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

Kael's Age: 14 (almost 15)

The torches of Emberhollow flickered like stars along the ridgeline, their glow stretching across rooftops and winding lanes that hadn't even existed a few years ago. What had once been a scattered goblin village clinging to survival was now something more—walls reinforced with mana steel, homes carved from emberstone and red pine, a central plaza that pulsed faintly with ambient magical warmth. Laughter drifted faintly from the lower streets. Someone strummed a lute near the old training circle.

Kael Drayke stood at the edge of a high terrace overlooking it all, his cloak rippling in the warm breeze. One hand rested on the stone railing, fingers tapping idly against the carved crest of Emberleaf. It had been newly inlaid with silver this year—his idea, actually.

Behind him, the Emberkeep's brazier towers cast faint red glows into the sky like signal flares to no one. Above, stars glittered with dispassionate silence.

It felt too peaceful for what was coming.

At his side, Nyaro lay sprawled like a sun-drunk panther, tail curled loosely around his paws, golden eyes half-lidded but always watching. He didn't speak—not tonight. He rarely did when Kael got quiet like this.

Rimuru floated just overhead, dimly pulsing with a sleepy pale blue light, drifting like a balloon in a soft current. Every now and then, she made a soft cooing noise, her magic flickering gently in response to Kael's heartbeat.

Kael exhaled slowly.

"Tomorrow… huh."

He didn't say it loudly. The wind carried the words away anyway.

He would turn fifteen at dawn. And with that came the Royal Assessment—the ritual every noble bloodline submitted to on their fifteenth birthday. A moment of reckoning, where one's magic, skills, and destiny were laid bare before the world.

For most, it meant noble titles. For others, expectations.

For him?

It meant risk. Exposure. Maybe worse.

The Great Sage had already confirmed it: if he wasn't careful, some of the locked skills—especially the ones tied to other Sins—might bleed through the barrier during the test. And then the Seven Nations would know.

He wasn't just the boy-king of Emberleaf.

He was the Scourge of Wrath.

Kael frowned, gripping the stone railing tighter.

"I hate pretending. But if I don't…"

He didn't finish the thought.

He didn't have to.

Rimuru bobbed gently down and settled onto his shoulder, a barely-there weight. Her glow turned a soft golden hue, humming faintly in sync with his breath.

Nyaro lifted his head, yawned, and huffed through his nose as if to say, "Thinking too hard again."

Kael chuckled dryly.

"You're both too calm. Maybe I'm the only one worried."

Rimuru let out a tiny sound—almost a hiccup—and changed color to a lazy green.

Kael smirked.

Then his expression faded as he looked out again across Emberleaf—his home, his people, his dream.

No matter what happened at the assessment, he had already decided one thing.

"I won't let them take this from me."

Not the kingdom.

Not the peace.

Not the name he'd carved from flame and fury over six long years.

And definitely not his people.

Not without a fight.

The soft clink of boots on stone announced their arrival before Kael even turned.

He didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Still awake?" came his father's voice—low, calm, and just a little amused.

"You're one to talk," Kael replied.

King Alric stepped forward into the moonlight, his royal cloak pulled loose around his shoulders, unfastened and worn like a casual robe. His dark red hair had dulled to ash at the temples over the past few years, and the old battle scar under his left eye seemed deeper now, but his presence had only grown steadier.

Kael's mother, Queen Lyselle, joined a moment later. She walked slower—carefully, as if carrying something unseen—but her eyes held the same warmth they always did when they looked at him.

"We figured we'd find you up here," she said softly. "You always liked the quiet before big days."

Kael gave a small shrug, resting his elbows on the railing again. "Easier to think when everyone's asleep."

Lyselle stopped beside him and reached out to gently adjust Rimuru, who had slumped half-off Kael's shoulder.

"She's gotten bigger," she noted with a smile.

"And snarkier," Kael muttered.

Rimuru twitched slightly, puffing into a defensive pink before settling back into a sleepy golden hue.

Nyaro raised his head as if to object, then thought better of it and yawned instead.

Alric chuckled and pulled a flask from his belt.

"I brought the good stuff," he said, holding it out.

Kael took it and raised an eyebrow. "This isn't that blackroot wine you made Nana throw out, is it?"

"No, this is real. Aged firebark mead. Last bottle from Emberhollow's cellar before the reconstruction."

Kael took a sip. It burned like nostalgia and starlight.

They stood in silence for a while, passing the flask around like it was any other night.

But it wasn't.

Lyselle broke the quiet first.

"Tomorrow's not just about magic, you know."

Kael nodded slowly.

"I know."

"It's about the people who see you," Alric said, his tone shifting. "What they expect. What they fear."

Kael didn't respond at first. He just watched the moon drift lower, its silver edge touching the spires of Emberleaf's rebuilt southern watchtower.

