Chapter 36..


    [ The Fallen Kingdom of Tania – Part I ]


    Far beyond the borders of Saita, across countless miles of abandoned roads and forgotten trails, lay the remains of a kingdom that once thrived—Tania.


    The journey there was a lonely one. The roads, once filled with merchants and travelers, were now desolate, overgrown with wild grass and cracked from years of neglect. There were no caravans, no guards patrolling the pathways—only the silent presence of nature reclaiming what was once hers.


    In the absence of humans, the animals had taken over. Deer moved cautiously between the trees, foxes darted through the underbrush, and crows circled above, their cries echoing in the vast emptiness. The scent of damp earth and fallen leaves filled the air, carried by the crisp winds of early autumn.


    But as the road neared its final destination, the scenery became bleak.


    From above, a sorrowful sight stretched across the land.


    The once-proud Kingdom of Tania lay in ruin.


    Thick, heavy clouds loomed above, blanketing the skies in shades of gray. There was no direct sunlight—only a faint, filtered glow that barely reached the ground, slipping weakly through gaps in the swirling storm above.


    The houses stood broken, some with their rooftops collapsed, others reduced to charred remains. The streets, though still used, lacked life—people walked through them, but their steps were slow, heavy, their faces devoid of expression.


    Life still clung to this place, but only barely.


    Survivors of war moved through their routines with mechanical precision, trying to force themselves into a new reality.


    Children played with makeshift toys crafted from scraps of wood and stone, their laughter hollow, lacking the joy it should have carried. Vendors, with carts half-empty, sold what little they had, their voices quiet, tired.


    This was no longer a kingdom.


    This was a graveyard still pretending to be a home.


    At the very center of it all stood the royal palace—once the pride of Tania, now a monument of destruction.


    From the outside, most of its structure still stood, but scars of battle marked it heavily. Sections of the outer walls had collapsed, deep cracks ran through its towering pillars, and some of its towers were missing their peaks, crumbling into uneven rubble.


    Inside, the damage was even worse.


    The grand halls, once polished to perfection, were now fractured and broken. The once-pristine marble floors had been shattered in places, leaving behind uneven terrain with deep holes—evidence of battles fought with supernatural strength.


    Massive cracks stretched across the walls, and in some areas, entire sections had crumbled to the ground, exposing the underlying stone. The air carried the scent of dust and old decay, mixing with the lingering traces of burnt wood and shattered stone.


    Even the very pathways meant for walking were unsafe—many were so heavily damaged that they seemed one wrong step away from collapsing entirely.


    And the people inside?


    The workers restoring the palace weren''t here by choice.


    Their expressions made that painfully clear.


    They moved sluggishly, their hands trembling as they carried stones, replaced fallen beams, and patched the cracks in the walls. Their faces lacked spirit, their eyes dull, filled with nothing but reluctance and quiet suffering.


    They worked not because they wanted to—but because they had no other option.


    Above them, even the grand ceiling of the palace was scarred.


    Once a masterpiece of elegant design, its royal engravings were now cracked, some portions even missing entirely. There were gaping holes, allowing thin streaks of light to pierce through, struggling to illuminate the darkened halls.


    A massive red carpet stretched across the floor, leading through the ruined corridors toward the throne room.


    Its once-luxurious texture was now torn and frayed, with scorch marks staining its edges. Along its sides, twin golden lines ran parallel to each other, meant to add a touch of grandeur—but even they had been marred by damage, their beauty diminished.


    Fragments of broken stone and shattered glass lay scattered over it, remnants of once-glorious chandeliers that had fallen during the battle. Vases that once held flowers of rare beauty were now nothing but jagged shards, their former splendor long gone.


    And then—


    At the very end of the hall, behind the broken doors, sat the throne room—the place most heavily affected by destruction.


    The royal carpet stretched forward, leading directly to where the throne should have stood in all its majesty.


    But—


    Even the throne itself had not escaped ruin.


    Once a masterpiece of craftsmanship, made from pure wood and gleaming copper, it now stood split down the middle, its two halves uneven, jagged.


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    Yet, despite this—


    Someone still sat upon it.


    The only reason it remained standing was because its base was firmly fixed into the ground. Even though the seat itself had been severed, its foundation had not crumbled.


    And the man sitting upon it?


    He was not the rightful king of Tania.


    He was a man of broad build, slightly overweight, with a long brown beard and pale skin. His deep green eyes gleamed with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement.


    He rested his right elbow on the armrest of the broken throne, his cheek pressed lazily against his clenched fist.


    A smirk pulled at his lips as he spoke in a tone filled with self-satisfaction—


    "A peaceful kingdom… in an era of supernatural power? What a ridiculous idea."


    A chuckle rumbled from his throat before he continued,


    "There is no such thing as safety in this world. Thinking you can live in peace forever is nothing but arrogance. Sooner or later, we all have to suffer."


    It was clear.


    This man now saw himself as the ruler of the fallen Kingdom of Tania.


    But before he could bask in his twisted sense of victory, a voice—one that had remained unseen until now—spoke.


    From somewhere in the shadows of the throne room, a calm yet firm voice answered,


    "Our agreement was to bring down the Kingdom of Tania—nothing more."


    The words cut through the air like steel, devoid of emotion, carrying only the weight of an unshaken warning.


    "But now, you have overstepped your bounds."


    A pause.


    Then—


    "Did you truly expect us to go to war with the Kingdom of Saita for your sake?"


    The unseen speaker''s voice was cold, resolute.


