Chapter Text
Enji didn’t know where the hell he was. He remembered falling asleep in the comfort of his traditional Japanese-style home. How he ended up with his hands roped together behind his back, trapped in what he could only call dimly lit dungeons, was beyond him. At first, he thought he had been dreaming when he opened his eyes to a field with long grass that billowed in the wind. Everything felt so real.
Enji soon figured out that the recent turn of events was indeed his new reality. A white rimmed gate portal appeared before him. He scrunched his brows together as he peered into the endless void. Perhaps he had taken too much time deciphering the quirk, for he began to get sucked into the void without a choice. Enji gritted his teeth and fired his flames into the void, except that it didn’t work.
It felt like he had been swallowed whole and spat back out as he tumbled into the white room. Enji grunted as his back hit the floor, wiping all the air out of him. He panted softly as he quickly got back to his feet and took in his surroundings. Enji’s eyes widened as he took in what later became known as the white room. The white room was a vast chamber of marble, its walls lined with thousands of portals rimmed in glowing white.
Elegant Grecian arches framed each portal, and the floors spiraled upward in an endless ascent. They were in a tower suspended in an alternate spatial domain. In addition, hundreds of civilians were standing together at the base. Enji gulped as he defensively clenched his fists, taking in the panicked crowd. Elves, Beastmen, Celestials, Orcs, Merpeople, and so many more mythical races filled the room.
He nervously looked down at his body, still human. Enji was wearing a loose, cream linen shirt, umber leather pants, and matching boots. He could tell he had lost considerable muscle mass, though. Enji wasn’t sure how he looked beyond that. Plus, he still couldn't use his quirk.
It was then that he appeared before them. The masked man who wore a white jester suit. As he floated to the middle of the room, an abnormal pressure filled the room, demanding everyone’s attention. The jester spread his arms like a marionette pulled by invisible strings, joints twitching unnaturally. His painted smile never moved, yet his voice slithered out, cold and theatrical.
“Welcome to Crownfall ,” he crooned, voice laced with venomous glee. “You are the lucky chosen.” A hush fell, heavy and unnatural. No one breathed. The jester’s grin widened, which caused his mask to morph with his expression, “Scurry along now to your kingdoms!” With a sudden crack of sound and a plume of black smoke, he vanished.
Silence shattered. Panic took root. The crowd turned erratic, stampeding toward the portals spiraling along the lower floors. Crownfall? The word echoed across the marbled room like a curse.
What the hell is Crownfall ? Enji held back from the portals on the lower floor and followed the crowd, which rose to the floors above. No one knew for sure if the portals on the higher floors meant the higher the difficulty. It was impossible to tell which portal was their kingdom . Enji entered a portal following the crowd of ten, one of the lower-level portals.
The consensus was that it was possible that a team was needed to survive. No one had said anything to him as he had joined the crowd of humanoid beings. As he was spat out face-first into the water in a dusky marsh, Enji knew it was not simply a terrifying dream. He frantically swam to the nearest patch of land within the bog. Enji panted heavily as he pulled himself out of the thick water.
The redhead scanned his surroundings, not finding any signs of the people he had followed. Shit! Somehow, he had ended up stuck in the middle of a foggy marsh all by himself. Enji scowled as he attempted to use his quirk once more and failed. Under normal circumstances, he was quite confident in himself and his strength.
That did not apply to his current situation. Trapped in the middle of nowhere without the use of a quirk, which he heavily relied on to get him out of such a situation, left him floundering. One of his boots came off his foot as it got stuck in the heavy mud that went up to his ankles. Enji scrambled to retrieve his boot. His face scrunched into a grimace as he felt some of the mud squish inside his shoe.
Enji needed to hurry as it was starting to get darker, and he wouldn’t be able to see in front of him. Who knew what dangers could lurk in such a place at nightfall? It was then that he noticed the dim glow in the nearby distance. Was it a torch? Or maybe it was a lantern.
Enji exhaled in relief, “Help! I’m over here!” Which was how he ended up surrounded by a group of reptilian soldiers. He froze as he took in their cobra-like heads and bodies, covered in green scales. Enji gulped at the spears they were holding. They yelled at him in a foreign dialect he couldn’t understand and forced him to follow them as they pushed him with the ends of their spears. Which was how he eventually ended up in the dungeons with other citizens who had also been captured by those they dubbed the Ssarkhen, a race of cold-blooded warriors with shamanic traits.
Enji didn’t know how many days had elapsed, but he knew it had been at least approximately five. The Ssarkhen woke them up each day by splashing them with cold water, which they were expected to drink off the stone floors. It was also at that same time that the Ssarkhens would dish out the only meal of the day. They would throw stale bread in between the bars. It was survival of the fittest, for there was never enough bread.
