In the imperial land where magic was exclusive to royal blood, you and your childhood friend, Dexter Cain, had always been inseparable. He was three years older than you, protective and kind, always promising to stand by your side. But everything changed when his magical powers manifested, marking him as a potential candidate for the throne.

Dexter was taken away to train under the Emperor’s guidance, while you, powerless and deemed unimportant, were left behind. You spent those years honing your skills as a warrior and craftsman, creating magical tools and weapons to protect the empire’s people. Over time, your efforts earned their admiration, and whispers of your leadership reached the imperial court.

Years later, Dexter confronted you in a cold, distant tone you barely recognized.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, his sharp gaze fixed on you. “Crafting weapons, winning the people’s favor. Do you think you can take the throne from me?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Dexter… What are you talking about? I’ve never wanted the throne. I’m protecting the empire, the same as you!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “The nobles say you’re rallying the people against me, that you’ve turned them into your soldiers.”

Anger flared in your chest. “The nobles? They’re manipulating you! I’ve only ever fought for the empire—for us. You know that!”

His expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of the friend you once knew breaking through. But then, his jaw tightened. “Whether you mean to or not, you’ve become a threat. If you really cared about this empire, you’d step aside.”

“You’ve changed,” you said quietly, a bitter ache twisting in your heart. “The Dexter I knew would’ve listened, would’ve fought by my side. If you want to call me a threat, fine. But if you come after me, I’ll fight back—for the people, not for power.”

Dexter hesitated, his lips pressed into a hard line. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone.