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

Morning in Emberleaf carried a rare hush. Outside Gobrinus's tavern, dew glistened on leaf-strung banners and empty mugs, the afterglow of another loud night. The village buzzed softly—not with celebration, but with calm vigilance.

Kael stood at the edge of the tavern patio, one boot resting on the stone step, eyes scanning the workers unloading fresh timber across the plaza. Rimuru floated silently above his shoulder, her usual pastel blue dulled to a cautious gray. Nyaro lay nearby, tail still, ears twitching.

He didn't smile.

The letter from Emberhollow still sat folded in his cloak.

"Scrying activity rising. Someone is watching you. Be careful, Kael."

And now he was watching back.

"Great Sage," he whispered, eyes locked on a man stacking beams too perfectly.

Great Sage:
"Subject identified: unknown male. Tunic enchantment matches court-grade concealment. Passive mana trail contains layered sound-glyphs. Scrying-grade. Probability of covert surveillance: 92%."

Kael's jaw tensed. "So he's not hiding well enough."

Nanari joined him without needing to be called. She carried a clipboard under one arm and a rolled blueprint under the other.

"That him?" she asked, voice low.

Kael nodded. "Too neat. Too graceful. He's not even sweating."

"Court spy?"

"Or worse. If he's gathering audio, then he's not just reporting. He's listening. Stealing context."

Rimuru flared gently.

"Great Sage," Kael muttered again. "Is he recording right now?"

Great Sage:
"Confirmed. Detection thread activated. Mana signature syncing to an internal crystal node."

Nanari's lip curled. "Wanna hit him with a cursed beetle? I have one."

Kael didn't laugh. "Let's do it cleaner than that."

He stepped off the tavern stoop, boots crunching against the dew-damp ground. Across the plaza, the infiltrator adjusted his grip on a timber beam—subtle, too subtle. His posture shifted, his breath changed. He knew he was being watched.

Kael didn't break stride. He tilted his head just slightly, voice low.

"Rimuru," he said. "You feel that?"

She bobbed in the air once, then pulsed a determined orange.

"Good," Kael muttered. "I'm going to burn a trap into the dirt. I'll need a mana boost."

"Start drawing from the ambient mana," he continued. "Low pull, stable tether. When I give the word, Predator mode—absorb anything that's loose and feed it into me. We're going loud."

Rimuru glowed a brighter gold now, already beginning to pull wisps of surrounding energy toward herself, threads of power coiling like mist around her form.

Nanari glanced between them, recognizing the rhythm instantly. "We're doing this?"

Kael nodded once, his gaze never leaving the infiltrator. "Time to see what a spy does when the fire closes in."

The plaza looked normal from the outside—bustling goblins, drifting embers from the tavern chimney, the quiet clink of breakfast mugs. But Kael could feel the tension ripple beneath the surface like a current waiting to crack open.

He took one more step into the center.

"Now," Kael whispered.

Mana surged through him. Rimuru flared gold and green behind him—Predator active, drawing stray ambient mana into a dense spiral, feeding Kael like a siphon.

The air snapped.

"Fire Prison."

A glowing crimson circle erupted beneath the infiltrator's boots. Lines of runes shot outward, then curved up into a dome of burning glyphs. The spy spun around too late—flames locked into place, forming a jagged shell of fire around him.

Gasps echoed from nearby workers. A few goblins scrambled backward. One dropped an entire tray of cooked roots.

Within the dome, the infiltrator didn't panic.

He just smiled.

Kael narrowed his eyes. "Well. That's not how innocent people usually react."

Great Sage:
Mana reservoir at 82%. Rimuru is stabilizing output. You are currently overcharged by 16%.

Kael's fingers crackled with leftover energy. He stepped closer to the ring.

Inside, the man removed his gloves. His hands were pale, scarred, and lined with tiny glyph tattoos barely visible to the naked eye. Spy runes—used for anchoring illusion spells, message seals, memory ciphers.

Rimuru drifted forward, humming with contained mana. Her surface glowed hot pink now, a sure sign she was restraining her excitement.

"Who sent you?" Kael asked.

