Chapter 995: [995] : The Undefeated Capital

The Restoration Empire was, at its core, a sanctuary the Spirit King had once built for his people.

Spirits and humans had lived side by side here for generations—more densely packed in the capital than anywhere else, but present across every city and province. The rest of the world barely registered their existence. Here, passing a spirit on the street was as ordinary as passing a merchant.

That had stopped being true about ten years ago.

The Spirit King had not appeared in this region for a decade. But long before that—in the empire’s earliest days—he had descended without warning and stood before a crowd of frightened humans who had never seen anything like him.

"People of this land," he had said, his voice carrying no particular effort. "I am the Spirit King. Our world has run into a problem, and resolving it requires an agreement between our kinds."

The empire had been skeptical. Spirits were powerful—anyone with eyes could see that—but most people in those days had never actually encountered one. The natural response was fear.

The spirits, for their part, were patient. Friendly, even. The few bad actors among them were handled quietly and internally, and over time the humans who had been afraid began to understand that these weren’t creatures to be feared.

The Spirit King’s protection turned out to be real. A powerful empire came knocking on the Restoration Empire’s door looking for a conquest, and the Spirit King answered instead. That army turned around and never came back. After that, the humans stopped arguing.

But living together and truly sharing a world were different things. The king at the time—young, sharper than he looked, and apparently more willing to take risks than anyone around him expected—made a decision. If the gap between humans and spirits was ever going to close, someone had to be the first one across it.

So he crossed it. He fell for the Spirit King’s daughter. And because he did, his people watched, understood, and slowly followed.

Spirits filtered into human society. The walls came down, piece by piece.

And then, without explanation, the Spirit King vanished.

With him gone, something in the spirits themselves began to fade. Lucy’s mother. Her mother’s kin. One by one, the full-blooded spirits grew weaker, sickened, and died—as though whatever had sustained them here had been quietly withdrawn. No one could explain it. The Spirit King never returned. What was left were the half-blooded descendants, the children of spirit and human unions, carrying diluted power and no answers.

The king had eventually arrived at his own theory: the Spirit King had hidden his people here, hoping to shield them from something catastrophic. Whatever that disaster was, it had found them anyway.

And while the empire was still reeling from that loss, its neighbor—the Valcor Empire—had seized the opportunity without hesitation. Three-quarters of the Restoration Empire’s territory was absorbed in the years that followed.

No war. Just relentless pressure until there was nothing left to push against.

Every year since, on this day, the empire gathered in the great square before the Spirit King’s statue and prayed. For a miracle. For his return. For anything.

None had come.

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At the far edge of the gathered crowd, away from the noise and the ceremony, an old man stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore the weight of his years visibly—white hair, drawn face, the posture of someone who had been tired for a long time and had stopped expecting that to change.

The man beside him waited quietly as the king spoke.

"Two of the Four Heavenly Kings are dead. Lucy has been missing for weeks. Alice refuses to acknowledge me. And the Valcor Empire is mobilizing—I can feel it in the dispatches."

He exhaled slowly.

"I don’t know how much longer we hold, Minister. I’ve spent years going through every record, every text, every fragment of spirit lore I could find. There’s nothing. No answer. No way back."

"Find Lucy," he said. "That’s the only thing that matters now. If she’s safe—if I can know she’s safe—then whatever happens next, at least that much is right." ℯℯ𝑙.

He paused.

"There are things I should have said to both of them. Years ago. I didn’t."

The minister, a careful man in wire-rimmed glasses, chose his words slowly.

"Your Majesty. Regarding Alice... is there anything you’d want me to—"

"No." The king’s voice didn’t harden, exactly. It just closed. "Alice is right to hate me. She has every reason. The best thing I can do for her now is make sure she never has to come back to this place."

He looked at the statue.

"She’s strong enough to build her own life anywhere. If Lucy is with her, then let them both go. This kingdom has taken enough from them already."

The minister said nothing. He had learned, over the years, when the king had made up his mind.

The moment held—and then the Spirit King’s statue exploded.

Not literally. But the air around it collapsed inward with a sound like a cannon firing sideways, a massive pressure wave that knocked prayer candles off their stands and sent the nearest crowd members stumbling back. A black vortex spun open in the space directly in front of the carved stone face, churning fast and tight...

...and three figures came tumbling out of it.

The king’s head snapped up.

"Is that..." He grabbed the minister’s arm. "Get someone over there. Now. If that’s a spirit—"

The soldier who sprinted back thirty seconds later was slightly out of breath.

"Your Majesty. Three individuals. One of them—we believe it’s the princess. The younger one."

The color drained from the king’s face, then flooded back.

"MOVE. EVERYONE MOVE."

He was already walking.

From across the plaza he could make them out—a young man standing at the center, both arms occupied, with two girls pressed against him from either side. One of them was small, blonde, unmistakably Lucy.

The other one—

The king’s jaw locked.

"Who is that man," he said, very quietly. "Get him away from my daughters. Don’t touch Lucy."

The soldiers moved.

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