Deming soared across the sky, his black robes billowing in the wind. A gentle breeze caressed his face, tousling his straight, silky hair. He had long imagined this moment—reuniting with the sunlight's warmth and the wind on his skin. It had been an eternity since he last tasted such freedom, and the distant horizon beckoned him back to his home.

Astara, a realm where mountains reached the sky, surrounded the land like a protective cloak. At the heart of Middle Astara stood a city far more advanced than any other, where history, culture, art, and academia thrived. The grand palace served as the city's crown jewel, its stone walls adorned with stunning carvings portraying the culture and artistry of the Astaran people.

Approaching the palace gates, childhood memories flooded his mind, urging him toward the grand throne room, where his sworn enemy awaited.

The massive doors swung open, and Deming stepped inside, dominating the hall. The Astaran Supreme and the council gaped as the boy they remembered from his youth had matured into a tall adult.

Murmurs filled the chamber. One council member whispered to another, "Isn't that Prince Feng Deming? Wasn't he declared dead?"

Deming's malicious gaze landed on the king's, driven by a thirst for revenge. "Former lieutenant and servant of my father... how dare you sit on my throne!" he taunted in a fierce, deep voice, burning with rage in his glare. "You parasite... You sold me to the faeries as a slave. You disgust me."

Gasps and cries of outrage echoed throughout the throne room. The once-mighty King of Kings shifted, his eyes darting around the room. His composure crumbled as he struggled to comprehend how Deming's escape had occurred.

"What? Did you truly believe I would remain imprisoned forever?" Deming summoned forth a raven-black sword with a sinister aura.

The king attempted to regain control. "These accusations are nonsense! If anyone is breaking the law, it is you, entering my palace uninvited... GUARDS!"

"I made you a promise that day, and as you are aware, I always honor my promises." Deming's gaze bore into the former lieutenant, causing bystanders to recoil in horror. "Your reign ends today, and I will ensure not a single statue is made in your likeness, nor will any Astaran speak your name again until you are forgotten..." he paused, holding his hand before him with indifference. "Also, why would I need permission to enter my own palace?"

The king's heart sank as he grasped the direness of his situation. With trembling hands, he drew his sword in a desperate attempt to defend himself. Yet, before he could raise his blade, Deming moved with lightning speed, striking before the king could lift his sword. With a swift blow, the prince shattered the king's defenses, leaving him gasping as his life force ebbed away.

Deming stood over the fallen ruler, his breath heavy with anger, and the council members fell to their knees.

~*~

Meilin had a spacious yet cozy dorm room. It had a king-sized bed in one corner, a desk against the wall, and a sizeable four-door closet. "All this space... is mine?" she mused, her voice trembling with excitement. She leaped onto the bed, laughing as she sank into the soft comforter.

After an hour of unpacking and adding personal touches, the room began to reflect her style. She hung the poster of her favorite champion on her wall—his well-defined muscles and intense eyes drawing her attention in an instant. The bold choice of decor brought life to the otherwise plain wall.

"It's good that it's near the green screen, so I can cover it when I need to pray," she mused, eyeing the swordsman's bare chest. "Can't have THAT distracting me."

A team member leaned against the doorframe, holding a colorful flyer. He took in the changes, which now resembled a girl's room. He focused on the poster she had just put up as she admired the champion. He observed her with a playful glint in his eyes, amused by her daring choice of decor.

"He seems like tough competition," a smooth, masculine voice remarked from behind her, causing her to jump.

Meilin spun around, her heart racing, to find Ningshun standing close, a teasing smile on his lips. "Oh! You scared me! What are you doing here?"

He eyed the poster. "Really? This is why you main him?" He raised an eyebrow. "I must say, I see the appeal. He's got the abs for it, I guess."

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes but could not help the smile tugging at her lips, matching his teasing tone. "It's not my fault he's got great hair and... other qualities."

He chuckled, his tone hinting at playful sarcasm. "I see. So that's your type, eh? Long hair and big swords?"

"Yup!" she crossed her arms with a grin. "If I'm going to stare at a character for hours while I play, he might as well be easy on the eyes."

"Fair enough." He flashed her a naughty smirk. "Just don't get too distracted staring at his... assets."

"No promises," she joked, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, Zayn is a great champion... What, you don't think he's cool?"

Ningshun pretended to consider it, his gaze drifting back to the poster. "Your crush definitely has a... unique style. I'll give him that."

"Crush? I don't have a crush. It's called appreciation, thank you very much." Meilin caught his smug expression. "What? Should I put up a poster of you too?"