation, "this is the last time I'll ask you. Why not join me as a duke? Together, we could unify this world under a single banner in just a year, leaving us with another year to prepare before Veldanava sends us to the mystery continent. With your strength and my strategy, no force could oppose us."

Zeyron chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the expansive hall. "You're persistent, Rudra. I'll give you that." He leaned forward, his eyes glimmering with amusement. "But you already know my answer."

Rudra crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "Humor me."

Zeyron's smirk widened. "I didn't endure ten years of Veldanava's brutal training, create a kingdom from nothing, and forge a race of sentient beings just to play second fiddle to anyone—even you."

Rudra's lips twitched, caught between a scowl and a grin. "So it's pride, then?"

"No," Zeyron replied, his tone growing serious. "It's principle. I'm a transmigrator, Rudra. If I don't carve out my own legacy, if I don't create an empire, then what was the point of being reborn here? I refuse to set a bad example for those who might follow."

Rudra sighed, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

"And you're relentless," Zeyron retorted, a glint of amusement returning to his eyes.

"A Proposal of Rivalry"

Rudra stepped closer, his presence commanding despite knowing Zeyron was stronger than him. "If you won't join me, then let's make this interesting."

"Oh?" Zeyron raised an eyebrow.

Rudra extended his hand, his expression turning into a challenge. "Let's see who can expand their kingdom faster. Who can conquer the world first. No alliances, no asking for help—just a contest between us."

Zeyron's smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine intrigue. He stood from his throne, his towering figure looming over Rudra. For a moment, the room was silent, the hum of leyline energy the only sound.

Then, Zeyron extended his own hand, clasping Rudra's in a firm grip. "So you want to play that game with me, huh?" Zeyron smiled.

"You're on," he said, his voice filled with resolve. "But don't come crying to me when you realize you've bitten off more than you can chew."

Rudra laughed, the sound hearty and confident. "We'll see, Zeyron. We'll see."

As Rudra turned to leave, he paused at the massive mechanical doors of the throne room. Without looking back, he said, "I'll give you one piece of advice: Don't underestimate humanity. You may have your machines and your power, but we have something you can't replicate—our ambition."

Zeyron watched him go, a faint smile lingering on his lips. "And I'll give you one in return, Rudra," he murmured to himself. "Don't underestimate me. This world hasn't seen the full extent of what I'm capable of."

Just then, as both men were having their "manly moment," the doors were violently thrown open with a loud explosion that sent dust and debris swirling around them.

Multiple machines surged forward to shield Zeyron and Rudra, although neither truly needed protection. Both men knew exactly who it was.

"I want to play this game you two are planning," declared the intruder, a 9-year-old girl with bright pink hair and a mischievous smile.

Rudra glared at her with exasperation. "Milim, this is your study time. Why are you here?"

At the mention of "study," Milim stiffened but quickly regained her confidence. "I heard what you were talking about, and I want to join in for fun!"

"So you were using your unique skill during class, weren't you?" Zeyron said, his tone half-amused. Milim's eyes widened in horror, and she stared at him accusingly.

"Uncle Zeyron, you…!" She pointed a trembling finger at him, her expression a mix of betrayal and indignation.

Before she could say more, Rudra picked her up with one hand. "Looks like I need to tell your mother about this. Not only skipping classes but using your unique skill during lessons and now wanting to join a war between your two uncles at your age?"

"No! Anything but that!" Milim cried, tears streaming down her face—crocodile tears that neither man was fooled by.

Zeyron watched the scene with a fond smile. The timeline was already irreparably altered, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that one of his favorite characters from the anime finally had the life she deserved—a life worthy of the rightful heir of God.

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