"The prophecy clearly states that any such warrior must be of a young age, most likely a teenager— "

"What?"

The cleric ignored the exclamation from the throne. They'd all gotten into the habit of ignoring the Queen and her odd ideas.

"So through a rigorous process of tests, we have decided—"

"A teenager?"

The cleric cleared their throat, darting an annoyed look at the throne.

"We have decided— "

"I will not listen to this any longer!" The voice cracked through the throne room like a whip through butter. Collapsing his scroll the cleric turned viciously towards the throne, only to be met with an equally vicious glare, as his Queen gripped the armrests of her gilded seat.

"Your Majesty," he said, the condescension dripping in his voice. "The prophe— "

"You want me to send a godsdamned teenager to fight when we have trained soldiers!" The queen rose, striding towards the cleric. "Have you finally sacrificed your mind to your deity Brother Anself? This idea is ludicrous."

Her nose inches from the cleric's she snarled at him, low and unable to be heard by the rest of the gathered officials.

"I will not let some innocent child be led into this by your kind. Not again. Not like what happened to— " Her voice cracked, but she rallied in an instant. "Not like what happened to me."

The cleric flinched back from the venom in her voice, the scroll crumpling under suddenly white knuckles. He'd never seen the Queen like this. Never seen their— raised to the throne by the priesthood— Queen, fight back against what a cleric said. Her eyes glowed with a strange light, the room seeming to darken around her.

"You can't stop—"

"I will do whatever I please Anself. Or have you forgotten that your kind invested me with ultimate power and rule? Oh, you did it to enact your own selfish ends, never thinking I could use it against you. But I can. And I will."

The Queen raised her arms, turning to the gathered crowd. Everyone was leaning forward, trying to hear what the two could possibly have been whispering about. They shifted back as the Queen started to speak.

"This growing menace of the Dark Lord in our land is horrifying. The prophecy calls for a teenager, an untried and pure-at-heart teenager. I believe this is absolute bullshit. But prophecy is never wrong. And so," She smiled viciously at the crowd. "And so. I will go against the Dark Lord."

There was a whimper from the cleric behind her. The crowd around them shuffled their feet in a concerted attempt to look anywhere but at their Queen.

"But I will not go alone! I will bring my elite soldiers from every corner of my castle and kingdom. And of course," She turned the predatory smile on Anself, who had crushed the scroll into a tiny ball. "Of course, I will need the priesthood around me, the deity's blessing." Anself actually cowered, moving away.

"Your Majesty!" A voice called out from the crowd, and she looked back, questioningly.

"Your Majesty, if prophecy is never wrong, you'll need a teenager! What about that?"Before responding, the Queen hissed at Anself.

"Drop it." He knew what she meant and dropped the magic that surrounded her with a hand gesture. The air warped and seemed to bend, as the guise of a woman in her forties disappeared, leaving a young girl in its place. The Queen smiled at the reactions in the crowd.

"I am but seventeen years old. I am the teenager. And I will go."

She turned and swept out of the room, a cowering cleric running in her wake. With the prophecy and her declaration, the balance of power had shifted in the castle and things would never be the same.

———————

Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!

"Bad news, my lord."
"Well, out with it, my minion."
"The king's not buying it."
"What?"
"I know, sir. He's just having none of it at all."
"But kings always fall for the Chosen One shtick. They send some poor hapless whelp while we roll their unprepared forces with our superior numbers. And you're saying that's not going to work?"
"I'm afraid it looks like not, my lord."
"Well, we'd best got to work actually training up our army then, I suppose."
"Already working on it, my lord."
"An actual fight? I just can't believe it."
"Well, this day was bound to come eventually... It was foretold."
"What?"
"Oh, yes, sire. Dark prophecy. It's said only a great lord of surpassing strength and valor could defeat the Wise King in single combat. You could always set out yourself and test that."
"...You think you're funny, minion?"
"I try, sir."

The Queen leaned on her scepter, pressing it to her forehead, soothing her. Before her, Castellan Hujo looked at a spot on the ground. Sweat pooled underneath his starched collar.

"Tell me again. Slowly. Why teenager is of more worth to my kingdom than my standing armies."

"Well--"

"And what does 'blue hair' have to do with any of this'?"

Castellan Hujo rubbed at his mustache. "I don't know, your Majesty. Truly, I don't. But...well...this has happened before. When a kingdom faces an existential threat, there's a chance--only a chance--child with blue hair will be born. That child, when grown is the last chance of a kingdom to save itself. I don't know why the blueness of their hair is important but..."