"You think they'll be afraid of me?" he asked finally.

His mother hesitated.

Then she said gently, "Some already are."

"Because I'm strong?"

"Because they don't know how strong," Alric said. "Because they've heard whispers. And because Emberleaf isn't supposed to lead. We're the kind of kingdom that survives—not the kind that shines."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "Maybe it's time that changed."

Alric studied him, then gave a slow nod.

"It will. But not everyone will cheer for it."

Lyselle reached out and smoothed his hair back with a mother's touch.

"Whatever happens tomorrow… you don't have to carry it all alone."

Kael gave a half-smile. "I know. But I probably will anyway."

They didn't argue.

The stars above shimmered faintly, and somewhere below, the town bell chimed midnight.

Kael looked at them both—his parents, his pillars—and saw pride buried beneath the caution in their faces.

"I'm glad you came," he said quietly.

His father stepped back, slinging the flask into his belt again.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it."

Lyselle kissed Kael's forehead, then turned with her husband to leave.

Just before disappearing down the stairwell, she looked back once more.

"No matter what title they give you tomorrow," she whispered, "you'll always be my son first."

Kael stood alone once more, watching until his parents' footsteps faded beyond the stairwell.

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The wind whispered across the stones, tugging at his cloak. Rimuru, still perched on his shoulder, stirred slightly, her glow shifting into a thoughtful blue.

"They're worried about you," she said softly. Her voice—gentle, sure, and familiar now.

Kael didn't respond right away.

He just smiled to himself, looking out across the rooftops of Emberleaf.

"I still remember the first time you said my name."

Rimuru pulsed faintly. "So do I."

The night breeze carried the silence for a moment longer.

And then, without warning, the warmth of the terrace gave way to the cool, echoing quiet of a distant memory…

The cave was too quiet.

Not peaceful. Not still.

Just quiet in the way that warned Kael to draw his weapon.

"You feel that?" he asked.

Rimuru bobbed uneasily on his shoulder, her form flickering between pale blue and a cautious purple.

"Mana fluctuation detected," Great Sage said calmly in his mind. "Sonic distortion. Likely aerial predator."

Nyaro crept along the cavern wall, almost invisible in the shadows. Even he—usually fearless—had his fur bristling along the spine.

Kael gripped his blade tighter.

"Alright. Eyes open. No hero moves. Stick to—"

He didn't finish.

Because the ceiling moved.

No—peeled away like dark silk, revealing a massive form clinging upside down to the cave's highest point. The creature's wings unfurled in complete silence, its body covered in jagged black plating and faint veins of glowing red mana. Its eyes—dozens of them—reflected the party's torchlight with eerie stillness.

Nightdrinker.

A mutated high-tier bat-beast, long thought extinct. Kael had only read about them in field logs.

It dropped without a sound.

Kael barely managed to cast a flame wall in time. The creature bounced off it mid-lunge and let out a sonic shriek that cracked the air like a whip, forcing Kael to his knees. Rimuru shuddered in the air beside him, her form destabilizing.

"Target uses echo-based mana disruption," Great Sage warned. "Advised tactic: split formation. Ambush via vertical angle."

Nyaro vanished into the dark.

Kael forced his body upright and channeled a tight beam of Flame Manipulation at the beast's wing. It dodged unnaturally, ricocheting off the cavern walls like a soundwave given flesh.

He grimaced. "Then let's stop playing nice."

"Rimuru—disrupt its focus!"

Rimuru pulsed gold and launched herself forward in a zig-zag of shimmering motion. As the Nightdrinker zeroed in on her with its screech, Kael spotted his opening.

"Flame Pierce!"

He drove a concentrated lance of fire into the beast's left wing, forcing it into a wild spiral.

Nyaro struck next—leaping from above with a slicing dive. Claws met corrupted flesh. The Nightdrinker reeled.

Kael didn't hesitate.

"Predator."

Rimuru surged forward—faster than lightning now—and wrapped herself around the creature's neck and core. The beast flailed, shrieked, tried to echo-blast its way out, but Rimuru tightened—

—and the Nightdrinker vanished.

Swallowed whole.

Silence fell.

Kael stood in the glow of the cave's bioluminescent moss, panting hard, Blazebinder humming faintly with residual heat. Rimuru floated slowly back to him, her form steaming slightly with absorbed energy.

"You okay?" he asked.

She bobbed… and wobbled.

Then she started to glow again—this time with a strange golden shimmer Kael hadn't seen before.

Her surface rippled, then parted—stretching upward into a vaguely curved shape. A vibration built in the air, soft at first, then sharp and focused.

A voice—fragile but distinct—emerged from her center:

"Kael…?"

He froze.

Blinking. Blinking again.

"...Did you just…?"

Rimuru pulsed light green, then flashed yellow with what he swore was embarrassment.

