Captain Itsuki Hiroto awoke to an urgent knock at his pavilion's door. The pale ember‑light of dawn seeped through the silken walls, mingling with the faint hum of magic in the air. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and swung his legs out of bed, only to find Sera already waiting, eyes wide.
"They're calling you to the Trial Chamber," she whispered, breathless. "The Demon King's Trial begins at first light. Everyone's… expecting you."
Hiroto groaned. "Trial? I already took an oath—whatever more do they want from me? I'm just a clerk."
Sera rolled her eyes. "This is The Trial"—spoken in reverent tones by every demon guard outside—"where you prove your worth to the realm. Or so they say."
Before Hiroto could protest, the pavilion flap rustled and Lady Azara Varn stepped inside, regal in silver‑edged robes. Her obsidian eyes—still soft from last night's ritual—locked on him.
"Your presence is required," she said quietly. "They await in the Hall of Echoes."
Hiroto pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hall of Echoes? Sounds ominous and deeply uncomfortable." He rose, slinging on his cloak. "Lead on."
They crossed the Citadel's winding corridors, the air thick with magic residue. Sera's footsteps tapped on stone; Azara's robes whispered in her wake; Hiroto's boots shuffled uncertainly.
At the Hall of Echoes—a domed chamber carved from onyx—the Trial relic awaited: a hexagonal stone pillar standing at its center, engraved with swirling runes. Flickering torchlight danced off its polished facets, and a low resonance vibrated through the floor.
Around the pillar, demon generals, scholars, and King Gerald watched with solemn expectation. At Hiroto's approach the hush rippled through the assembly.
Gerald stepped forward. "Captain Hiroto," he intoned, "you have served us with honor. Yet the covenants require proof: the Trial of the Seal. Touch the Pillar of Echoes and demonstrate—by relic reaction—your compatibility with our ancient wards."
Hiroto swallowed. He studied the pillar: no obvious trapdoors, no mystical flames—just silent stone. How do I… demonstrate?
Azara placed a hand on his arm. "They only request you lay your palm upon it. Then step back."
He nodded, heart thumping. "Right." He slid forward, heart pounding in rhythm with the runes' hum.
Hiroto extended a trembling hand and gently pressed his palm flat against the stone's cool surface. A buzz filled his veins, and for a heartbeat, he glimpsed swirling visions: dragon scales shattering, orbs flickering, and tavern laughter echoing like bells.
He jerked back, startled. That—feels weird.
The pillar's runes glowed bright white, then snapped in half with a resonant crack that reverberated like thunder in a cave. Dust drifted as the two fractured halves settled askew, runic light drifting outward.
Silence. The crowd froze. Even the torches dimmed.
Hiroto stared at his palm—no visible wound, only a faint rune‑shaped burn. He swallowed. "I… I think I broke it."
Azara gasped. "You did not merely pass the Trial. You surpassed it."
General Akriss bared his fangs in awe. "Only a being of pure heart could shatter the Pillar's ancient seal. This is divine proof!"
Magister Zoroth stroked his beard. "The Pillar's design is unbreakable by mortal strength. By destroying it, he has proven himself—beyond obligation—as truly worthy of our covenant."
Hiroto's ears rang. He'd tried to fail—tried to show no mastery—yet his accidental act became the highest demonstration of power. He backed away, eyes wide. "I… I didn't mean to—"
Gerald held up a hand. "Accident or not, the Trial is complete." His gaze softened. "You are forever entwined with our realm's fate. Wear that truth carefully."
The fractured Pillar's glow faded to embers. In the stunned hush, Gerald beckoned forward two silent acolytes carrying a simple throne of black glass and silver filigree. They set it upon the dais, and Azara drew a ceremonial crown—an iron circlet etched with the same runes.
"Please, be seated," Gerald invited. The assembly stepped back. "By ancient decree, the one who passes the Trial assumes the mantle of Protector of the Seal. Sit, that your oath bear witness."
Hiroto's knees weakened. Eyes burning with anxiety, he eased onto the throne. The crown hovered over his head, then settled gently. He closed his eyes as it clicked into place. The assembled demons knelt; their echoes filled the chamber in low chant.
He opened his eyes—half‑helpless, half‑mortified—as demons pressed forward, laying offerings of ember‑lotus tea, rune‑forged daggers, and polished obsidian shards at his feet.
Then, a sudden commotion at the hall's entrance: trumpets blared, and two flanking human guards scurried in, eyes wide.
The crowd parted, revealing a human delegation led by Ambassador Ravric and Chancellor Beltram—their faces drawn in confusion and awe.
Beltram rushed forward. "Your… Majesty?" He faltered at the sight: Hiroto crowned on a demon throne, demons kneeling.
Ravric, jaw agape, drew a ceremonial parchment scroll. "We come bearing the Empire's gratitude—" He froze, scandalized. "And… query your loyalty."
Azara's expression hardened. Gerald rose, staff glowing softly. "They witness what you wished to avoid." His voice thundered gently. "Captain Hiroto is Protector of the Seal—Protector of both realms' covenant. Let the record stand."
Beltram swallowed. He turned to Hiroto, uncertain. "Captain, we—We hardly expected this."
Hiroto's heart thundered. My fan club just became Emissaries of State. He tried to lift a hand. "I… can explain—"
A murmur rose from the kneeling demons: "Siege averted by him!" "Ritual passed by him!" And from the human guards: "Our seal's champion!" "Our sacred ally!"
Hiroto's mouth went dry. He glanced at Azara—eyes sympathetic—and Gerald—eyes grave—then at Virelya and Sera waiting just outside the kneeling circle.
He exhaled, shoulders heavy. "I'm… a clerk," he began, voice echoing in the stunned hush. "I… Truly am."
But the crown on his head and the kneeling masses rendered his words moot.
And so, sitting upon a throne not his by choice, Itsuki Hiroto—accidental hero, divine variable, Protector of the Seal—faced both realms in silent awe, the next chapter of his ridiculous destiny unfolding in the stunned silence of two mighty courts converging on one very reluctant soul.