The Queen raised her hand, silencing the Castellan.

"You do know how utterly ridiculous this is, Hujo"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"And what kind of crises have these blue haired children helps avert?

Hujo took a breath and began to read off a list. Marauding dragons, conspiratorial viziers, demons disguised as gods, the sinking of cities...the list sent on for some time. Each new item softened the Queens's expression until she was staring blankly at the scepter.

"Have things really become so bad?" she whispered.

Slowly, the Vizier nodded his head.

"Bring them to me."

In days, the Queens men had found him. On his back was a sword far larger and heavier than any solider would reasonably use. At his side was another teenager--some childhood friend perhaps--looking at the blue-haired hero with unrestrained awe. On the hero's soldier sat a cat-like creature, in its paws a tattered spell book.

And on his head...a tuft of spiky blue hair.

"You want me to send... a child. A literal, actual, child?" The king shook his head. "My predecessor may have been fond of child soldiers, master prophet, but I am not."

"But surely, surely you cannot allow the entire kingdom to fall? The prophecy-"

"DAMN THE PROPHECY! We walked away from that cursed place, we chose to be better and DAMN IT!"

"So, what shall you do? You cannot hope to defeat the dark lord! Once you call prophecy from the gods it must come true, that's how this works. If you learn of the future it becomes written!"

The king slumped in his throne. He knew, he knew all of this. He'd learned it in the pristine academy when he was younger, his eldest brother's sacrifice for their former nation granting his family a lot of privilege.

"You cannot defeat him, sire."

The king breathed a sigh as dire as grave wind.

"There are... other ways to neutralize a threat".

The priest looked confused, and watched with some trepidation as the king began to call forth scribes and calligraphers, sending messengers to his court.

The priests eyes widened as he realized.

"YOU MEAN TO TRY DIPLOMACY? With that, that fiend?!"

The king looked to be a hundred years old in that moment, the vim and vigor of his young 20's completely lost.

"I will save my people. I will not allow another Omelas to rise on my soil. The monarchy, this monarchy, is finished. Perhaps it is for the best. One man should not have this much power over the lives of so many. In that, our dark lord is correct."

"So you mean to form an alliance?"

"Alliance? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Diplomatically we will have more options. We can win more time. He has shown himself to be open to negotiations witother nations. I cannot defeat him. But I will not doom a child to suffer in my stead. If I fail, it will be my burden. I will leave my people the tools to stand without me, and if I fail they will be left the means to try again."

The king rose, his confident posture and determination returning.

"I am no longer a hero, nor was I ever truly one. In fact, if my brother still lived, he'd probably call me a coward, or worse. But... but I cannot allow what you suggest. But a diplomat? This... this perhaps I can do."

"I assure you, Your Majesty, that the prophecy is quite clear on the matter. 'For the threat of the Dark One shall loom over all until such time as the Chosen One shall step forth and end the dreadful threat forever. Ye shall know the Chosen One by the seven signs, and the seven feats, and the sev-'"

"YES, Yes, thank you VERY MUCH, Brother Calhart, as if I didn't have enough frustrations with the sheer stupidity of your proposal, you go and remind me why I had to learn that damned Septimal number system as a boy. A number system that is used only by your church's elders for daily business, and only by the rest of us to count the days of the week. Is the entire rest of your argument about to give me an apoplectic fit?!"

"Well, Sire, the fact of the matter is that four of the signs have identified the Chosen One, and he-"

"FOUR! Out of SEVEN! Did you not just say it needed to be Seven Signs? Well, did you?"

The cleric took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and if his left hand gripped the icon of his order in a silent prayer for patience, the king's focused gaze clearly chose to ignore the gesture. "The remaining Three Signs will be demonstrated as he faces the Trials, but as the Fourth Sign occurs only at the 77-year interlude of the Holy Comet, which passed a fortnight ago, it would be impossible for another to emerge in our lifetimes, oh wise king. And the event was witnessed, he possesses the necessary Spark, we have tested this extensively. He IS the Chosen One, Sire, and as such we must set him on the journey now so that the remaining Signs can mark him and the Trials can be met. Or do you intend to allow your loyal, trained soldiers to face the threat of the Dark One's armies and certain death at the hands of the Dark One when they find themselves unable to kill him?"