Enji was currently being punished for trying to fight a man who attempted to steal bread from the mother and child duo, each of whom had a singular horn. Which is why they roped his hands together behind his back and starved him for the last two days. Or at least they attempted to; he was given scraps of bread from the mother he had protected. He felt weak from the prolonged lack of food and water. His vision was starting to go blurry even if he was just sitting down.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ceiling shook as the earth trembled from the sudden onslaught. The panicked ringing of the bell signaling an attack followed shortly. A ripple of whispers stirred through the crowd in the dungeons as they heard the heavy footsteps above. Next were the screams that echoed from above. A massacre was taking place.
The prisoners rushed to the bars, “Let us out!” Imminent death loomed over their screams as they remained trapped in the dungeons during a foreign invasion. Their shouts remained unanswered until their voices ran dry. It was then that they heard the footsteps, and their vigor returned. They stuck their hands out from the bars, “Help us! Save us!”
“Do you really think he’s here?”
“It’s what was prothesized.” A heavy sigh was heard as the foreign invaders stood before the prisoners. A red-winged angel came to save them. Enji sat up in awe of the blonde-haired angel standing before them, dressed impeccably in a black suit tailored to perfection with illustrious gold lining. At his throat was a pristine white cravat that distinguished him as an aristocrat.
The red-winged angel was accompanied by an exhausted mage with sunken eyes, carrying a sword around his waist. The mage wore a black robe with a tattered green cloak draped over his shoulders and a saggy, pointed black hat. The angel scanned the room with a hand in his pocket, “I don’t see him.”
“He’s here, my mana has skyrocketed.” The angel hummed softly, and the room stilled as they waited for the chosen one. Enji tensed as he locked eyes with the angel; something about those golden eyes felt familiar. The red-winged angel of death used his large wings to cause a gust of wind that forcefully pushed the prisoners at the bars back and away from the bars of the cell. A chill went down his spine as the angel grinned at him.
Enji’s instinct screamed at him to run away. He strained against his rope restraints as the angel appeared before him in a sudden rush of wind. The angel smiled at him softly, in pity, for he had come to bring Enji to his death. Enji struggled against the angelic being lifting him from his spot on the ground. The angel clicked his tongue in irritation as he dusted the redhead off, “Gosh, what did they do to you, my king?” Enji froze as something sliced through his restraints before he could even react.
“How dare they treat our king in such a manner and have the gall to try and negotiate!” The angel spat, his voice cut through the room like a razor wrapped in silk. Before Enji could react, the angel pulled him tightly to his chest, his large wings unfurling in a protective arc. Enji stiffened as his complaints caught in his throat; his current position left Enji no choice but to cling to the unknown blonde-haired angelic being. The mage's gaze hardened as he took in the terrible condition of his king, “Ah, you’re right. Let’s hurry.”
Enji struggled against the unknown man before he felt a sudden momentum he had never felt before. In an instant, they were at the mage’s side. Enji felt nauseous as his senses struggled to keep up with such speed. His body went slack against the angel; he was about to pass out. Enji’s vision went black, and his consciousness barely remained, “S-save the child.”
The angelic man gripped his shoulders softly before Enji collapsed against him. The angel trembled with barely contained rage. “Let’s get him out of here,” his voice trembling like a prayer. A crushing pressure seeped into the room, turning the air thick and difficult to breathe in. The angel gripped his runaway king closer, “We’re going to burn this place to ashes for what they did to him.”
The prisoners couldn’t move. That threatening pressure radiated from the red-winged angel, the promise of ruin. “What child do you think he’s referring to?” The two left the gate open for the prisoners to escape. The silver-haired woman with the singular horn shoved her daughter into the mage’s arms, “Her name is Eri.” She limped away with the other escaping prisoners, leaving her child behind with the foreign invaders. Eri struggled against the mage as she cried out for her mother.
“Aizawa, use a sleep skill, we don’t have time.” The black-haired man nodded and quickly used his magic to put the child to sleep. He had simply been shocked at how quickly that mother had abandoned her child. Aizawa held her small body close. This child has a fearsome power . They moved quickly, with Aizawa using a speed skill to keep up with the enraged angel.
The legendary Grand Duke of the Beastmen kingdom, ranked number two on the top charts, was enraged. A Duke that had maintained his place in the top ten for ten years in a row. The closest to accomplishing his mission was Hawks. His fierce wings earned him the moniker the fastest man alive. A genius strategist who had protected their kingdom without a king for a decade.
A kingdom without a king was doomed to fail in days, let alone years. Kings were the players who made the game continue. They were the ones who organized their heroes to combat other kingdoms. Yet, despite being unable to attack other players, he conquered kingdoms. Hawks ruled the Beastmen and never lost a battle in years.
