The Lust System: Hunt beyond worlds

Inside the royal castle, war looms...

The air inside the war chamber was tense. Maps lay scattered on the table, candles flickered with each hurried breath, and outside, the castle guards were doubling their patrol.

Two high officials stood in front of Clinton, who sat silently on the edge of a long wooden table.

One of them, a short man with sharp eyes and a wrinkled forehead, was Advisor Mertin. The other, tall and strong with a scar across his cheek, was Defense Minister Halvor.

Mertin stepped forward, his voice shaking. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"My Lord Clinton... it has happened. The countries around us—Draxia, Austerin, Bellshade and Luminia—they’ve all joined hands. They are preparing to invade Velmora together."

Clinton’s eyes narrowed. "All of them? At once?"

Halvor slammed his hand on the table. "Yes! And what’s worse—why now? That’s what we don’t understand! The king died months ago. We were vulnerable back then. Why wait this long?"

Mertin shook his head, clearly panicking. "We checked everything. No signs, no hints, no spies we caught. It’s as if they waited on purpose. But... why?"

Halvor’s voice dropped low, filled with worry. "We’ve sent scouts. The enemy armies are already moving. If they attack from all sides, we don’t stand a chance in open war."

Clinton stood up, calm but firm.

"So you’ve come to me... because I was the king’s second son. Because my father—before he died—chose me as the last hope of Velmora."

They both nodded. Halvor looked straight into Clinton’s eyes.

"Yes, my Lord. You’re our only chance now. What do we do?"

The room fell silent. Clinton didn’t reply right away. His hands tightened into fists. His father had left him this broken crown, this dying kingdom, and now... a storm of war.

Clinton turned away from the table, walking slowly toward the tall window. Sunlight spilled across the floor, golden and quiet—too calm for a day like this.

"I know what people think," he said softly. "They call me the king’s favorite son. The chosen heir. The last hope of Velmora..."

Mertin and Halvor looked at each other, staying quiet.

Clinton sighed, resting a hand on the window frame.

"But let me be honest with you both." He turned to face them, eyes clear but tired. "I’m not capable of saving this kingdom. I barely know how to hold a sword properly, let alone lead armies. I know my limits."

Halvor frowned. "But—"

Clinton raised a hand. "No. I won’t pretend. This isn’t a time for pride."

He paused for a moment before saying the next name.

"Bring Christopher."

Mertin blinked. "Christopher...? You mean your elder brother? The adopted one?"

Clinton nodded. "Yes. The one no one took seriously because he wasn’t born royal. The truth is... he’s smarter than anyone in this castle. He’s calm. He learns fast. He sees things others don’t. I don’t care what kind of power has, but I know one thing—if there’s anyone who can stop this war, it’s him."

Both ministers looked stunned.

"I’m postponing this meeting," Clinton said. "Call him. We’ll speak again when he arrives."

The men bowed and quickly left the chamber.

---

That evening, Clinton sat alone in his room. The sky outside was growing dark, clouds rolling in like slow waves.

He looked at his reflection in the glass window, then down at his own hands.

"I’m not made for this," he whispered. "But Christopher... ever since I arrived in this world, he’s been different from others. He doesn’t panic. Doesn’t brag. Doesn’t act like a hero."

Clinton gave a tired smile.

"Sometimes I wonder... was I ever meant to be a prince? Or was he the one who deserved this life all along?"

His fingers tapped the window gently.

"You’re not just my brother anymore, Christopher. You’re the only one who can carry this kingdom now."

The tall doors creaked open. A cold gust of night air followed Christopher as he stepped into the grand hall. His eyes scanned the room quickly, but his steps slowed as he caught sight of Clinton standing alone at the far end.

Clinton turned and smiled, a little awkwardly. "Christopher."

"New king," Christopher greeted, with a small bow.

Clinton chuckled and waved him off. "Don’t start that formality crap. You’re my brother. I’m still younger. You can call me by name."

Christopher gave a small smirk. "I wouldn’t dare."

They both shared a light laugh. But there was tension under it—a storm waiting behind a curtain of calm.

---

Later that night, the war council room was alive with tension. A long stone table stretched across the chamber, the map of the continent laid out over its polished surface. Candles flickered in all corners, their light bouncing off armored plates and sharp eyes.

Clinton sat at the head. Christopher stood just behind him, arms folded, his gaze sharp and quiet. The seats were filled with generals, ministers, high-ranking nobles—even royals. Everyone was present.

Except one.

The queen.

She hadn’t been invited.

Christopher noticed the empty seat without asking. His focus was already on the map.

He finally spoke, voice calm but cutting through the tension like a blade. "What changed?"

Everyone turned.

Christopher walked slowly around the table, his eyes on the borders drawn on the map. "Why now? Why are all the countries uniting to attack Velmora... especially Luminia? They’re our oldest enemies. If they wanted war, they had the perfect chance the moment the king died. So why now? Why wait months?"

Defense Minister Halvor cleared his throat. "Maybe... maybe they were preparing. Gathering forces."

Christopher nodded slightly. "That’s possible."

He paused. His hand rested on the edge of the map.

"But maybe," he said slowly, "they couldn’t. Something—or someone—is stopping them."

The room went silent.

Even Clinton raised his head, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" a noble asked.

Christopher turned to face the table. His eyes calm. Cold. Confident.

"If we are in a defensive position," he said, "then the best defense... is offense."

The room erupted into whispers. Confused glances. One of the generals stood up. "Wait—what are you suggesting? That we attack Luminia? First? Are you serious?"

"Yes," Christopher said plainly. "Before they strike. We strike first."

"But what if the others follow? If we’re busy attacking Luminia and the rest of the allied nations join in—"

"Then we will adapt," Christopher interrupted. "But waiting here like sheep before the slaughter? That’s not strategy. That’s suicide."

Everyone went quiet.