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

The doors to Emberhollow's great throne hall creaked open on ancient hinges, revealing the full scale of Ira's attention.

For once, it wasn't the warmth of the firestones lining the walls or the towering stained-glass depictions of Ira's past Scourges that made the air feel heavy. It was the weight of expectation. The unspoken demand of hundreds of eyes turning in perfect silence.

Kael stepped into that silence like it was nothing.

He walked with a steady, unhurried pace, every footfall deliberate. His long black cloak—threaded subtly with ember-red silk—fluttered behind him, cut perfectly for ceremonial war. Not flashy, not noble. Sharp. Practical. Regal in a way that belonged to no court but his own.

On his left shoulder rested Rimuru, her body compact, glow subdued to a gentle twilight blue. She said nothing—for now. But Kael felt her pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Behind him padded Nyaro. Each paw landed in soft defiance of the room's polished obsidian tiles. The golden-furred panther moved like a living threat disguised as elegance, tail sweeping low, ears alert. His gaze met every wary noble they passed.

And there were many.

The upper balconies and reserved pews were packed with foreign nobles, elite knights, and spellcasters from across the continent. Banners of crimson, gold, and volcanic black draped the columns—markings of Pyraxis, Ashenveil, and even distant Ira border clans, all present to witness the Emberhollow heir's fate.

To see if the rumors were true.

If the wild boy of the forest was worthy of the crown fate had thrown at his feet.

Kael didn't look at them. He didn't need to.

He felt them.

The way some flinched at Nyaro's passing growl. The way others leaned forward with hungry smiles, hoping for a spectacle. For failure. For confirmation that Emberleaf's miracle king was nothing more than a boy with a beast and a slime.

"Tension index rising," Great Sage murmured in his mind. "Sixty-two percent of observers are magically suppressing heart rate. Common technique for appearing calm while panicking."

"So I'm terrifying?"

"Accurate."

Kael smirked, just slightly.

Rimuru's voice followed, her tone sweet and smug. "We should've brought a fog machine. Or maybe I burst into flames for dramatic effect?"

"Too early," Kael whispered. "Let them think I'm normal for five more minutes."

"Impossible."

Ahead, the glowing Assessment Crystal hovered above a seven-tiered dais of etched stone. It rotated slowly, gleaming silver-white, suspended in an invisible lattice of magic. Veins of runes circled the base like molten threads—fire-aligned, ancient, and alive.

Six high officials stood around the platform in ceremonial robes. White, red, and ash-gray. Among them, the Royal Examiner stepped forward. Tall, pale, and precise, the man's eyes locked on Kael with the focus of someone trained to read a soul.

Kael's mother and father sat upon high thrones overlooking the ritual floor, dressed in the formal armor and robes of Emberhollow's ruling line. The Queen's hands were folded tightly in her lap, knuckles pale. The King had his usual expression: stern, unreadable, but not cold.

They had not told him what to do today.

They had trusted him to choose.

"Heart rate elevated," Great Sage whispered again. "But acceptable. Mana pathways stable. Emotional anchors holding."

"Just another room," Kael told himself. "Just another fight."

He stopped at the edge of the first step.

The Examiner's voice rang out, sharp and clear.

"Kael Drayke. Born of Emberhollow. Chosen by fire. You are called to stand before the Crystal of Judgment. Do you come willingly?"

The words were ritual. The tone was not.

Kael answered with clarity that cut across the room.

"I do."

"Then step forward. Let flame and mana judge you. Let none interfere."

Kael mounted the stairs slowly, each one engraved with the symbols of Ira's legacy—Flame. Wrath. Control. Sacrifice.

On the sixth step, he paused briefly, just as the floating crystal began to pulse brighter in recognition of his proximity. Not alarm. Not warning. Acknowledgment.

A few nobles in the crowd gasped audibly.

"Resonance detected," Great Sage said. "The crystal is responding to latent high-tier mana density. Unusual at this distance."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning… it knows you're not ordinary."

Kael took the final step and came face-to-face with the crystal. It hovered a foot from his chest, spinning slowly. Waiting. Listening.

Behind him, the entire hall waited to see if the forest prince was a real king—or just a child draped in legend.

Kael raised his hand.

Rimuru and Nyaro tensed in quiet sync.

"Seals in place," Great Sage said. "Only authorized skills will appear. Begin."

Kael pressed his palm to the crystal.