The young duke became one of the foremost politically connected men in the realm. Hawks became fluent in nearly all the languages of the foreign races. He also allowed conquered territories to maintain their individuality and cultures so long as they abided by Beastman rule. Hawks became known for expertly arranging marriages within the kingdoms he conquered and was commonly known as the Connector. This was how he was able to maintain close relations with the four neighboring kingdoms he conquered.
The four neighboring floating kingdoms in the sky had been enveloped by the Beastman kingdom, which resided in the middle of them as the fifth and final kingdom. The four kingdoms had become fiercely loyal towards what became known as the middle kingdom throughout the years. Hawks invested heavily in wizardry schools in each of the quarter kingdoms. He allowed scholarship programs to all races and conquered territories. The prestige of the Four Leaf Academies was known across the realm.
Aizawa had been one such mage who had attended in his early twenties after his kingdom too had been conquered. It was a simple trade, his loyalty for the skills to develop his power. Each mage was branded with an unbreakable contract over their heart to attend. This was how the Beastman kingdom had one of the strongest armies, primarily consisting of mages. Over time, the quarter kingdoms became an impenetrable defense system for the middle kingdom. Hawks had eyes and ears across the realm, and he was only a duke, a non-player character.
Over time, his reputation earned him the title of Grand Duke, one of five in the game. All by the age of twenty-three. Aizawa scrunched his tired eyes as they came into the light of the upper floors. He covered the young girl with his cloak; he didn’t want her to wake up for what was about to happen. As they entered the fore room, the captured duke of the Ssarkhens was shoved to his knees in the middle of the room.
The heroes of the Beastman kingdom surrounded the captured Ssarkhen royalty. Hawks covered his king’s ears, “Burn them.” The heroes immediately stilled as they saw their beaten and battered king. He didn’t stop as he sliced the Ssarkhen duke’s throat with one of his sharpened feathers. The Ssarkhen duke gargled in pain as his blood splattered across the checkered floor, and his body fell limp, hitting the floor in a sickening thud.
Hawks rushed towards the door. There had been a fatal flaw in the prophecy. He hadn’t realized his king was only a level eight. It made sense; he had known his king for a mere eight years. Hawks knew that time passed differently between their worlds, for it had already been over a thousand years since he had last seen his king.
By his calculations, it had been roughly over a decade in Enji’s world. The Beastmen kingdom had adapted to the other world’s calendar to predict when their king would return. Which was how they knew when he had, except that he never found his kingdom. It didn’t take long before a letter arrived with a vague description of a man the Ssarkhen claimed was the Beastman king. Luckily, such a threat could be considered an attack on the Beastman kingdom, so he was able to mobilize their forces.
Hawks frowned as he loosened his cravat to cover his king’s mouth. The smoke from the burning buildings overwhelmed the air. He used his large wings to clear a path for Aizawa behind him before he lifted off into the air, heading towards the central warship floating in the sky. There were at least a dozen flying warships that donned the deep crimson and gold Beastman banners as they invaded the Ssarkhen kingdom. Their hulls, carved from a dark ironwood, were reinforced with enchanted bone plating.
Tribal glyphs and snarling emblems were painted on the sides of each ship, etched with magic that acted as a protective barrier for the ships. Aizawa rushed to use a teleportation spell to get himself back on the warship. His mana was only doubled so long as he was next to his king. He had just enough mana to reach the ship with the young girl in tow before the effect ran off. Hawks was already barking demands for the heroes to fetch the healer on the warship by the time he arrived.
The heroes on the central ship immediately felt the buff that only their king could provide. Kings naturally boosted the stats of their heroes by half simply being near them. The higher the affection the king had towards a vassal, the stronger the boost could become. If their king died, their kingdom would fall, and so would most of the realm. Hawks walked Enji to the private quarters of the ship as the best healers followed him closely.
Hawks lightly put his King down onto the fluffy bed in the King’s quarters. An elderly healer examined the king first, kissing him tenderly on the forehead. Her loving kiss healed all of the external and internal injuries their king might have had. She nodded her head softly, “Our king is strong; he just needs to rest now.” Hawks nodded and motioned for the rest of the healers to exit the room with a wave of his hand.
He tenderly moved a fallen strand of red hair as he sat beside his king on the large bed. His king hadn’t changed a bit. Hawks bit his lower lip before he stood up and exited the room. As he closed the door behind him, he was quickly approached by the heroes on the warship, “Your grace! What do you want us to do with survivors?”
Hawks sighed, “Tell the lower kingdoms to figure it out. I don’t care what happens to the Ssarkhens. Wipe them off the map and use the land for all I care.” Usually, the Grand Duke was much more willing to provide mercy towards the conquered territories. However, he wasn’t in such a mood to be so kind towards the Ssarkhens.