"So, you would have me hold my soldiers back, allow the Dark One the time to grow his power until it would nearly overwhelm the entire kingdom, and then trust our fate to a single, untrained adolescent male? Will you be personally keeping the lad hidden to prevent him from getting himself killed by assassins? How about keeping him from horses, lest the boy die by getting kicked in the head when he spooks his loyal steed?"

"Are you jesting, Sire?"

"Are you? Is the entirety of your Church nothing more than a generations-long running joke? Because between the stupid counting system and the insanity on that dusty old scroll I begin to think the whole thing is an absurdist satire."

"Would you prefer to send your soldiers to their certain, premature doom?" asked Brother Calhart, finally putting a bite into his words.

"And if we wait for the Dark One to amass an army of all the evil creatures he can bind, won't my soldiers die then?"

"Most will, Sire," replied the cleric. "But some will survive, and you can give your soldiers some more time while the Chosen One prepares to meet destiny. This is as the Gods will it to be."

"Well, then the gods willed it that I should stand here and try something. But very well, let us trust to the gods. I will take the army now and deal with the Dark One, because I know that should work, and you can go and do whatever else needs doing to get the Chosen One ready. And since your faith is so great and your prophecy so holy, you should be happy to realize that you'll be right, and I'll be dead. Away with you now," the king said, shooing the priest like a cat too close to the milk bowl.

"As you wish, Sire. I shall weep for the unnecessary losses," Calhart said, before offering a small bow and turning to depart the audience chamber.

After a moment, the king turned to look at his High Marshal. "Well, Hal, that was about as pleasant as a visit from my mother-in-law, and just as unproductive."

"Not quite, Your Majesty," the old soldier said. "The Revered Lady of Sommerfelt does actually know horses, and the Cavalry is all the better for her preferred method of paying her taxes."

"So, what would you do?"

"Everything you proposed should be done. We can win right now. We just can't kill the Dark One. Doesn't mean we can't capture him, throw him in the dungeons for a decade, chained up and unfed. Once the Chosen One completes the Trials, we hold one of our own. Drag the Dark One, or whatever is left, out to the public square, make a show of allowing him a chance to defend himself, pass the judgment we both know is deserved, and the Chosen One shoots the Dark One with a crossbow bolt or two to kill that blighter off for good. Maybe burn the body and scatter the ashes, just to be certain."

"Very well, best go tell the wife I'm calling the troops up and going on campaign. She'll be pissed at having to take these meetings while we're out. Send word where you need, we leave in the morning."

"At your command, Sire."

[Keys to Questing]

"Damnit...," Keys sighed at the king's outburst. He was the chosen one; but, it seemed the king was hesitant about letting him do his job. After a moment's consideration, he decided to stay and try to convince the king himself.

"Your highness, I'm not an average teenager," Keys stepped closer to the throne and held his left hand out with the palm facing up. forward. A long, thin piece of metal emerged from his palm; he grabbed it with his right hand and pulled it up making it grow longer. Finally, it was free of his palm and he held a two-foot-long jagged metal rod in his right hand.

"A simple trick well executed," the king chuckled. "You're a talented magician. All the more reason not to send you to your death."

"It's not a trick," Keys replied. He flipped his hand over and began raining short pieces of grey metal down. Dozens of fragments fell to the stone ground with rapid, loud clinks. To further illustrate, he also dropped the rod and began raining metal out of his right hand. Within moments he had a pile of scraps at his feet. The king sat up straighter and looked on with interest.

"Indeed not...," the king admitted. "You know true magic?" he asked. Keys shook his head.

"It's not magic, your highness," he replied. "It's just something I can do."

"You can create metal from nothing?" the king asked. His eyes narrowed as the gears turned in his head. Then, he nodded. "I see now why you are the chosen one. GUARDS!" he shouted. A dozen armored guards rushed into the throne room and the king nodded at Keys. "Take him to the royal smithy," he ordered.

"Wait, what?" Keys asked. He shook his head as a pair of guards grabbed his arms. He held his ground when they tried to pull him away. "I need to defeat the dark lord in combat!" he said. The king looked on but did not hurry to reply to Keys' protests.

"What are you waiting for?" the king asked. Several guards were now trying to pull Keys out of the throne room; but, he was notably stronger than all of them combined.

"This isn't how this is supposed to go...," Keys grumbled to himself. "Your highness, please," Keys knelt effortlessly, despite the group of hands trying to drag him away. "Just give me permission to go fight; I could've been done already."

