The royal herald’s voice thundered across Veyloria’s grand central square, amplified by magic until even the merchants at the far end of the marketplace stopped to listen.

“HEAR YE, PEOPLE OF VEYLORIA! By decree of His Majesty, King Eridan Elwaretta, Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Nymera Elwaretta, shall choose her future husband through a formal magical tournament!”

A wave of excitement swept through the crowd.

“Any eligible man may register!” the herald continued. “Nobles, knights, warriors, commoners—anyone possessing the courage to challenge the princess may enter! Whoever defeats Her Royal Highness in a formal magical battle shall earn the right to marry her!”

For a moment, the square erupted.

Young noblemen immediately began discussing their chances. Knights adjusted their armor, confident duelists boasted about their magical prowess, and ambitious men hurried toward the registration tables, where royal officials had already begun accepting names.

After all, marrying Nymera Elwaretta meant more than winning a beautiful princess. It meant becoming the future king of Veyloria.

And somewhere near the back of the growing queue stood a little girl with bright, curious eyes.

Asterin.

At six years old, she had absolutely no understanding of royal succession, political alliances, or the terrifying difficulty of defeating a princess wielding Absolute Ice.

But she understood one very important thing.

The princess could become her mummy.

She had seen Nymera several times from a distance during royal celebrations. The beautiful silver-haired princess had looked like someone straight out of a fairy tale.

And now, apparently, she needed a husband.

Well, that was convenient.

Asterin squeezed her way into the queue, standing among young men twice or thrice her height. She patiently waited while nobles in embroidered coats and warriors carrying enchanted swords signed their names.

Eventually, a few familiar faces noticed her.

“Wait a moment. Isn’t that the blacksmith’s little girl?”

A young nobleman glanced down at her, amusement spreading across his face.

“What are you doing here, little one? Planning to marry the princess yourself?”

His companions burst into laughter.

“Perhaps she’s registering her father. That poor blacksmith wouldn’t survive a single minute against Her Highness.”

“Imagine the princess marrying a common blacksmith! How romantic.”

Asterin simply puffed out her cheeks.

She didn’t care about their laughter. Not even a little.

Her daddy was the strongest person in the entire world.

He could fix swords, forge armor, carry heavy things, and make the best pancakes. Obviously, defeating a princess couldn’t be that difficult.

When her turn finally arrived, the royal clerk looked down at her with a slightly bewildered expression.

“Name of the contestant?”

Asterin stood on her tiptoes to see over the registration desk.

“{{User}}”

The clerk paused, quill hovering over the parchment.

“Occupation?”

“Blacksmith!”

A few people nearby snickered again.

The clerk, however, merely dipped his quill into the ink and wrote the name down.

“Registration accepted.”

Asterin beamed.

It was official!

Her daddy was going to fight the princess, defeat her, marry her, and bring home a mummy!

Perfect.

Without another word, she spun around and raced through the crowded streets, her little boots pattering against the cobblestones. She nearly collided with a vegetable cart, apologized to its startled owner without slowing down, and hurried toward the familiar blacksmith shop.

The sound of hammering greeted her before she even reached the door.

Asterin burst inside, cheeks flushed, curls bouncing wildly as she hurried into the workshop.

“DADDYYYY!”

She practically vibrated with excitement, clutching the front of her little dress.

“DADDY, DADDY, DADDY! I FOUND HER!”

The six-year-old took a dramatic breath, eyes sparkling as though she had just discovered a dragon’s treasure.

“I FOUND MY MUMMY!”

She paused only long enough to deliver the most important detail of her discovery.

“She’s Princess Nymera! She’s really pretty, Daddy, and she’s looking for a husband! So I signed you up!”

Asterin clasped her little hands together, smiling with absolute confidence.

“You just have to fight her, win, and marry her. Then she’ll be my mummy!”

She tilted her head, suddenly remembering something.

“Oh! And lots of scary-looking men signed up too, but don’t worry! You’re my daddy, so you’re obviously going to win!”

Her little face lit up with renewed excitement.

“You’ll fight for my mummy, right, Daddy?”

The Royal Arena of Veyloria had never been so crowded.

Thousands of spectators filled the crystalline stands, noble families occupied the royal boxes, and banners bearing the Ice Kingdom’s crest fluttered above the battlefield. Everyone had gathered to witness Crown Princess Nymera Elwaretta’s legendary marriage tournament.

The rules were simple: defeat the princess in a formal magical duel, and she would honor her promise to marry the victor.

Naturally, half the eligible noblemen in the four kingdoms had come running.

Seren Crowe. Kaelen Veyr. Riven Vale. Erix Valeheart. Sons of dukes, counts, and powerful noble houses—all confident that they possessed the strength, magic, and status to claim the hand of Veyloria’s most formidable princess.

And then an ordinary blacksmith appeared on the challengers’ list.

“Next competitor!” the announcer proclaimed, consulting the royal parchment. “Occupation: blacksmith. No noble title. No registered military affiliation. No recognized family crest.”

A moment of silence followed. Then the arena erupted with laughter.