It flashed—

And everything turned to light.

The moment Kael's palm met the crystal, it ignited with blinding brilliance.

Silver-white mana surged outward in concentric waves, rippling through the hall like a tidal pulse. The glyphs carved into the platform flared to life, ancient symbols glowing with awakened power. Every torch flickered. Every enchanted blade trembled in its sheath. Even the stained-glass windows groaned in their frames.

The crowd gasped—some shielding their eyes, others standing from their seats in alarm.

But Kael stood still.

The light didn't burn him.

It welcomed him.

"Initiating mana-link," Great Sage reported calmly. "Cross-referencing genetic, elemental, and spiritual data. Surface-level skill identification only. Proceeding."

The crystal's glow condensed. A tall column of light erupted straight up, slamming into the vaulted ceiling like a beacon.

Inside it, three glowing words began to form.

The first burned in deep crimson fire:

🔥

Ultimate Skill: Elemental Mastery – Fire Affinity (Perfected)

A hushed murmur rippled through the room. Elemental Mastery was already rare—but perfected fire mastery?

The second glyph shimmered into view, encircled by blue-gold mana threads:

🌀

Ultimate Skill: Mana Manipulation

A loud clang echoed from one of the balcony levels. A knight had dropped his halberd. Several nobles began whispering urgently. Even the emissaries from Pyraxis shifted forward in their seats.

"Two ultimate-class skills…" one of them breathed. "At his age?"

The third and final glyph appeared more subtly—threads of lightning curling into a tight spiral of script:

⚡

Extra Skill: Accelerated Thought

The hall fell into complete silence.

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Even the air stilled.

Not just strength, they realized. Not just mana control.

But mental speed.

Tactical supremacy.

A young king with the mind of a battlefield veteran.

"Surface identification complete," Great Sage whispered. "Sealed skills remain hidden. Mind barriers stable. No detection breaches."

"What do they see?" Kael asked silently.

"Exactly what they expect to see. Nothing more. Nothing less."

The crystal dimmed—but not fully. A residual halo of flame circled Kael's wrist, a silent marker that the ritual had succeeded. The light faded back into the crystal. The runes on the dais cooled.

And the room erupted into controlled chaos.

A handful of court mages surged forward, whispering spells under their breath to analyze what they'd just witnessed. The high priest of the Ember Tribunal crossed himself and muttered blessings of fire-born prophecy. Knights stared openly, unsure whether to draw their swords or kneel.

From the upper throne, the Queen leaned forward, eyes locked on Kael—not shocked.

But resolved.

The King said nothing.

Then the Royal Examiner stepped forward again and raised both hands.

"Let the results be known and recorded!"

His voice rang like iron across the stone.

"Kael Drayke, of Emberhollow, stands recognized by flame and fate! Possessor of Elemental Mastery, wielder of pure Mana Manipulation, and bearer of the Accelerated Mind! Let none dispute his right to ascend!"

There was no applause.

Only silence.

And then—

A single figure stepped forward.

A knight in Emberleaf red knelt at the base of the stairs, hand across his chest, eyes lowered.

"I pledge my blade to the Scourge of Wrath," he said, voice like thunder. "Long may he burn."

The hall reacted in waves—some shocked, others reluctant, a few nodding slowly.

Kael looked down at the knight.

"Get up," he said quietly. "I'm not here to collect titles. I'm here to protect what matters."

Rimuru whispered beside his ear. "That's going to be carved on a statue one day."

"I'll burn the statue down."

A quiet snort from Nyaro echoed on the dais.

"Assessment complete," Great Sage confirmed. "All observers sufficiently impressed. Some terrified. Desired outcome achieved."

Kael turned, walking down the steps with Rimuru on his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

And the world, still reeling, began to adjust around him.

Kael's footsteps echoed down the obsidian steps like war drums in slow motion.

He didn't bow. Didn't pause to soak in the awe or confusion. He simply walked back to the center of the chamber, past the murmuring crowd, as if the whole explosive display had been routine.

Behind him, the last traces of mana faded from the Assessment Crystal.

But the silence it left behind still pressed on every heart in the room.

He stopped before the flame-marked carpet, facing the twin thrones of his parents.

The Queen's gaze met his. There was no fear in her eyes. Only a flicker of something deeper—like she'd just glimpsed a prophecy she'd been preparing her whole life to face.

The King stood slowly.