"Nonsense," the king shook his head. "With your talents, my army will never lack weapons or armor; you're too valuable to the kingdom now," he focused on the guards and raised his voice. "WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE!?"

"I told you...," Keys stood up again and took a step forward. The simple motion somehow yanked the guards forward and off their feet. They fell onto the pile of scrap with a ruckus as Keys approached the throne. "...I'm not an average teenager." Keys held his palm facing forward and a long, thin, serrated rod shot forward out of his hand; the point stopped inches from the king's eyes.

"GUARDS!!!!!" the king yelled. The king was surrounded by the same group of armored men that could not remove Keys. They tried moving the rod out of the king's face, but they could not so much as nudge it out of place. Keys was too strong.

"Grant me permission to kill the demon lord so I can finish this quest already," Keys said. "Your trained soldiers are no match for me and neither is the demon lord."

"You dare threaten me??" the king asked. He had good intentions at first. He wanted to keep the teen safe; dying in battle was a man's job and Keys was still just a boy. He'd already proven himself capable, but that wasn't the issue anymore. The king was personally offended now. "I will not be bullied by a traitor to the kingdom," he said.

"Alright, fine," Keys shrugged, then, he shoved his hand forward a few inches and broke the rod free of his hand once it was securely through the king's head. Then, he brought his hands in front of him at about chest height and began wiggling his fingers as if he was typing on something.

The metal rod fell free and bounced on the empty throne a couple of times before falling to the floor. Despite the fact that he had murdered the king and made him disintegrate, the guards stood in place waiting for orders. A cloud of white specs gathered on the throne as Keys typed away on nothing, and in moments, a new king sat on the throne. He looked exactly the same as the previous one; but, his demeanor was different. He looked at Keys and smiled broadly.

"Ah, Chosen one!" he said. "Will you help me defeat the Dark Lord?" he asked. Keys grinned.

"Do I have your permission to defeat him?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, of course! Please bring peace to my kingdom."

"Finally!" Keys nodded with a broad smile. A text notification appeared in the top corner of his view.

[Quest Accepted]

***
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1747 in a row. (Story #301 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at this link.

"Okay ya know what... fuck you". I said finally tired of his shit.

"We all wipe your ass daily and you want to send everyone to die???" I continued while he was to dumbstruck to act. "Our teenagers have alot in common and since you didn't even fucking TRY diplomacy properly."

I expected the guards to strike me down swiftly for dare challenging the king. But instead the dozen honor guards just started laughing until they were almost doubled over.

"About time someone put that little shit in his place. My brother was telling that the "darklord" actually accepts their peoples union and lives no better than any of her subjects."

"A WOMAN!!! YOU ARE ALL SCARED OF A WOMAN!!!" The king raged.

"Show some respect for your betters you whiny little shit. Its about time you grow up."The guard closest to the king smacked him in the back of his head.

"Ya know what...." The lead soldier said "who needs this asshole" as he spoke he ripped the king from his throne and flung him across the room."

"You want the job sir?" The captain asked.

"Hell no look what it did to that asshole." I said waving my hand. "Beside he didn't actually do anything anyways just made others do the work and took the credit."

"Good point." As the captain spoke another guard came forward ending a call on his cellphone.

"So called my brother and the Darklord started crying she was so happy he said. They are throwing a celebration party and we are all invited!!!"

"How did they throw that together so fast?" The captain asked?

"Turns out they have been prepared for an eternity. They were just waiting for us to figure things out."

"Sweet" said the guards in unison.

One of the younger guards spoke up "but who will guard the castle?"

"Who cares we are turning it into housing for all the people anyways."

The Seventeenth Lord of Merician, Simonius Ravenbeard, brought his fist down on the arm of his throne. "ENOW!" he bellowed. "I WILL NOT SEND MY SON TO HIS POTENTIAL DOOM ON THE WORD OF SOME SMOKE-ADDLED CHRONOMANCER, AND THAT IS AN END TO IT!"

Chronicler Nai-Ralev drew a sharp breath. "I seem to remember, My Lord, that you were a lot more receptive to-"

"DO NOT consider Finishing that sentence," Ravenbeard sternly said, "unless you intend to become acquainted with Stable duty, OR you are recommending something from the kitchens to soothe my temper."

"Perhaps then," the Chronicler smiled a conniving smile, "You, my Lord, would accept this challenge in his stead?"

"Well if that's the case," Ravenbeard's mood brightening, "why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"My Love", interrupted the Queen, "Have you no Faith in our son?"