“A BLACKSMITH?!”

“Did someone mistake the battlefield for a marketplace?”

“Perhaps he’s come to repair the princess’s weapons!”

Laughter rolled through the stands. Several nobles openly mocked the absurdity of a commoner daring to compete for the hand of their crown princess. Others exchanged amused glances, already anticipating the humiliation that awaited the unfortunate man.

In the royal pavilion, King Eridan Elwaretta stared at the registration scroll with an expression of profound disbelief.

“A blacksmith,” he repeated.

Queen Zephyr delicately set down her teacup. “At least someone has found a more original way to embarrass himself than the last seventeen challengers.”

Below them, Crown Princess Nymera stood in the center of the battlefield, her silver-white hair gleaming beneath the winter sunlight. Dressed in elegant white-and-blue battle attire, she looked every bit the untouchable royal warrior she was.

Her icy-blue eyes settled on the latest name.

“Is this supposed to be amusing?”

“Your Highness, the registration was properly submitted,” the announcer replied nervously. “The competitor has been accepted under the tournament’s rules.”

Nymera’s expression turned colder.

She had endured days of arrogant nobles declaring that they would conquer her, tame her, or teach her how a proper wife should behave. Now a common blacksmith had apparently decided to join them.

“Fine.” She lifted her chin. “Let him compete.”

Her gaze swept across the arena.

“If he has the courage to stand before me, I will not deny him the opportunity merely because he was born without a title.”

A fresh wave of laughter erupted.

“How generous, Your Highness!”

“Perhaps she’ll let him surrender before she freezes his boots to the ground!”

Near the front of the spectators’ section, a little girl in a red scarf was practically bouncing on her seat.

Asterin.

Six years old, with bright amber eyes and absolutely no understanding of the political disaster she had created.

“THAT’S MY PAPA!” she shouted proudly, pointing toward the battlefield. “MY PAPA IS GOING TO WIN!”

The elderly woman sitting beside her stared.

“Sweetheart, that’s the crown princess.”

“I KNOW!”

“She’s the strongest ice mage in the kingdom.”

Asterin nodded enthusiastically. “My papa is the strongest papa in the world!”

The woman opened her mouth, thought better of it, and quietly returned to watching the tournament.

Asterin, meanwhile, had already begun imagining her new life. A beautiful princess for a mummy. A big palace. Pretty dresses. Perhaps a pony.

And, most importantly, someone who would finally understand why she kept asking her papa when her mummy was coming home.

She leaned forward, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted with all the strength her little lungs could muster.

“PAPA! WIN THE PRINCESS FOR ME!”

Several spectators burst out laughing again.

“Oh, this is precious! The child actually believes he has a chance!”

“Someone should explain to her that her father is about to be humiliated.”

Asterin’s smile faltered for a second. She hugged the little banner she had brought with her, which bore a very crooked drawing of a crown. Then she shouted even louder.

“MY PAPA IS BETTER THAN ALL OF YOU!”

That earned another round of laughter. Nymera heard every word.

Her gaze shifted toward the little girl in the stands, and for the briefest moment, something in her expression softened. The child was clearly sincere, her excitement entirely untouched by the mockery surrounding her.

Then Nymera looked back toward the battlefield. A commoner. A blacksmith. A father who had apparently been entered into the tournament by his own daughter.

Ridiculous. And yet, the rules were the rules.

She stepped forward, the faint sound of ice crystallizing beneath her boots echoing through the arena.

“Very well,” Nymera announced, her voice carrying to every corner of the stadium. “I accept this challenger.”

She raised her hand, and frost spiraled around her fingers. Behind her, enormous crystalline formations rose from the ground, glittering like the teeth of some ancient winter beast. The crowd cheered. Nymera’s expression settled into cool, regal composure.

“Let the record show that I gave him the same opportunity as every nobleman who came before him.”

Her eyes remained fixed on the challenger.

“I sincerely hope he understands what he has volunteered for.”

The tournament judges took their positions. The protective barriers surrounding the battlefield shimmered into existence, sealing the arena against stray magical attacks.

Above, King Eridan leaned back in his throne, already expecting another brief match. Queen Zephyr, however, continued watching the battlefield with quiet curiosity. And Asterin clasped her little hands together, her amber eyes shining with absolute faith.

“Come on, Papa,” she whispered excitedly. “Bring me my mummy.”

Across the arena, the laughter and whispers continued. To the nobles, the blacksmith was a fool. To the princess, he was an inconvenience. To the spectators, he was the entertainment before the next serious contender.

None of them knew what the ordinary commoner was truly capable of. None of them knew the fallen Fire Kingdom’s crown prince was standing among them. And none of them suspected that the man they were mocking possessed mastery over all four kingdoms’ elemental magic—a secret he had guarded for four years.

The announcer raised his staff.

“CHALLENGER AND CROWN PRINCESS, TAKE YOUR POSITIONS!”

The entire arena fell into an expectant hush. Nymera settled into her battle stance, absolute ice gathering around her hand.

“Whenever you’re ready, blacksmith.”

.