That Time I Got Reincarnated as a King (Old Version)

The forest sun rose soft and amber, filtering through the canopy with a kind of reverence. Emberleaf stretched beneath it—no longer a wild camp or scrappy frontier outpost, but a village in full rhythm.

Goblins bustled without needing orders. A pair of builders were already arguing over measurements for a new watchtower. A trio of farmers herded spirit-chickens into coops made from thornbark and enchanted rope. Everywhere Kael looked, something was in motion—something that didn't need his hand to move anymore.

He stood near the edge of the plaza, watching it all.

Rimuru floated beside him, gently glowing, her surface flickering through a soft rainbow as she hovered near a group of slimelings. They lined up in a neat row before her—well, as neat as blobs could be—and pulsed excitedly every time she demonstrated a new maneuver. Kael chuckled as one tried to mimic her mid-air spin and ended up bouncing into a tool crate.

On the far side of the square, Nyaro prowled the perimeter, not as a predator—but as a sentinel. He circled once, then leapt smoothly onto the roof of the forge and laid down in the sun, tail flicking contentedly. Even the goblins barely looked up anymore. He was part of this place now.

Kael moved toward the eastern side of the village, where the school tent stood.

Inside, Nanari stood over a small chalkboard, gesturing dramatically with a wand-like mana stylus while half a dozen goblin students scribbled feverishly in fireproof notebooks. Her goggles were askew, and her sleeves were covered in glowing residue from an earlier spell mishap. She glanced up when Kael appeared at the entrance.

"Morning," she said. "We've already had two mana burns and one accidental teleport to the bakery tent. Progress."

"So, normal Tuesday," Kael smirked.

"Exactly."

He stepped back outside and took a slow breath, the air rich with moss and baked root.

The village didn't need him to survive anymore.

Which meant, maybe… it was time.

He glanced toward the southern trail—the old road leading back to Emberhollow's capital. A flicker of hesitation passed through him, but Rimuru floated back over and nudged his shoulder with a soft pulse.

"Thinking about it?" Nanari asked, appearing beside him with a steaming mug of beetleleaf tea.

"I think I should visit them," Kael said. "Check in. Reconnect."

Nanari tilted her head. "You going as the prince… or as the king of a goblin town?"

"As myself. With Rimuru. And Nyaro."

"Not subtle."

"Not trying to be. Just… showing them what we've built."

Nanari handed him the tea. "You've earned that. Just don't let them rope you into a ball again."

"No promises."

The next morning, they set out.

The road to Emberhollow wound through hills striped with shadow and sunlight. Rimuru bobbed gently beside Kael, her surface gleaming sky-blue with excitement, while Nyaro padded ahead with feline grace, occasionally glancing back as if to make sure Kael was still there.

By the time the city's red-tiled roofs came into view, Kael had pulled up his hood—not to hide, but to take a breath.

The gates opened slowly, guards peering with uncertainty until they recognized the golden panther and the boy at his side. A murmur rippled through the watch post as Kael stepped forward, not as a prince returning, but as someone unfamiliar and newly grown.

Inside, the capital buzzed with its usual warmth—fruit vendors calling, children running between archways, nobles pretending not to stare.

And then: "Kael?!"

Garron's voice rang out, followed by a blur of armor and disbelief. He pulled Kael into a firm, back-thumping hug. "You're taller. And somehow more terrifying."

"You should see me during tax season," Kael smirked.

Lorent arrived next, walking with the posture of someone used to command—and froze mid-step when he saw Rimuru sitting confidently on Kael's shoulder.

"…That slime has a flower crown."

Rimuru chirped and gave a diplomatic spin.

"Of course she does," Lorent muttered, before breaking into a rare, genuine smile. He held out a hand. Kael shook it, surprised by the unspoken respect in the grip.

They walked together through the palace corridors, old memories flickering back. Kael found the place smaller than he remembered. Or maybe he had just grown too much to fit the same halls.

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Royal staff bowed, some unsure whether to treat him as prince or something… different. Rimuru charmed every servant she passed, while Nyaro trailed behind like a golden specter, drawing wary stares from the guards.

When they reached the royal atrium, one of the younger squires whispered, "Is that really him?"

Kael turned, raised an eyebrow, and said with a grin, "You'll know for sure if the roof catches fire."

The tension cracked, and laughter followed.

But Kael's smile faded as he looked ahead—toward the throne room, and the Queen waiting beyond.

The past wasn't finished with him yet.

The palace balcony caught the last breath of daylight. Shadows stretched long across the rooftops of Emberhollow, and the distant ridgelines smoldered in copper and rose. A low ironwood table rested between two cushioned chairs, its surface set with an elegantly simple tea service—porcelain cups painted with feathered flamebirds and trailing vines.

Queen Elyra poured quietly, her movements graceful and deliberate. Steam curled between them like threads of unspoken memory.

Kael sat across from her, his hands wrapped around a warm cup. Rimuru rested in the Queen's lap, purring softly—more a plush guardian than a slime. Nyaro lay at Kael's feet, his golden tail twitching against the stone tiles.

"You remembered," Kael said, breaking the silence. "Jasmine with honeyroot."