The man tilted his head. "Does it matter? You've already made your mistake."

"You'll tell me everything. Or I'll let Rimuru teach you what digestion magic looks like."

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Rimuru blinked. Then extended a pseudopod, forming the word: YUM.

Kael's eyes flicked to the spy's coat pocket—just barely visible through the shifting orange glow of the prison wall.

"Great Sage," Kael murmured. "Location?"

Great Sage:
"Mana source confirmed. Recording crystal: embedded near left breast, anchored with two-tiered concealment glyphs."

"Perfect," Kael said.

He raised his right hand—and the flames of the prison trembled.

The spy flinched, caught off guard as the wall behind him bent unnaturally. A tendril of fire coiled outward, stretching and reforming like molten rope. Then, from that writhing heat, a glowing arm of flame took shape—complete with flickering fingers, laced with bright sigil-veins pulsing in time with Kael's heartbeat.

The hand didn't hesitate.

It surged forward, pierced through the illusion runes near the spy's chest, and yanked the mana crystal free.

The spy gasped. "W-What—?!"

The flaming arm snapped back through the prison wall, tossing the crystal high in the air. Kael caught it cleanly with one hand—smoke curling from the edges.

Rimuru spun in midair like a proud cheerleader. Nanari clapped once. Even Nyaro tilted his head in approval.

Kael studied the shimmering shard. Its surface danced with runes, etched memories locked deep within.

The spy stepped forward, teeth bared. "You don't understand what you've just done."

Kael didn't blink.

He clenched his fist—and the crystal shattered with a hiss of steam and burnt ozone.

"No recordings," Kael said coolly. "No evidence. No leverage."

Great Sage:
"Crystal destroyed. Data unrecoverable. Mana trace neutralized."

The flames around the spy tightened. The prison pulsed like a heartbeat. Rimuru hovered overhead, gleaming like a ready blade.

Kael stepped forward. "Now you talk."

The spy's smirk had cracked by the time Kael stepped through the fire. The wall of flames parted for him, responding not just to his command—but to his conviction.

The infiltrator took a step back, eyes darting from Kael to Rimuru to the waiting arc of Nyaro's shadow beyond the prison ring.

"I know how this goes," the man said. "You kill me. Claim self-defense. Pretend you're not becoming exactly like the rest of them."

Kael stopped, just out of reach.

"No," he said quietly. "You're not worth killing."

The spy blinked.

Kael raised his palm, fingers splayed. Crimson lines pulsed from his fingertips to his wrist, forming a radiant glyph that shimmered in the air between them.

"This mark," he said, "will burn on your skin as long as you breathe. A sigil of exile."

He pressed his hand against the man's chest.

A red-orange flame burst outward, searing the symbol across the spy's shoulder. The agent screamed—not in pain, but in outrage.

"You think this stops anything?"

Kael didn't answer. He just raised his other hand.

A second glyph formed—darker, quieter. This one pulsed with a deep black flame, barely visible except where it bent the air itself like heat distortion.

The spy's bravado faltered.

"W-What is that?"

Kael's voice dropped. "Insurance."

He touched the sigil to the base of the man's neck. The flame didn't burn—it sank in like ink, vanishing beneath the skin.

Great Sage:
"Hidden sigil active. Tracking and audio relay online. Stealth grade: Alpha. Subject will be monitored in real time unless link is severed."

Kael stepped back, letting the fire prison begin to cool.

"You'll be allowed to leave Emberleaf. You'll even think you got away clean."

"You're just a child—" the spy snarled.

"A child who just rewrote the rules."

The flames hissed out. The air settled. Rimuru drifted lower, still pulsing dimly with restrained energy.

Kael turned to Nyaro and nodded. "Escort him to the border. Don't speak. Don't look back."

Nyaro padded forward in silence, his eyes glowing like twin embers.

Kael watched as the spy was dragged out of the plaza—branded, burned, and no longer invisible.

He looked down at his hand, where the black sigil had briefly burned.

"Let me know the second he speaks," Kael murmured.

Great Sage:
"Understood."

Kael exhaled, his breath slow and steady.