    "No matter what offer you make… none of us have any interest in facing a Crystal Knight."


    [ The Fallen Kingdom of Tania – Part II ]


    The self-proclaimed king of Tania sat upon the shattered throne, his confident smirk never fading. Even as he listened to the words spoken to him, his expression remained calm—almost amused.


    With a relaxed chuckle, he finally responded,


    "Crystal Knights do not exist. They are nothing but myths spread by the people of Saita to comfort themselves—a mere illusion of security. They are no more than fictional characters, fantasies with no proof of existence."


    His green eyes gleamed with arrogance as he leaned forward slightly.


    "Has anyone ever actually seen a knight clad in crystal armor? How does one even forge a suit of armor from crystal? It''s nonsense. The strongest knights in Saita are the Golden Knights, and the three of you could storm that kingdom on your own. I don''t understand why you hesitate so much."


    Another unseen voice—calm, steady—spoke from the shadows.


    "And do you truly believe that the entire world fears soldiers who do not exist? Just because you cannot see something does not mean it isn''t real. We will not take on a mission that may lead to our deaths."


    For the first time, the king''s smile faltered—just slightly.


    His fingers drummed lightly against the damaged armrest of his throne as he muttered, almost to himself,


    "The entire world fears them...? No one truly knows the limits of this world or the secrets it holds."


    A brief silence filled the chamber.


    Then, the same unseen voice spoke again.


    "Putting that matter aside—that boy, Fulan. You intend to give him three whole years of freedom? Why do you assume he won''t simply escape and abandon his clan?"


    The king''s smirk widened, his confidence unwavering.


    "Fulan isn''t that kind of person. He will succeed in completing his mission and return alive."


    His voice dropped lower, filled with twisted amusement.


    "And once he does, I will tame him—break him. I will make him my servant… no, my slave. And if he refuses? Then I will threaten to wipe out his entire clan and village again."


    A third voice—the last of the unseen figures—finally spoke, his tone just as calm as the others.


    "Three years… It would be unbearably dull for us to stay in this ruined kingdom for that long. We will leave tomorrow to continue our exploration of this world''s wonders. When the time draws near, we will return."


    With those words, the three figures began walking toward the large wooden doors, their presence still shrouded in mystery.


    As they reached the threshold, the king called out to them with a smug grin,


    "I know how precise you are when it comes to keeping appointments. But if you''re even a day late, Fulan will have already killed me by then, and our deal will be ruined."


    Two of the men exited first, stepping through the damaged, copper-adorned doors without another word.


    The last, however, paused just before leaving.


    His voice, thoughtful yet sharp, echoed through the throne room.


    "We''ll return a month or two before the deadline. But, Alaric—"


    A slight pause.


    "That boy… Fulan… He possesses a talent unlike anything I''ve seen before."


    His tone carried a strange mix of intrigue and wariness.


    "Somehow, he is able to copy or mimic Menma particles—or something similar. I don''t fully understand how his ability works, but… if he had been capable of copying one of our abilities on that day—"


    Before he could finish his sentence, the king closed his eyes.


    His expression remained calm, but there was an undeniable weight behind his voice as he interrupted,


    "Arisu, you''re overthinking things again."


    Then, he slowly opened his dark green eyes, exuding absolute confidence in the words he was about to speak.


    "The Nanimo Clan. A name that means nothing in an old language once known as Japanese. They were given this name because they are powerless, without talent, without ability."


    His smirk returned, his tone filled with contempt.


    "Some members of their clan can mimic abilities—but only for a short period of time. That is all that happened with Fulan. Nothing more."


    His fingers curled against the damaged throne.


    "They are nobodies. Like water, they have no color. Water has no true form, just like Fulan and his Clan—no presence, no history. Nothing. That is the meaning of his lineage."


    The man standing at the door remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.


    Then, he finally spoke.


    "My battle against Fulan was harder than my battle against the soldiers of this kingdom."


    His words hung in the air.


    "And though I humiliated him in that fight—dragging him through the dirt—he still forced me to take the battle seriously."


    His gaze lingered on the king for just a moment longer.


    "You underestimate him too much."


    Then—


    He stepped through the doorway, disappearing into the ruined halls.


    For a few seconds, silence settled within the throne room.


    Then, the king let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly.


    "Meaningless nonsense."


    Leaning back against his throne, his smile turned cold.


    "The members of his clan are so weak that they die when they copy abilities their bodies can''t handle."


    A quiet hum.


    "Erasing them—purging their useless genes from humanity—is the best solution."


    A Kingdom in the Clouds


    Above the ruined palace, a lone bird soared through the heavy, overcast sky.


    Its feathers, dark and sleek, fluttered against the cold winds as it glided effortlessly across the decaying kingdom below.


    The sky, thick with gray clouds, hung oppressively over the land, casting a dull, lifeless glow. Though no sunlight could be seen, faint streaks of light occasionally broke through, illuminating patches of despair and destruction.


    From this height, Tania''s ruins stretched endlessly, a testament to the war that had shattered it.


    The damaged buildings, the scarred roads, the defeated people—


    Everything spoke of a kingdom clinging desperately to its past, unable to move forward, unable to heal.


    And as the bird flew farther, the scene beneath it began to fade.


    Like the passing of time, like the shifting of memories—


    The image of this fallen kingdom took shape, providing answers to many questions.


    But even now—


    Shadows still covered parts of the picture.


    For every truth uncovered, countless more questions remained.


    -----


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