The Queen nodded once. "You never asked for it. But you always drank it faster than the others."

"Feels strange. Sitting here like this. Not as a prince. Not really."

She studied him. "You never were just a prince."

"Does it still feel… strange? Knowing what I told you?"

Elyra looked toward the horizon. "Strange, yes. But not untrue. You were born here. But your eyes have always belonged to another world. Now I just know why."

"I thought it might change how you saw me."

"It did." She turned back to him. "It made me understand."

Kael stared into his tea. "Sometimes I wonder if this was fate… or just a bad joke by whatever god was bored enough to throw me here."

The Queen didn't laugh. She just smiled, faint but real. "Maybe it doesn't matter why. Maybe what matters is what you choose to do with it."

"Then I choose to make it count."

Rimuru pulsed once in approval.

"And you already are," the Queen said.

They sat for a moment longer—no formalities, no weight of the court, just a mother and her son sharing quiet under a sky that had seen them grow in different ways.

The Queen sipped her tea once more, then set the cup down gently on the lacquered tray. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face—rare for her, and rarer still in front of Kael.

"There's something else I wanted to tell you."

Kael looked up.

She turned her gaze toward the night sky, where the stars had begun to bloom one by one.

"I'm expecting," she said softly.

Kael blinked. "What?"

"A child," she said, her voice warm and quiet. "A daughter. The physicians confirmed it last month."

"A little sister?"

The Queen smiled. "It seems the palace will have laughter again soon. And chaos. And crumbs everywhere, I suspect."

Kael's expression shifted—surprise, then wonder, then something quieter.

"I… wasn't expecting that. I didn't think you'd want to go through raising another royal."

"I didn't," she admitted. "Not at first. But things change."

She reached over, placing a hand over his.

"Watching you grow into who you are—who you were always meant to be—it reminded me that love doesn't diminish when shared. It expands. Like fire lighting more torches."

"Does she… know?"

The Queen chuckled. "She kicks like she does."

They both laughed, and the tension that had lingered between court politics and distant worries finally melted.

Rimuru, still nestled comfortably in the Queen's lap, gave a little bounce of approval.

"I think she approves," Kael said.

"I'll take that as a royal blessing," the Queen replied.

"I'll protect her," Kael said. "No matter what. She's family… and I know what it's like to grow up with the weight of the world pressing down. She won't face that alone. Not while I'm here."

The Queen's expression turned tender. She didn't speak, but her eyes glistened.

"I just wonder who her favorite big brother will be…"

The Queen raised a brow. "You're already betting against Garron and Lorent?"

"Please," Kael said, smirking. "I've got a slime, a panther, and a village of goblins. I'm practically cheating."

Rimuru pulsed in triumphant agreement.

They laughed again—quietly, but fully. And for a brief, perfect moment, the wariness of their lives gave way to something simple.

Hope.

The council chamber of Emberhollow was smaller than Kael remembered. Or maybe he was just taller now—eight years old and full of strange wisdoms.

The long obsidian table gleamed under crystal light. Around it sat familiar faces—advisors, knights, and stewards who had once loomed like giants when Kael was still in silk diapers. Now, many of them looked at him with curiosity. Not suspicion. Not fear. Just… curiosity.

His father sat at the head of the table, one hand on his chin, the other tracing absent patterns on the wood grain. Queen Elyra stood nearby, arms folded but posture relaxed.

Kael took the seat they'd saved for him, Rimuru gently hopping onto the polished surface before curling into a glowball of calm. Nyaro sat behind Kael's chair, tail flicking like a pendulum.

A steward cleared his throat. "Prince Kael, we welcome your presence. Word of Emberleaf's growth has reached us—and beyond."

Another noble, older and lined with silver in his beard, added, "We've heard reports. A self-sustaining village, peaceful demi-human contact, goblins with jobs. Even rumors of… a tavern?"

"Yeah. And our barkeep doesn't even water down the drinks," Kael grinned.

There was a faint ripple of laughter. Even the King allowed himself a smile.

But then the room shifted. A younger advisor, fidgeting with his robes, spoke more carefully.

"Still… there are concerns. If rumors spread too far—especially to other kingdoms—some may see Emberleaf's autonomy as a challenge."

Kael tilted his head. "We're not challenging anyone. Just building a home."

"And that's the part that makes them nervous," the Queen said softly. "A home that thrives without their hand. That writes its own rules."

"Then let them be nervous," Kael nodded slowly.

Before anyone could respond, the chamber doors creaked open. A courier stepped in—young, breathless, holding a sealed scroll marked with the sigil of Emberleaf.

Nanari's seal.

Kael stood and crossed the room, broke the wax, and read silently.

Then he looked up. "There's been an increase in scrying attempts near Emberleaf. Magic surveillance—someone's watching us."

The room stilled.

A cold ripple moved through the air like fog behind closed doors.

Kael folded the scroll. "We'll handle it. Quietly. But we're not alone anymore. And that makes us a target."

The King looked at him, thoughtful. "Do what you must to keep your people safe. But remember—you're part of something larger now."

Kael met his gaze. "I haven't forgotten. I've just expanded the borders."

The King didn't smile this time.

But he nodded.

And Kael took that as permission.