"I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!"

Auborn stood triumphant before his enemies.

His cloak dusted with soot and his crown tilted slightly to the right, but his grin stretched wide like an evi clown.

With the aid of dozens of mages and armored knights, he had done the unthinkable- he had captured Auren and the others like prey caught in a hunter's snare.

Chains of darkness bound their wrists and ankles, runes hissed across the dirty floor, and the faint stench of burnt mana clung to the air.

The so called rebels had fought hard, but now they knelt, defeated and restrained, before the king of Austerra.

The noise of their battle had been impossible to ignore.

The city stirred awake, and soon the palace courtyard was flooded with curious eyes.

Commoners and merchants alike squeezed shoulder to shoulder, craning their necks for a glimpse of the trouble maker.

Nobles in fine robes whispered behind jeweled hands.

Guards struggled to hold the line as the crowd thickened, drawn by the irresistible lure of spectacle- blood and betrayal under the moonlit sky.

"Everyone!" Auborn bellowed, his voice amplified by magic until it rang against the marble columns. "What you see bound before you right now are the main culprits behind our kingdom's rebellion!"

The declaration rolled across the courtyard like thunder, silencing the murmurs of the crowd.

He strode forward, boots clicking sharply against the stone, and thrust a finger toward Austaire.

"This woman here is my half-blood sister, who sought the throne for her own greedy ambitions.

But alas, the heavens have favored us tonight, and she has walked straight into our trap!"

Austaire lifted her chin, eyes blazing despite the chains. She said nothing, but the fire in her gaze burned hotter than any torch.

Auborn ignored it. He relished this moment too much. With a sneer, he turned toward another captive. Grand Duke Mardonio, once proud and feared, now lay bruised and battered in the dirt.

Auborn pressed the heel of his boot against Mardonio's cheek, grinding it until the man's face was smeared into the stone.

"And this here," Auborn said, his grin widening, "is the not-so-great Mardonio. One of the rebellion's leading voices. A man who has cost us endless blood and countless lives. But look at him now- broken, humiliated, crushed like the rat he is!"

The crowd reacted in waves. Some common folk nodded along, muttering agreement, swallowing the king's words whole.

Yet others only stared in uneasy silence. They knew the truth. Auborn might wear the crown, but he was no savior of Austerra.

He was no better than his father, Aurelus- a tyrant who ruled with cruelty wrapped in gold.

Among the nobles, the air grew heavier still. Several supported Austaire in secret, their loyalty sworn not to the king but to the dream of a freer kingdom.

But those same nobles now kept their faces blank, their mouths sealed tight. They knew what Auborn was capable of.

To speak here, to raise even the smallest protest, was to invite execution.

And Auborn delighted in public executions.

While every eye remained fixed on the king, another figure slipped into the shadows. Magnus moved with practiced ease, his tall frame blending seamlessly with the armored guards. His cloak caught the flicker of torchlight, but his presence was otherwise swallowed by the chaos.

The Dark Fate's involvement could not be revealed- not yet.

Auborn caught sight of him. Their eyes met briefly. The king gave the faintest nod of approval, and Magnus inclined his head just enough to acknowledge it before melting into the line of soldiers once more.

With that silent exchange complete, Auborn continued his inspection of the prisoners. His gaze was sharp, his steps unhurried, like a predator circling his prey.

When he came upon Robert, his brow furrowed. The man's Divine Frame flickered faintly, an odd thing for one who claimed to be nothing more than a herbalist.

"What about this man?" Auborn asked, motioning with a tilt of his head. "Why is a herbalist among them?"

One of his advisers shifted uneasily. "I do not know him, my lord."

A commander-knight stepped forward quickly, eager to prove useful. "That, my lord, is Robert the Herbalist."

"I can see that. Do you think I cannot read?" Auborn snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut stone.

The knight faltered. "Apologies, my lord. But if you recall the incident thirteen years ago- the disappearance of your father Aurelus' third child- it was this man who kidnapped the infant and carried him deep into Runewood."

Auborn's expression shifted, the spark of curiosity igniting in his eyes. He crouched slightly, peering at Robert as though studying a peculiar insect. "Ohhh. Now that is interesting. What else?"

