The Saint King (Holy King) 2

+++

The carriage wheels jolted over the rugged terrain as Doyun peered through the dusty haze towards the distant horizon.

As they neared the border, Labyrinthe’s towering walls gradually came into view.

‘Impressive fortifications.’

Doyun recalled the Amasvin Territory where he had accidentally demolished the gate with his Overlord’s Divine Palm during that early incident. These walls matched Amasvin’s formidable height and thickness.

‘And they supposedly encircle the entire border, he said.’

For such a monumental construction project to be completed within a single monarch’s reign without destabilizing the nation…

Those soaring ramparts felt like tangible embodiments of Labyrinthe’s national might and the Saint King’s administrative prowess.

Enhancing his vision, Doyun scrutinized the gates – firmly shut while the statuesque Monkeyking guards on duty maintained crisp, unwavering discipline even under peacetime conditions.

He sensed securing an audience would not come easily.

As the sentries noticed their approach, Doyun disembarked from the carriage.

“Your fare.”

Flicking a coin over with his thumb.

The coachman, until then displaying utmost courtesy befitting a gentleman, suddenly wondered if some ruffian had boarded by mistake. Yet upon glimpsing that luminous glint of gold in his palm, his jaw dropped open comically.

He swiftly prostrated himself reverentially before Doyun.

“W-, Why thank you most generously, good sir! If I may inquire, when might you require my services again? I shall await your return right here!”

“No need – you may be on your way.”

“B-, But still…”

Leaving the crestfallen coachman behind, Doyun strode towards the gates, anticipating a protracted affair unsuitable for awaiting carriages.

As he approached, the gatekeepers bellowed sonorously:

“Halt!”

He came to a stop.

“The borders remain sealed due to war! Turn back at once!”

Well-trained and steely-eyed Monkeyking soldiers – despite being mere gatekeepers, their commanding presences and martial auras proved undeniably formidable. Bribes would likely prove ineffective.

Instead, Doyun produced his guild sigil from his bosom.

“An Apostle of the World Tree Guild. As an envoy of the Alliance, I have come to visit your royal city.”

Channeling his mana into the sigil caused it to emit a distinctive luminescent pattern – an authentic World Tree crest impossible to forge or manipulate.

His unexpected identity prompted visible starts from the guards.

“…The World Tree?”

The World Tree Guild ranking among the continental top three juggernauts, no less.

Moreover, an Apostle authorized as an Alliance envoy undoubtedly represented elite, senior-most ranks.

“…One moment, if you would.”

One sentry entered to verify while the others remained on watch. Confirmation came swiftly.

A brief commotion arose among the gatekeeper squad, but no admission approval came down – an uninvited guest, in other words.

Not an uncommon occurrence during wartime – likely an envoy the Alliance had dispatched to plead their case despite the king’s prior refusal of entry.

The guards responded by protocol accordingly:

“The borders remain sealed. My apologies, but we cannot permit your passage.”

“…I understand.”

Without further objection, Doyun quietly withdrew.

Relieved by his acquiescence despite his evident senior status, the sentries inwardly exhaled – an Apostle still grounded in practicality, blessedly.

As he walked away from the walls, Doyun murmured to himself:

‘They won’t even permit Alliance envoys through the gates…’

A tangible glimpse into the Saint King’s unyielding resolve never to abandon Labyrinthe under any circumstances.

Once out of the gatekeepers’ line of sight amidst the surrounding forestry, Doyun spoke aloud:

“Luna.”

Turning, Luna materialized silently beside him.

Unless specifically instructed otherwise, she never strayed from Doyun’s presence for even a moment.

“Can you keep pace above the walls?”

She nodded wordlessly – an effortless feat given Luna’s prowess.

“…Very well.”

Doyun felt slightly sheepish posing that query, uncertain why he had even asked – perhaps just desiring a glimpse of her visage once more.

Altering his course, he headed towards the distant ramparts.

For a fleeting moment, Luna silently observed his retreating back – that brief exchange filling her with profound contentment despite her perpetually icy, impassive exterior.

Soon after, she vanished without a trace, blending back into the shadows to discreetly trail behind Doyun.

+++

Arriving in Muspelheim’s capital, Doyun made his way towards the royal palace.

“Hmm…”

He surveyed his surroundings intently.

The central avenue extending outwards from the palace symbolized monarchical authority.

Immensely tall and spacious, lined on both sides by opulent boutiques – more akin to an imperial capital’s grand boulevard than some paltry duchy’s domain.

‘Rather tranquil for ostensible wartime conditions.’

The citizens’ faces too brimmed with vibrance and smiles undiminished.

Implying either minimal additional wartime conscriptions or sustainable enough to avoid strangling public morale – testaments to Labyrinthe’s robust national stability.

Doyun strode boldly down the central avenue’s heart, his grey traveling cloak fluttering behind as Yupiter’s pommel glinted under the sunlight.

Monkeyking passersby stole furtive glances at this strikingly well-equipped, dignified stranger in their midst.

Nearing the palace gates, Doyun spotted an ornate carriage emblazoned with the Alliance crest awaiting ahead.

‘Actual Alliance envoys, unlike my deception at the borders.’

Come to petition the Saint King’s participation in earnest.

Yet the situation appeared grim:

“I beg you, permit us entry! Truly, time proves of the utmost essence!”

“His Majesty remains preoccupied preparing for war. Labyrinthe’s gates shall not open.”

“This war decides the Alliance’s very survival itself!”

“His Majesty’s sole concern lies with Labyrinthe. Leave at once.”

“I implore you!”