Not a single rustle of cloth broke the moment.

"Let it be known," he said, voice quiet but commanding, "that the Flame has chosen. Emberhollow's bloodline has not thinned. It has not wavered. It has… evolved."

He turned to face the gathered nobles and foreign observers.

"Kael Drayke," he continued, "shall henceforth be recognized as the official heir to the Flamebranch throne and the confirmed Scourge of Wrath."

Gasps rang out like cracks in cold stone.

So the rumors were true.

A Scourge had awakened—young, untested, but bearing the mark of the continent's most volatile title. Some paled. A few stared at Kael as if they'd seen a god crack through his mortal shell.

One Pyraxis noble muttered, "They'll never be able to keep him contained."

Another from Ashenveil smirked. "If they even try, we'll just recruit him."

"Fifty-three observers are now altering future diplomatic plans," Great Sage whispered. "Twenty-four are preparing inquiries. Three are plotting extraction scenarios."

"Let them try," Kael replied silently.

From the side chamber entrance, the flame-lit knight who had first knelt strode forward again. He drew a ceremonial blade—not in threat, but in ritual.

He dropped to one knee before Kael and raised the sword horizontally.

"Let the fire crown him," the knight said.

The King nodded.

The Queen rose and descended the steps herself, carrying a thin band of obsidian and red-gold, shaped like a circlet of flame. She paused in front of Kael, hands trembling only slightly.

"Not a king yet," she said, voice soft. "But the world will treat you like one now."

Kael lowered his head. She placed the circlet across his brow. It shimmered faintly—accepting him.

And the flame responded.

A faint ring of heat bloomed in the air behind him, invisible to most, but undeniable to those attuned to mana.

Not magic. Not show.

Recognition.

"Title inscribed: Emberhollow Flame Heir. Designation: Scourge of Wrath. Influence radius increased," Great Sage confirmed. "Authority markers updated."

Kael opened his eyes slowly.

And across the room, nobles, knights, and emissaries bowed.

Some with fear.

Some with reverence.

But all of them bowed.

Rimuru whispered, "Not bad for a forest boy with a talking slime and a panther."

Kael smirked. "Next stop—global peace or global panic."

Nyaro rumbled a low, approving purr.

The royal antechamber was warm but quiet, lit only by the low flicker of enchanted lanterns embedded in the walls. Thick crimson drapes muffled the roar of the celebration still echoing below, turning it into a distant hum.

Kael stood near the center of the room, freshly crowned, still cloaked in soot and quiet awe.

He was alone—at least for a few heartbeats.

The door behind him clicked shut.

His father entered first, unarmored now, wearing only a simple dark tunic embroidered with the Flamebranch crest. The king's face was unreadable, but his stride was steady, purposeful.

His mother followed behind, her hands clasped together as if she were still calming the fire in her chest.

No guards. No attendants. No ceremony.

Just family.

"Not bad," the King said finally, voice low. "Could've warned us about the light show."

Kael turned, his expression carefully neutral. "Didn't want to cause a fuss."

The King huffed once—something between a chuckle and a sigh.

"I take it what we saw wasn't everything?" the Queen asked gently, stepping closer. She didn't accuse. Didn't demand. She simply looked at her son with the eyes of a woman who knew.

Kael hesitated.

"Truth?" he asked silently.

"Limited disclosure advised," Great Sage answered. "Signal strength low. Mental scrying attempts active outside this room."

"So even in private, I'm being watched."

"Welcome to royalty," Rimuru murmured in his ear, floating quietly behind his shoulder.

Kael sighed through his nose. "You're right," he said aloud. "That wasn't everything. There are… other skills. Ones I can't risk showing yet."

His father nodded, slow and deliberate. "Then don't. If they're as dangerous as I suspect, then let the world believe in the version of you they saw today. It's strong enough."

"And what about the ones who'll want more?" Kael asked. "More answers. More control."

"Burn them if you have to," the King said flatly. "But never underestimate them. Power scares people more than evil does."

The Queen stepped closer. Her voice was softer. "You've changed. Not just grown—changed. There's more in your eyes than battle. There's… experience. Knowledge you didn't earn in this world."

Kael didn't respond.

He didn't have to.

She reached into the folds of her outer robe and withdrew something wrapped in deep blue silk—a scroll, sealed with golden wax and stamped with a symbol Kael had only seen once before in old books.

A mirror of flame.