"Testing… voice output successful," Great Sage chimed helpfully. "New trait acquired: artificial vocal cords. Source: Nightdrinker mimicry function."

Kael just stared.

"Kael?" Rimuru said again. "Is that bad?"

"What—no! No, it's just—uh—how?"

Rimuru turned a soft pink and floated backward, her new vocal feature mimicking a quiet giggle.

"You talk a lot," she said. "I wanted to try."

Kael blinked again.

Then he laughed—loud and full. Echoes bounced off the cave walls.

"You really wanted your own punchlines, huh?"

Rimuru puffed up proudly and declared with perfect clarity:

"I'm amazing."

Kael couldn't argue.

She was.

And in that moment, standing in the cavern glow, his slime familiar now speaking for the first time, he realized something had changed forever.

She wasn't just a familiar now.

She was a partner.

A voice. A mind. A will of her own.

And somehow, hearing her speak was the most emotional part of the whole fight.

The wind tugged his cloak again.

Kael blinked.

The stars were still overhead, Emberleaf still below, and Rimuru still glowing softly on his shoulder—her pulse now steady and warm, just like that night.

She hadn't said anything since the memory returned. She didn't need to.

"Thanks for speaking up," Kael murmured.

Rimuru let out a soft hum, leaning gently against his neck. "You needed it."

Nyaro, still curled nearby, thumped his tail once in quiet agreement.

Kael breathed in the cool night air again.

The Assessment was coming. His world would change. But no matter what titles they gave him tomorrow… some bonds didn't need names.

They were already unbreakable.

The soft creak of the terrace door broke the stillness. Kael turned his head slightly, expecting another guard patrol—or maybe his father again.

Instead, it was Nanari.

She wore her usual long cloak over battle leathers, a satchel slung across her back, and her hair pulled into a tight braid—practical, reliable, and unmistakably Nanari. Despite the late hour, her amber eyes were sharp as ever.

"Thought I'd find you brooding up here," she said, stepping lightly onto the stone.

"Not brooding," Kael replied, half-smiling. "Strategically reflecting."

Rimuru, still perched on his shoulder, perked up and let out a little amused hum.

"Confirmed: Brooding detected. Emotional humidity rising by twelve percent."

Kael sighed. "You were cuter before you had a voice."

"You're just mad I narrate your mood swings now."

"She's not wrong," Nanari muttered, cracking a grin.

She stopped a few paces from them and lowered herself to sit on the edge of the terrace beside Nyaro, who rumbled a low greeting. Rimuru floated over to greet Nanari, shimmering a warm orange.

"You've grown into something pretty impressive," Nanari said to her.

"I know," Rimuru said sweetly. "It's hard being the most useful one on the team."

Kael squinted. "I'm literally the king."

"A technicality," Rimuru replied, spinning slowly like a smug halo.

Nanari turned her attention back to Kael, her tone shifting.

"You ready for tomorrow?"

Kael hesitated. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready. But I'm not running."

"Didn't think you would," she said. Then she reached into her satchel.

From within, she pulled a small wooden box, no larger than a book. The grain was polished smooth, and Kael instantly recognized the Emberleaf crest carved into the top—except this one had a twist. The emblem was split, as if burning open, revealing a phoenix feather tucked within the flame.

"You made this?" he asked.

"Designed it. Commissioned it last year. I was saving it for your fifteenth."

She handed him the box, placing it in his hands with deliberate care.

"Don't open it yet. Not until after the assessment."

"Why?"

"Because it'll make more sense then."

Kael traced a thumb along the phoenix symbol. The wood was warm to the touch, faintly humming with dormant enchantment.

"Is it… dangerous?"

"No," she said. "It's a reminder."

"Of what?"

Nanari stood up and looked out over the rooftops—just like he had minutes earlier. But where Kael had watched with weight on his shoulders, Nanari stood tall, grounded.

"Of who you were… and who you chose to become."

Rimuru hovered close to the box and poked it with a pseudopod.

"Feels enchanted," she said. "Might explode. Or summon a heartfelt poem about your feelings."

Kael rolled his eyes. "If it sings, I'm setting it on fire."

"Even better," Rimuru said cheerfully. "I'll harmonize."

Kael tucked the box carefully into his cloak's inner lining, his smirk fading to something softer.

"I'll wait."

Nanari smiled—not soft, but proud.

"Good. Just remember, Kael. The test doesn't define you. You already did that years ago."

She turned to leave, her boots silent on stone.

But before disappearing down the stairwell, she called over her shoulder:

"And hey. No matter what the old bastards see in that crystal tomorrow—don't let them take your fire."

Kael smirked. "I won't."

The door clicked shut behind her.

Rimuru floated down to hover in front of his face, her glow softening.

"You gonna peek?"

"She said wait."

"Ugh. Fine. But if it is a heartfelt letter, I'm reading it first."