As Doyun strode past the envoys prostrating themselves before the gates, he rolled his tensing shoulders.

‘…This doesn’t sit well.’

To reiterate – the Saint King’s convictions deserved utmost respect.

Yet to wield Hecreaux’s very power as the means of upholding those patriotic beliefs while utterly disregarding Enoch’s legacy championing the Alliance’s cause…

Doyun felt his brow furrowing, jawline clenching tighter with each step.

Silently brushing past the groveling envoys and obstructing Monkeyking guards alike:

“Hm?”

Those palace sentinels too moved aside with fluid ease despite their startled protestations.

“Wh-, What…?!”

The guards faltered in confusion – he had slipped through like smoke on the wind, too swiftly for any attempt at obstruction despite no overt haste.

“You there, halt!”

Ignoring their shouts, Doyun stood before the immense palace gates matching the sovereign’s authority – their sheer magnitude rivaling the central boulevard itself.

“Proceed any further and you shall be detained!”

“Conduct yourself with proper decorum befitting a visitor!”

For a fleeting moment, Doyun turned to regard them impassively.

“So I shall be granted an audience if I follow ‘proper procedures’?”

“Wh-, What did you…?”

Facing forward once more towards the gates:

This figure commanded authority rivaling even the Archmage’s – one of the Alliance’s paramount Two who answered to none, not even the Lion King himself.

‘Clearly any polite overtures would prove futile.’

His palm gently pressed against the gates.

‘No time for obstinate games – urgency grips the hour.’

No need for ostentatious stances or arduous focus – mana manipulation had become natural as breathing itself.

The mana pulsing through his palm roiled intensely.

Meanwhile, one of the envoys who had witnessed Doyun’s fleeting appearance felt a nagging sense of recognition:

“That man…”

Where had he seen him before?

Yet before recollecting Doyun’s identity, and before the spear-wielding guards could reach him:

[Overlord’s Divine Palm]

Zzzzziiiick-

Elaborate fractal-like fissures spiderwebbed outwards across the gates’ surface.

Simultaneously, the envoys’ and guards’ jaws dropped open in matching shock.

Zzzzoooooong-!!

Accompanied by a thunderous boom and shockwave, thick gate shards exploded inwards into the palace grounds.

“Uah, Uwaaaaah!!”

“Wh-, What in…?!”

“Kyaaaaaah!!”

Terrified screams erupted from all directions as courtiers stumbled in blind panic amidst the billowing dust clouds.

Through that obscuring veil, Doyun strode steadily inwards.

Scrambling guards hastily shouted:

“I-, Intruder! The Demon Lord’s forces!”

“Defend the palace! Form defensive lines!”

“All civilians, evacuate to the inner chambers!”

“Kyaaaaaah!! We’re under attack!!”

Amidst the utterly chaotic pandemonium enough to unnerve any onlooker, an eerie calm pervaded Doyun’s vicinity alone.

Viscous mana gently suppressed the swirling dust plumes encircling him.

Gazing upwards towards the towering central spire – undoubtedly the throne room housing the king’s royal audience chambers.

‘Come forth.’

Overbearing airs of the Hecreaux style radiated outwards from Doyun’s physique, radiating in all directions.

‘Let us converse.’

An overt provocation akin to issuing a summons.

While undetectable to ordinary folk, the mana-trained knights felt their bodies stiffen instinctively in dread:

“Hurahk!”

“A-, A monster…!”

“St-, Stay focused! Only one adversary! We are Labyrinthe’s Royal Knights!”

Then:

“For His Majesty, fight with valor and-…”

That baritone proclamation reverberated like a physical blow concussing their skulls.

[Stand down, all of you.]

Doyun glanced skywards sharply.

Lowering his stance, he extended a mana-charged palm overhead.

[Overlord’s Divine Palm]

A gargantuan spectral fist materialized, accelerating towards his upraised palm.

[Hecreaux Style Martial Arts – True Strike]

Kwaaaaaaaaahng-!

The earth beneath Doyun’s feet cratered explosively as the shattered gatehouse debris launched airborne. The entire palace shuddered, heaven and earth alike quaking.

Shrill screams drowned under that ear-splitting thunderclap as all staggered, unable to withstand the devastating shockwaves.

Doyun’s joints popped audibly under the immense recoil strain.

“Nngh…!”

He grunted, struggling against that overbearing counterforce weighing him down.

Even the towering silhouetted figure backlit by the sun seemed caught off guard, unable to fathom Doyun brazenly opposing him as he murmured in wonderment:

“Nnhh…”

Leaping backwards to increase their separation.

Krooong.

He positioned himself protectively before the fallen knights, his broad back towards Doyun.

One sentry gazed up at him in awestruck reverence:

“Your Majesty…!”

Framed against the brilliant sun, that imposing silhouette regarded Doyun regally with an imperious poise.

“Not long ago.”

That rich baritone resonated outwards from the 3m titan, exuding absolute authority looking down upon all beneath him – as if outright refusing any insubordination.

“Intelligence reported a Vanguard General employing martial arts reminiscent of my own.”

Despite his backlit silhouette, that open stance revealed his chiseled fighter’s physique in sharp detail.

Doyun gazed upwards appraisingly.

Yet even while facing him directly, the man’s towering stature necessitated an ever-so-slightly elevated chin to maintain eye contact – an utterly natural demeanor utterly befitting one born to lead.

“Speak.”

He commanded imperiously, yet without any hint of ostentation – the unquestioned bearing of an undisputed sovereign.

“Where did you acquire that martial art?”

The Saint King himself – one of the Alliance’s paramount Two – addressed Doyun directly.