The knight swallowed hard, glancing at Robert's bowed head. "Three years ago, he was among those who slandered your name, accusing you of consorting with the Dark Fate and- "

"Execute him," Auborn said flatly, cutting the explanation short.

His words were colder than steel.

"I despise those who drag my name through the mud. Who would ever work with that terrorist scum?"

As he spoke, his eyes flickered briefly toward Magnus.

Magnus only smiled, lips curling in silent mockery.

The aides and nobles nearby shifted uncomfortably. They, too, suspected the truth, though they dared not speak it.

Auborn's forces had grown unnaturally fast. His knights and mages came from Ubhosa, a southern territory known for strange allegiances.

His treasures and artifacts bore markings seen nowhere else. And then there was Magnus himself- the enigmatic, terrifying figure whose strength seemed bottomless.

It did not take a scholar to guess that Auborn's rise was not his own doing. The Dark Fate lurked in the shadows of his throne.

At last, Auborn's gaze fell on Auren.

The boy knelt in chains, disguised by magic as a mere level 27 knight, pathetically weak compared to the elite soldiers that flanked the king.

Yet even in disguise, something about him drew the eye. Perhaps it was the strange object lying beside him. A weapon no knight should ever carry.

A bazooka.

Auborn tilted his head, studying it as though it were some strange beast washed ashore. "I thought knights carried swords. What is this bizarre tube?"

He looked to his advisers, but each shook their head. None could explain it. The device bore no Divine Frame, no magical signature, nothing to suggest it was even an artifact.

To them, it was meaningless junk.

"Either way," Auborn said, flicking his wrist as if brushing dust from his cloak, "have this man hanged with the others. At dawn. Publicly. Let all of Austerra see what happens when they defy Auborn the Great."

The order hung heavy in the air.

He turned to his mages, satisfaction dripping from his voice. "Prepare the portal. This night is finished. I am going to bed and- "

"Nobody move!"

The voice cracked across the courtyard like a whip. Deep, commanding, impossible to ignore.

Every head turned.

Auborn stiffened, his face twisting into a scowl. "Who dares interrupt me?!"

The crowd parted as a figure emerged from the shadows, walking with calm, deliberate steps. His presence alone was enough to silence the restless whispers.

"It is I."

The man stepped into the torchlight, revealing a scarred face, sharp eyes, and a cloak marked with the sigil of the Wha-lah Empire. Gasps spread through the gathered nobles like wildfire.

Wilfred Cerb Vantis. Royal envoy. Trusted warrior of the empire.

But more than that-

*

Name: Wilfred Cerb Vantis

Level: 77

Title: Emperor's Hand

Class: Moon Piercer (Ascended)

*

The glow of his Divine Frame shimmered faintly around him, casting a silver hue across the courtyard stones.

"You…" Auborn's confident grin faltered, replaced with a shadowed frown.

The memory still lingered. The last time Wilfred had come to Austerra, he had dueled Auborn's father and defeated him soundly.

Aurelus had only escaped with the Dark Fate's intervention. That alone was proof of Wilfred's terrifying might. And now he stood here again, blades at his side, eyes burning with imperial judgment.

Behind him loomed two more figures. A mage with a long, trailing beard- Wardon- whose mere aura caused the air to vibrate with oppressive power.

And beside him, a towering woman named Tanya, her broad frame carrying a greatsword nearly as tall as herself. Both were level 65, formidable in their own right.

Even together, they were no match for Wilfred, but compared to Auborn's men, their strength was overwhelming.

The king's soldiers barely reached level 52 at their strongest. Without Mardonio free to fight, the scales tipped sharply against them.

Wilfred, Wardon, and Tanya were no ordinary warriors. They were the Empire's sharpened blades, experts dispatched only on missions of the highest importance.

And if they had come here, then Austerra's secrets were already under scrutiny.

Auborn tried to puff himself up, roaring to mask the tension in his chest. "Who do you think you are to defy me?!"

Wilfred ignored him. Slowly, deliberately, he unsheathed a dagger. Its silver edge glinted beneath the moonlight, gleaming like a shard of the heavens itself.

His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of command.

"This is your last chance. We finally got you." he said, eyes fixed towards the soldiers, though his words were meant for only one man.

"Come out and face me, Magnus of the Dark Fate. Your little scheme with that vile king ends here."

The entire courtyard froze.