“We're moving out, we need to be back in the Middle Kingdom before the king wakes up.” The crew members manning the warship nodded as they adjusted the settings to hyper speed. Aizawa glanced down at the burning Ssarkhen kingdom. They were still ranked twenty-fifth on the top charts. It had been a bold move on their end to kidnap the Beastman king and try to barter with them.
They got what was coming to them in the end. The exhausted mage held the young child close to him; she had an ability that only he would be able to control. Aizawa’s erasure ability was what had earned him the title of the Archmage in his early thirties. He hated that title; it forced him to work more than he preferred, which disturbed his sleep. Aizawa put a limitation enchantment on the young girl; she would need to train heavily before she could use her powers to their full potential.
….
Enji groaned softly as he opened his eyes. He blinked several times to clear his vision, which was blurry from his grogginess. Enji rubbed his face as he took in his new surroundings. He sat up in the canopy bed, which had crimson drapery that blocked out most of the light from the arched windows. The bed itself was covered with an assortment of fur blankets from unknown animals.
Enji cautiously exited the warmth of the bed, and his feet touched the cold stone tiles. He practically ran to the mirror on the right side of the room. Enji gasped in shock at his appearance. He lacked the muscles he had spent years training, and his features softened. Enji slammed his fist on the table; he appeared as he had in his early twenties.
Enji scowled as he looked down at the white linen nightdress he was in. Why the hell was he in a nightgown? It was then that the angel threw the door open, scanning the room seriously before his face softened as he met his distraught king’s eyes. Hawks smiled widely, “My king! You’re awake!”
Enji flinched as the angel quickly invaded his space. He took a cautious step back, but his foot caught on something, which caused him to stumble backwards. Gloved hands wrapped around his waist, stabilizing him, “Aw, I’m sorry, Endeavor-san, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Enji’s eyes widened as he quickly turned to face the winged angel, “W-wait, you know me?” Hawks knelt before him and kissed the back of his hand, “Of course I do, my king.”
Enji froze in place, and he looked around the empty room devoid of other people. Why did this unknown man keep calling him king? The angel’s smile faltered slightly; it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something else behind those golden eyes, something aching. Enji frowned; he didn’t like that expression on the angel’s face, and he didn’t know why.
The angel softly nuzzled his face against Enji’s hand, “Do you not remember me? After you raised me for eight years?” Those words hit Enji like a freight train, as the crushing reality of where he was finally dawned on him. Over ten years ago, after Touya’s death, he had turned to an MMORPG to cope with the pain from the loss of his child. His eye twitched; he hadn’t touched the game in over a decade, and yet somehow here he was.
Enji hadn’t even remembered what the game had been called. It was an MMORPG where the players created and built lofty kingdoms to defend against other players. His avatar was loosely based on what he had looked like back in his early twenties when he first played. His race had been randomly determined by the game afterwards, and he couldn’t recall what it had been. While he played, he had raised a small, abandoned child he had stumbled upon.
In a sense, he had created a substitute son whom he poured his love into. Enji had focused all of his affection on raising the young child, rather than establishing a kingdom. In the past, he had bought a starter pack that gave him enough gold to prioritize the child’s education and skills. Except that the child from before was no longer a child, but an accomplished young man who knelt before him. Enji gulped, “K-keigo, is that you?”
Keigo’s face lit up, and he nodded fervently in his excitement. Only the king could ever call the Grand Duke by name. “Yes, it’s me, my King,” he replied happily. Enji’s shoulders relaxed; he was safe. There was no way that young child could hurt him.
Keigo stood up from his kneeling position and threw himself into Enji’s arms, “I’ve missed you so much, Endeavor-san.” Enji chuckled softly and lightly patted the young man on the back. Yes, that is the child he remembered. As a child, Keigo had been incredibly bright, which was why Enji had sent the young boy off to the best schools in the realm. Yet, every time he returned, the young boy would immediately rush into his embrace.
The young man lifted him, and Enji scrambled not to fall; he was still a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound man. Yet Keigo lifted him like he weighed nothing and brought him back to the bed in the middle of the room. It was then that Enji heard the metallic scraping against the stone floors. Keigo lightly put his king back down in the large bed, “You still need to rest, my king.” Enji pursed his lips as he cautiously felt the weight around his ankle, which was unmistakably an iron shackle.
“Keigo, what is the meaning of this?” The young Grand Duke smiled softly, “Ah, forgive me for my impertinence, my king. Now that our King has finally returned, we couldn’t chance you running away again.” Enji eyed him cautiously as he tugged roughly against the chain connected to the shackle, “This is coming off, right?” Keigo shrugged and kissed Enji’s hand once more, “Get some rest, my king.”