CHAPTER 316: CH 316: A VISITOR - PART 2

As soon as Kyle stepped beyond the barrier, he felt the shift in mana. The knight before him, tall and well-armored, stiffened slightly but did not reach for a weapon.

Instead, he removed his helmet and bowed with practiced grace.

"I am Barton Grace. One of Okla’s commanding knights. I bring with me an opportunity of a lifetime, Lord Kyle Armstrong."

He introduced smoothly, his voice clear and authoritative.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, and behind the barrier, Sasha’s stance tensed as well.

"An opportunity? That’s a bold claim—especially for someone who arrives uninvited and with an entourage hidden in the trees."

Kyle echoed, tone flat.

Sir Barton let out a soft chuckle, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Ah, you noticed. They’re not soldiers sent to threaten. They followed me out of loyalty, not under orders. I merely come as a messenger. These men are here by choice."

"That’s a generous interpretation. If you’ve truly come in peace, then why bring so many? You must understand how that looks."

Kyle said dryly, then added,

"I understand. But I believe in preparing for every possibility. That same belief is what brings me here—to offer you something greater. Power, influence, a cause worth fighting for."

Barton said, nodding.

Kyle’s expression remained neutral, though internally, every word Barton said rang alarm bells.

"And this cause, would it happen to be your faith?"

Kyle said calmly,

Barton didn’t deny it.

"It would. We follow a higher power—one that offers salvation to this broken world. You could be one of its chosen, Lord Kyle. I only ask you hear me out."

Sasha, still behind the barrier, stiffened even more. Kyle caught her subtle shift, and without turning, he raised his hand behind him and signaled for her to remain calm and let him handle this.

"No one else enters."

Kyle stated clearly. Sasha gave a nod in return.

Barton tilted his head.

"Of course. This conversation is for us alone."

Kyle gave no answer. He merely turned and began walking.

"Then follow me."

Barton fell into step beside him as they passed through the village gates. The subtle hum of the barrier surged when the rest of Barton’s hidden group tried to enter—and failed.

The barrier held strong, throwing them back with a pulse of light.

Barton turned slightly to glance behind them, his expression hardening for the first time since their meeting.

His jaw tightened, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his features. But when he looked back at Kyle, his face was once again schooled into polite curiosity.

"You’ve set your boundaries well."

Barton remarked.

"I have reason to,"

Kyle replied without breaking stride.

"Anyone who invites themselves into my home should expect resistance. You said you come with an opportunity—consider this your chance to prove you aren’t lying."

Barton gave a strained smile.

"Fair enough."

They walked in silence through the main street of the village. Villagers paused in their work, casting wary glances at the unfamiliar knight beside their lord.

Kyle noticed their tension, but didn’t speak a word of reassurance. His people were trained to be cautious.

When they reached the center of the village, Kyle gestured toward the wooden structure that functioned as his council hall.

"We’ll talk inside."

Barton didn’t hesitate.

"Lead the way."

Inside the hall, Kyle let the door shut behind them with a soft thud. Barton looked around briefly, studying the simple yet sturdy structure before returning his attention to Kyle.

"Before you begin, know this—I don’t tolerate games, and I don’t entertain cults. If you’re here to preach blind devotion, you’re wasting your breath."

Kyle said, voice low but sharp.

Barton didn’t flinch.

"I expected nothing less from you, Lord Kyle. And I assure you, what I bring isn’t blind faith—it’s power. Real, tangible power. Not stolen from gods. Not begged for from nobles. But granted by a force that recognizes true worth."

Kyle folded his arms and met Barton’s gaze without blinking.

"Then speak. I’m listening."

But inwardly, he was already preparing for the worst.

Sir Barton leaned forward slightly, resting one gloved hand on the edge of the table, his voice solemn yet filled with purpose.

"I am here to give you an opportunity of a lifetime, Lord Kyle Armstrong. You have proven yourself—your power, your leadership, your potential. Okla recognizes talent. We nurture it. And in return, we offer it what it deserves. That is why I am here with this final offer."

He said, every word sharp with intent.

Kyle raised a brow but said nothing, allowing the knight to continue.

"Join us."

Barton said.

"Swear fealty to the divine faith, fight for our cause, and in return, Okla will give you the throne of this fractured kingdom. You shall be crowned King. Not a duke, not a mere noble caught in the tides of empire—but the monarch of a united realm under divine rule. This offer... has been discussed at the highest levels. You are the chosen candidate."

Kyle tilted his head, the flicker of a smile forming at the edge of his lips.

"Chosen, huh? You make it sound like this kingdom is yours to give away."

He said, voice amused.

"It will be. With or without your cooperation. But if you side with us now, you will rise at its head, not fall beneath its weight."

Barton replied confidently.

Kyle chuckled, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.

"Let me guess. This is a limited-time offer?"

Sir Barton did not react to the sarcasm.

"It is final. If you refuse, then from this moment forward, you will be considered an enemy of the faith. Of Okla. And you know what that means."

Kyle’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh, I know."

Silence lingered for a moment before Kyle asked.

"Tell me something, Sir Barton. How many others have you offered this so-called throne to? Am I your first choice, or just the one who hasn’t rejected you... yet?"

Barton’s eyes glinted, but he answered with practiced calm.

"You are the only one alive with the qualifications. Others were considered. None survived."

"Hmm. Sounds like divine business is bloody. But unfortunately, I’m going to have to decline. This deal of yours—becoming a puppet king while dancing to the tune of a rotting god—it doesn’t sound worth my time."

Kyle said.

Barton sighed, a deep, heavy sound that was equal parts regret and inevitability.

"I had hoped you would see reason. But it seems even the brightest minds can be clouded by pride. You would have had power, glory, worship—"

"I already have power. And the only worship I accept is loyalty freely given, not forced under banners of false divinity."

Kyle cut in coldly.

The temperature in the room dropped as Barton’s expression shifted from regret to restrained irritation.

"Then you leave me no choice."

Kyle stood slowly.

"No. You had no choice the moment you walked into my village with this threat disguised as a gift. You think I didn’t know what this was?"

"You mistake warning for threat. But I see now... you’ll only understand through pain. That’s unfortunate."

Barton replied, standing as well, hand hovering near his sword hilt.

Kyle didn’t flinch.

"I’ve lived with pain my entire life. If you think that scares me, you’re welcome to try."