"No more ghosts," he whispered. "If they want to watch… let them know we're watching back."

Evening settled over Emberleaf like a sigh.

The spy was gone, escorted far beyond the village borders with the sigils still burning beneath his skin. The plaza had returned to its usual rhythm—half-organized chaos, scattered goblin laughter, and the distant smell of mushroom broth.

But Kael didn't return to his hut. Not yet.

He stood beneath the canopy beside the new outer wall, where the forest met the last torch-lit paths of the village. Rimuru hovered beside him, unusually quiet. Nyaro sat on a ledge nearby, tail swishing slow and thoughtful.

Nanari approached from the direction of the school tent, her goggles slung around her neck.

"That was bold," she said simply.

"He had a crystal," Kael replied. "They were listening. Maybe still are."

Rimuru pulsed softly, almost apologetically.

Kael reached up and tapped her gently. "You did great."

Great Sage:
"Status: audio relay functioning. Sigil is stable. Subject has crossed boundary markers. No transmission interference detected."

Kael nodded, then looked past the trees—out into the world beyond.

"How many more do you think are out there? Watching. Waiting. Waiting for me to slip."

Nanari didn't answer right away. Then: "Enough to worry. Not enough to stop us."

Kael exhaled, breath curling in the cooling air. "The world's starting to notice. And I don't think it'll ever stop."

He turned toward Nanari, brow furrowed. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

She stared at him. "Do you think you're doing the wrong thing?"

"…No."

"Then there's your answer."

Rimuru shifted in the air, then extended a projection:

"We built this. We protect it."

Kael chuckled softly. "Yeah. I guess we do."

He looked out again—toward the ridgelines, toward Emberhollow, toward distant kingdoms already hearing whispers of the name Emberleaf.

"We're not just surviving anymore. We're becoming something bigger than they ever expected."

Nyaro's tail thumped once in quiet agreement.

Kael narrowed his eyes, watching the last light fade from the sky.

"Let them watch."

The next few weeks passed not in silence, but in motion.

Emberleaf shifted beneath Kael's feet—not chaotically, but with the slow, assured rhythm of a place settling into itself. Paths widened. Watchposts rose. Lanterns glowed longer each night without sputtering out.

And still, Kael walked them all.

He passed through the marketplace where goblins argued over mineral prices with beetlefolk traders. He inspected the school tent, now expanded into a semi-permanent structure of leather walls and enchanted beams. Inside, a goblin instructor was scolding a youngling for setting a quill on fire—again.

Outside the forge, Zelganna trained with the next generation of defenders. Nyaro stood across from a wide-eyed goblin boy who swung a dulled staff half his size. The panther dodged every strike with effortless grace.

In the grove behind the tavern, Rimuru hovered above a chalk circle of curious apprentices, glowing runes flickering as she taught them safety glyphs—slow, careful, precise.

Kael smiled as he passed.

They didn't need him to hover. They didn't need him to lead every step. They were building without him now, sometimes. They were living without his hand on the wheel.

And yet they still looked to him—not for orders, but for something steadier.

Hope. Vision. That strange little fire that had started with a boy and a panther and a slime beneath a dying tree.

At dusk, Kael stood on the village ridge, arms folded, cloak tugged by the breeze. Below him, Emberleaf glowed with lanterns and life—more real than any dream, more stable than it had ever been.

Behind him, Nanari approached with a wrapped gift. "Open it."

He unwrapped the cloth and found a new journal—thicker than the first, bound in hardened bark and reinforced with mana threads. On the cover, embossed in gold leaf, was a simple title:

Years of Ember

Kael traced the letters. "Thank you."

Nanari smirked. "For when you're older. And they start writing about you like you're some fairy tale."

He tucked it under his arm, gazing back toward the village.

As the sun dipped below the trees, its final rays catching on the watchtowers and school walls, a quiet feeling settled over him—not peace, not victory, but readiness.

Rimuru landed on his shoulder, pulsing gently.

Nyaro brushed against his leg.

Kael watched the last light fade—and smiled.

He was nine now. And Emberleaf… was only just beginning.