Kael chuckled and gently flicked her with a finger.

"Get in line."

Nyaro gave a low huff of amusement and settled back down beside him.

Kael looked down at the box once more, still unopened. Still burning with quiet promise.

Like something alive.

"Enchantment stable," Great Sage noted. "Stored mana indicates personal resonance. Opening prematurely may cause premature activation."

Kael smiled faintly. "Yeah. I figured."

And he let the night settle around him again.

The rooftops of Emberleaf slept in silence.

Only the faintest sounds—distant winds rustling high banners, the soft coo of nocturnal birds—broke the quiet. Stars scattered the sky in dazzling clarity, unobscured by smoke or city glare. Each one shimmered like a distant soul keeping watch.

Kael stretched out flat on the rooftop, arms behind his head, cloak pulled tight against the cold. Rimuru floated above him at first, then gently dropped onto his chest like a warm, humming pillow.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"I earned this," she said, voice syrupy and proud.

Kael let out a soft laugh. "You really love being able to talk, huh?"

"Talking is amazing. You've been holding out on me. I can make jokes now. Sarcasm. Puns. Sass."

"I've noticed."

A pause.

Rimuru shifted slightly, settling more snugly over his ribs. "But also… it helps me feel like I'm more than just a tool."

Kael blinked. That wasn't what he expected.

"You were never just a tool."

"I know that. Now. But… back then, before I could speak, it was like being a passenger in my own body. I could feel, think, fight—but not connect. Not the way you and Nyaro do."

Kael turned his gaze upward, letting the silence stretch for a moment before he replied.

"Well, you're connected now. You always were. But now everyone else gets to see it."

A beat.

Then Rimuru's voice softened.

"Thanks for waiting for me to catch up."

Kael smiled gently. "Anytime."

They stared at the stars together, the rooftops beneath them fading from thought.

"Do you think tomorrow changes everything?" Rimuru asked.

Kael considered.

"Probably."

"Do you think you'll still be you?"

He was quiet for a moment, then answered.

"Only if I choose to be."

She didn't reply with words this time. Just pulsed softly, warmly, and stayed close.

The wind shifted.

Somewhere far below, a distant bell tolled midnight.

The last hour before his birthday.

The last hour before the truth.

"Mana surge approaching," Great Sage said. "Preliminary threads of fate are beginning to converge."

Kael's fingers curled slightly in his cloak.

He didn't know what the future held.

But with Rimuru on his chest, Nyaro on the terrace beside him, and the stars above shining like silent promises—

He didn't feel alone.

The stars had begun to fade.

Kael sat alone now, back inside his chamber. A single candle flickered beside him on the desk, its glow soft against the windowpane. Rimuru was curled in a shallow mana dish nearby, snoring faintly with gentle bubble-pops. Nyaro lay stretched across the doorway, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, guarding without being asked.

Kael hadn't spoken for a while. He just sat there, fingers resting on the wooden box Nanari had given him, unopened, untouched. Its presence felt heavier than it should have—more than just wood and runes.

He didn't need to open it.

Not yet.

Not until after.

"You are calm," Great Sage observed. "Heart rate steady. Mana fluctuations minimal. Emotional state: prepared."

Kael exhaled slowly. "Not calm. Just… focused."

"That is acceptable."

The candle danced slightly in a draft he couldn't feel. Somewhere in the manor, someone stirred. Quiet footsteps. A shifting robe. The castle beginning to wake.

He rose from the desk and crossed the room to the window. The horizon had turned from black to deep blue—just a hint of light rising, soft and cold.

Fifteen.

A number.

A border between childhood and whatever came next.

He'd seen too much to still be a boy, and yet… something about this moment felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, toes curled over, waiting to jump and hoping he could fly.

Kael opened the window.

The pre-dawn wind poured in, sharp and brisk. It carried the scent of morning fires being stoked across Emberleaf—bread, smoke, and stone.

He took a deep breath and whispered, almost to himself:

"This is the last time I get to just be me."

Rimuru stirred in her bowl. "You'll always be you. Even if you get taller and start acting all regal."

Kael smirked. "If I ever sound like one of the court nobles, slap me."

"With what? I am the slap."

"Good."

He stepped back from the window, heart pounding a little harder now. Not from nerves—but from the weight of knowing something was about to change.

"Alright," he said softly. "Let's get this over with."

Nyaro lifted his head. Rimuru rolled upright, fully awake now, and floated to his shoulder.

"Time until assessment: 52 minutes," Great Sage said. "Shall I prepare mental defenses?"

"Yeah," Kael murmured. "But don't block everything. If they're gonna see what I am…"

He glanced at Rimuru.

"…they should see all of it."

"Acknowledged."

He pulled on his cloak, adjusted his boots, and left the chamber with his companions behind him.

The manor doors swung open into the dawn.

And Kael Drayke stepped into history.