Gacha System: Reborn In The Hardest World
Chapter 30: The Monarch

Chapter 30: The Monarch

Approaching the exuberant gates that stood tall, the number of Galios knights stationed at the perimeter was shocking; just about every three steps was another guard. Though he had no answer of who the castle belonged to, there was no doubt it held the utmost authority of Galios.

Just stepping up to the gates brought each of the knights to place their hands on their sheathed blades in unison.

"State your business with the Monarch, or be on your way," the foremost knight in obsidian armor instructed.

"Actually, I do have business here, erm...Apple?" Gael said, recalling the secret word given to him.

Even as he said it, he felt like an absolute idiot speaking of fruit in the face of the seasoned knights. As he stood there for a moment, waiting–

"Open the gates!" The knight shouted to his peers.

To his surprise, the keyword worked, watching the golden barrier be opened as he was welcomed into the lavish sector.

"Look at that. You’re more influential than I took you for," Matteo remarked, following him in as he already had his journal out, writing in it.

"I wouldn’t say that...I just know somebody who is," Gael said.

What awaited past the gates was a walkway through a pristine courtyard, neighbored by perfectly-trimmed hedges. To his surprise, there weren’t many guards within the gated territory, only an exuberant fountain in the center of the courtyard, taking the shape of a swordsman’s statue.

’I wonder just what it is you have planned, Blythe,’ he thought.

Approaching the front of the exuberant castle, its scale settled in at that moment as he looked up at its immaculate architecture. It dazzled beneath the sunlight, overlooked by the sun directly as if blessed by the star. Just ascending the steps leading to the front door felt like crossing the boundaries from normalcy to the blessed, placing his boots firmly on the pristine marble.

"So, do we just walk in, or?" Matteo asked, staring at the towering doors.

"I’m not sure," Gael answered.

As he waited for any sort of sign, reaching his hand out towards the lion-shaped handle, the doors began to part on their own. There was nobody on the other side that had opened it, yet found himself being welcomed inside the exuberant halls.

Crossing the threshold into the immaculate keep, the doors closed right behind them as he looked around. The halls were occupied by soldiers that stood as still as statues, yet undoubtedly ready at the slightest hint of trouble.

Waiting in the hall, Blythe greeted him with a worried breath, "There you are, Gael...It looks like you summoned another."

Matteo responded only with a wave of his hand before propping his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

He was surprised to find the silver-haired girl waiting for him, "I got a bit side-tracked, but yeah...What’s up? Seems a bit tense here."

Blythe didn’t reject his remark, "Well, the thing is...Ah–I really wanted to avoid this..."

"Huh? What is it?" Gael asked, watching as the girl breathed out.

It was rare to see the composed, calculating lady exhibit actual stress, causing him to begin worrying himself at what could cause such a reaction.

Blythe paced back-and-forth at the width of the regal hall, muttering to herself. The while, Matteo gawked at the marble-carved statues of Galios’ heroes, taking notes.

"Seriously, is something wrong?" Gael asked again.

"It’s..." Blythe stopped, finally looking at him. "The Monarch wants to meet you, one-on-one."

"The Monarch? Like, the ruler of Galios?" Gael clarified.

Blythe bit her thumb, nodding her head as if deep in thought, "That’s correct...There’s no rejecting his request, so–you’ll have to do this."

Though it was sudden inclusion, he failed to understand why it had her so worried, "I can do that, sure. What’s he want to talk to me about, though?" He asked.

"Gael, listen...The Monarch is a man who believes in nothing else but strength. The entire value of a person is their strength–their effectiveness to Galios. You can’t show any signs of weakness to him," Blythe instructed him direly. "He’s an unpredictable man...If you disappoint him, it could mean your life."

"Wait, seriously? Isn’t that a bit too much?" Gael questioned, suddenly feeling the weight on his shoulders.

Blythe placed her hand on his shoulder, looking him right in the eyes, "Just answer his questions honestly, appeal to his ideology, but don’t lie. He will know if you do."

"Right, sure...I can do that," Gael accepted with a nod.

"It goes without saying, but your familiars can’t go in with you for this. It’s strictly one-on-one," Blythe reaffirmed.

Matteo sighed, ruffling his hair, "Seriously? I was curious about this Monarch."

"Damn! Well, if those are the rules," Florentine, huffed, resting her hammer against the ground.

Through the hall of divine architecture he went by himself, overlooked by walls painted with the storied history of Galios; cataclysmic beasts, heroes that fought for the land, and even deities that aided.

’This day has been way too long. I just want to get this over with and sleep in a nice, warm bed,’ he thought, staring at the imposing doors at the end of the corridor.

From what he could tell, none of the knights budged an inch, standing like statues as he approached the black-steel doors. Once again, they opened on their own, welcoming him into the throne room itself–

A chamber of absolute authority; the highest point of Galios; it was built of black, cold steel, immaculate as each and every inch was void of dust. As he stepped inside, taking in the sights of the colossal statues of who he could only assume were the past rulers, the doors closed behind him.

"Welcome, Outlander from a world afar."

A masculine voice of reverence greeted him, though there was no warmth to it. He looked ahead, discovering the throne that sat atop a trio of steps. There wasn’t a single guard in the throne room; a discovery that perplexed him only until he noticed what else inhabited the chamber.

"Ah–"

Gael could only emit that noise of surprise as he saw not only the one who sat on the beast-carved throne of obsidian, but the beast that sat behind it.

A lion of pitch-black fur and a silver mane laid, possessing a size comparable to that of a dragon, watching the guest with its platinum eyes. It was a sight that immediately instilled utmost fear into his body; a beast born of myth, far too large, far too imposing to naturally exist–

"Fear not," the man sitting on the throne assured him. "Volian feeds only on the enemies of Galios. You’re not one such harbinger, are you?"

Somehow, he found his words as he stood in the center of the throne room, "No...I’m not an enemy. I don’t really know what I’m here for, if I’m being honest."