The sigil of the Seven Scourges.

His breath caught.

"This was given to me when I was crowned queen," she said quietly. "I didn't understand it then. I barely understand it now. But I believe it's meant for you."

Kael accepted it without a word.

"Unknown enchantment," Great Sage said instantly. "Seal contains dormant mana signature. Recommend caution. Activation point likely tied to proximity with other Scourge-bearers."

"Thanks," Kael said softly, folding the scroll into his inner cloak.

"I don't know what path you'll choose," the Queen continued. "But I've seen now that you're not walking anyone else's."

She reached forward and placed her hand gently on his cheek, fingers trembling slightly.

"Just… come back to us when the path gets too heavy. You're still our son."

Kael nodded, once.

Then turned toward the window overlooking the capital.

Below, Emberhollow's square was alight with celebration—paper lanterns, firework wisps, and the glow of thousands who had no idea what they'd just witnessed.

Only that a new Scourge had risen.

Only that something was coming.

Behind Kael, Rimuru floated to his shoulder, quiet.

Nyaro sat at the door, tail flicking in slow rhythm.

Kael looked down at the scroll again.

And for the first time in a long time…

He felt the weight of history settling across his shoulders.

The firelight of celebration didn't reach the upper terraces of Emberhollow.

Up here, the stone paths wound like veins around the royal district, hugging steep cliffsides and torchlit watchtowers. The city below burned with life—laughter, music, shimmering trails of magic dancing through the air in the shape of firebirds and glowing spirits. But none of it touched Kael as he walked, hands deep in his cloak, circlet cold against his brow.

His footsteps echoed in the quiet.

Even the guards stationed nearby didn't stop him. Not anymore.

They just bowed and returned to stillness, pretending not to notice the panther at his side or the glowing slime on his shoulder.

Rimuru drifted lazily in the air beside him, rotating slowly as if mimicking a falling ember. Her voice came after a long silence.

"Happy birthday."

Kael blinked at her.

"Didn't think you'd remember."

"I've been keeping track since you were five," she said. "It's my job to know how old you are, dumb king."

Kael snorted faintly. "You're not my secretary."

"Exactly. I'm better."

A long pause passed between them.

Rimuru pulsed faint blue. "You're quiet."

"Thinking."

"About?"

Kael exhaled through his nose. "About how everything changed. And yet… nothing did."

He stopped at a lookout platform halfway up the ridge—a wide, flat stone ledge built into the outer wall, meant for archers and commanders during times of siege. Now it was just a place where the wind came without filter and the stars sat close enough to touch.

Kael leaned forward against the stone railing.

Below, Emberhollow sparkled like a sea of scattered embers. Thousands of lights danced across rooftops and market tents. Bonfires roared in the squares. The people were singing.

"They're celebrating a symbol," Kael said softly. "Not a person."

"You're both," Rimuru replied.

"No. I'm a target now."

Nyaro padded up beside him and settled down with a long sigh, golden eyes reflecting the firelight far below. His ears twitched at every distant pop of fireworks, but he didn't rise.

Kael glanced down at the scroll still hidden in his cloak. The wax seal hadn't cracked, but it felt warmer now. Almost aware.

"I don't even know what the Scourges were," Kael whispered. "Not really. Only the fragments the Queen gave me. The legends. The flames in the mirror. And I'm supposed to carry that weight?"

"Not alone," Rimuru said. "Not ever again."

Kael looked over at her.

She hovered a little closer, glowing warm now, like a second moon.

"I might be small," she said, "but I'm a slime with a soul. And that scroll? That crown? They don't mean a thing unless you make them yours. So take your time. Burn slow. Burn bright. Burn them all, if you have to."

Kael stared at her for a long moment, then broke into a quiet laugh.

"You really are better than a secretary."

"I know."

He turned back toward the stars. The wind tugged at his cloak, threading through his hair.

Somewhere far behind him, his family still watched. Somewhere beyond the ridge, the Seven Sins stirred. And in the shadows of the world, other Scourges—whether living or sleeping—were beginning to feel the heat of his rise.

"Are you ready?" Great Sage asked in his mind, voice steady, almost amused.

"No," Kael answered. "But I'm going anyway."

He stepped back from the ledge and began walking again—this time with no destination. Just movement. Just thought.

Just flame.

And behind him, Rimuru and Nyaro followed, as they always had.

As they always would.