Pleard’s deep voice echoed across the arena as he called, "Second Prince Rein De Luther, step forward and make your choice." Rein walked steadily toward the stage, his long cloak swaying lightly behind him. His followers stood close to him.Their faces were calm yet serious. Kael’s eyes drifted to Adele among Rein’s group, her sharp gaze locked forward, her expression unreadable. His lips curled as he whispered to himself, ’Please don’t let us end up on the same side. For god sake, no matter what, I can’t ally myself with that woman.’ He exhaled slowly, trying to ease the heaviness in his chest. Beside him, Martina was watching Rein carefully, her eyes narrowed as if trying to read deeper into every detail. Kael turned toward her. "Your Highness, are the Crown Games always held ?" His tone was steady, but curiosity edged his words. Martina gave a small nod. "Yes." Kael kept his gaze on the stage. "Then what was the last event about?" Martina hesitated, her brows drawing together. She thought for a moment before answering softly. "We Royals were ordered not to reveal it. But since you are a part of this now, I can say something." She folded her arms, her voice dropping lower. "The last event was the beginning of the Inter Continental War." Kael froze for a moment. His face twisted slightly, and his heartbeat hammered against his chest. "Continental War... Huh..." His voice came out rough, almost strained. Martina’s expression grew serious. "Yes." Kael’s thoughts spiraled back into the past. Memories flashed in his mind. He remembered that when he was born, the Continental War had just ended. That brutal conflict had lasted almost twenty years, a war of human empires clashing for dominance. Bloody war ravaged the world leaving behind slumbers of broken kingdoms. Just when things began to calm, the Demons had risen, waging their own war. In his previous life, he had only been twelve when the Demon War began. The thought of war going on back and forth after a moment of brief seemed to be quite deliberate if he thinks now. "Princess Martina De Luther, step forward," Pleard’s voice cut through Kael’s thoughts like a sharp blade. Kael blinked and looked back to the stage. Rein and his team were gone, already teleported inside. Martina turned to him with a small nod. "Let’s go," she said, her tone calm but firm. Kael fell in step behind her but stopped as he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw Vic standing close, his eyes tense. "What happened? Do you want to resign now?" Vic asked, half-joking, half-serious. Kael let out a short breath. "Of course not. It’s just... Look at Chris." Vic followed his gaze. In the stands, near Ramos, stood a young boy. His eyes were wide and red, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. The sadness in his gaze was heavy, the pain of being left behind etched clearly across his small face. He looked like a child who had just been abandoned, clutching at something invisible. Kael’s lips tightened as he shook his head. "Haaa... He is only C rank now. It would be too dangerous inside for him." "No." Kael’s tone grew firm. "He still needs to grow stronger before he can meddle in something ." ’Besides,he is quite young to take part...I don’t want him to grow twisted.’ Vic lowered his head slightly, unable to argue further. From the stage, Martina’s voice rang out. "Sir Kael..." Kael turned back and forced himself to focus. "Yes, I’m coming." He gave one last glance at Chris then Ramos and others,before walking forward. The group followed behind Martina as she approached the stage. The entire stadium was watching as she stepped up to the box, her calm figure illuminated by the glowing light of the magic circles around them. She reached forward,and she slipped her hands into the box. After a moment, she pulled out a parchment. Its surface glimmered faintly with a greenish hue, something no one could immediately understand. Martina studied it for a second, then raised it high. Without hesitation, she tore it in half. A sharp sound echoed. "Crick!" The parchment broke apart, releasing a brilliant light. The flash spread across the stage, washing over Martina and her team. The glow was so intense that the crowd covered their eyes, the cheers and claps softening for a moment in awe. When the light finally faded, Martina and her squad were gone. The stage stood empty again, only the hum of the magic vortex filling the silence. Pleard’s stern eyes swept across the crowd before he nodded slowly. His voice carried through the arena once more. "Now... Next." Kael’s vision was swallowed by a flood of light. For a moment, it blinded him completely. When his sight finally returned, he found himself standing in a wide square. A pale glow shimmered across the ground as more figures continued to appear in bursts of white light. The place was not too large, and as more and more people arrived, it began to feel crowded, almost stifling. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝘯𝘦𝘵 Martina stepped forward calmly, taking the lead as everyone instinctively fell in behind her. A strange sight awaited them. Not far ahead, rows of tents stretched across the snowy plains. Smoke rose from campfires, and soldiers moved about in formation, their armor clinking with each step. The sound of distant hammers striking against metal rang in the air as smiths worked on weapons. Horses neighed in the background, their breaths visible in the biting cold. Snowflakes drifted down slowly from the sky, coating the tents and soldiers in a thin layer of white. The cold air pricked Kael’s skin, and his breath came out in puffs. Just as Martina placed her foot forward, a large man clad in heavy armor approached them. His steps were firm, and he has a commanding presence. He stopped in front of them, his voice wad deep as he declared, "People chosen from history, you are here to help us." Everyone froze for a moment, exchanging confused looks. Vic blinked hard, his voice rising in disbelief. "Did everyone hear what he just said, or are my ears ringing?" "No, I heard that too," Herion replied, gripping the handle of her axe tightly. His expression became alert. Martina didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward with a steady expression. "Yes. We are the reinforcement sent by the chosen ones in history." The burly man gave her a nod, his expression softening. "Then please, follow me to the camp. This way." Martina walked with confidence, and the rest of them followed. Their boots crunched against the snow as they moved through rows of tents. Soldiers turned their heads, some whispering as the group passed by, though none stepped out of line. Freya leaned closer to the others, her tone uneasy. "Didn’t that feel strange?" "It does," Vic muttered, rubbing his chin. Martina’s voice came from the front, calm and clear. "It is strange, but they are designed this way." Kael furrowed his brow. "I wonder how they made this. How exactly do these soldiers differ from the original ones in history?" Martina slowed slightly so her voice could reach them all. "Most of the soldiers are modeled after ordinary troops. Only the central figures, the important commanders, are shaped based on the records and descriptions left behind. Their strength is determined by their rank and position." Kael’s eyes narrowed. "But they can’t be entirely accurate, right? We don’t have exact details about everything." Martina gave a small nod. "That’s true. But the Churches kept detailed records of every battle and every important personality. Those accounts serve as the foundation." Kael raised his brows at that, his thoughts darkening. ’If they had such records, then I should not exist here. But they must have erased everything about me back then.’ The man leading them stopped in front of a massive tent at the center of the camp. Guards stood on all sides, their stances strict and unwavering. The air around the tent was heavy, filled with tension. "We have reached," the armored man said firmly. "Please enter." Martina turned to the group. "Kael and Sol, you come inside with me." "Yes!" Sol answered without hesitation. Martina brushed aside the flap of the tent and stepped in, Kael close behind her. The inside was quite warm compared to frozen land out there At the center of the tent, a golden-haired man stood over a large wooden table. He held a carved horse piece in one hand while his other traced over a map with sharp focus. When he finally looked up, his eyes met theirs. The moment the person’s sight reflected in his eyes,Kael froze on the spot. His throat went dry as recognition struck him like a bolt. Holy shit... Hans, is that really you? [To know Hans..Refer to Chapter 11]