"I have every faith in our Son," Ravenbeard said, Diplomatically, "to handle anything from enemy soldiers to Armoured Ogres, but the Dark Lord himself is no job for a veritable Neophyte, even one of my own Considerably, er, "enhanced", Bloodline. And would I not have Merician's Premier elven Mage at my side?"

Usha Raven blushed slightly.

"Then it is Decided!" Said the king, picking up his sword.

After all, the prophecy said that a union of Swarthenboch and Elf would be the combination needed to end the reign of darkness at the edge of Merician. Still, Breneric, their son, would not be denied.

But the great legend that is the defeat of the Dark Lord, is an epic in and of itself...

"Yeah! A teenager" The kid said, already present. "A peasant's kid, that's right"

"Yes! You haven't been trained with the sword, you don't have what it takes to defeat the Dark Lord!" The King said.

"But I have! I've always had this strong magic I couldn't control, I live with my uncle because I nuked my parents's house in an outburst!" The kid shouted. "And I've been friends all my life with the young men you have sacrificed like lamb to this madman's slaughter!"

"I know my nephew is the one chosen by the Prophecy because I've raised him as my own, ever since I rescued him from the blasted heat he left behind after obliterating my sister's farm" The priest said. "He has little control of it, but I'm sure that if we train him into our magic arts, he'll become the key to finally put an end to this madness"

"One month. I'm giving you one month to train the boy, priest" The king conceeded. "Then he'll duel with my Royal Mage"

"Wait, what?!" The priest shouted, scared.

"If this kid really is so strong he can obliterate an entire farm in an outburst, I'm sure that with one month of practice he might duel toe to toe with the strongest mage in all our kingdom" The king said, wanting to shatter this kid's perceived cockiness and naivety.

"I'll do my best, my liege" The kid said.

"Look... I know she sounds crazy. But she made a sword that can cut through armor with nothing but some rocks and a furnace. She knows things that our best alchemists don't. Something called 'molecules' and much more elements than the five"

The Queen looked down on the Supervisor and seemed deep in thought. He was dressed in royal attire that someone of his status would normally be crucified for wearing and wore a crown, that was part of the masquerade.

When the Summoning managed to provide a human-shaped being that responded to words, they took her aside and quickly figured out that she thought she was needed to complete a heroic quest to save the world. They were preparing an escort to the burial pit when one of her interrogators asked "What is a bomb?"

Since then she was rushed to the upper class part of town, blindfolded so that she wouldn't see the slaves, under a rushed explanation that made Karthos the supervisor: "the 'scyscrapers' are being constructed with powerful magics that would hurt your eyes, my lady". From then on he played the part of the noble King defending humankind from a plague of monsters. Which is not really that far from how some of the pamphlets put it.

"So she insists on going to battle against the evil enemy. We aren't going to lose her. And we need her cooperation for the 'bomb' and 'gas' to deal with the Elysian problem. And you.. well, we do say that high responsibilities come with appropriate punishments. For someone with a job as important as yours ... I will have to think"

Those were the worst five words Karthos has ever heard. The queen was a genius when it came to sadistic executions, when the road to the capital led through the former village of rebellious slaves, he almost wished he could drive his horse blindfolded himself so he would not have to see their mutilated bodies on display. Her thinking...

"I will do so at once, your majesty. I will take some Elysian prisoners and cut out their speech organs. We'll make them look like monsters, give them dull blades, and send our guest with some guards in case she finds that a challenge. We will tell her she is on a mission to find what she needs for her project, and we will prepare the materials needed for our new method of extermination. I thank Your Majesty for granting me permission to leave."

Because of your wit and knowledge, you've become a very wise and prosperous king. Your subjects are loyal to you and you provide benefits for your workers. The oracle in front of you now is one such worker. You cannot help but to think how you have housed her and fed her when no one was willing to pay for her services, and now she comes to you with a prophecy.

"Your son," she says, wearily glancing at the young man, "He is the chosen one, meant to travel to the far land, past the closest town, and return a wealthy man. If he does not, your kingdom will surely fall."

You lean forward to peer down at her, eyes hardened towards her face as she sinks into whimpers.

She doesn't want to bring this news to you, but felt it was her duty. She tells you the god Maralius came to her while she was by the river last night. She confides in you that the God demanded her only tell your son, but she felt you must know as well.

Maralius was a cruel trickster, but has always been kind to your people. In your reign he hasn't bothered you or your kingdom. You glance at your son, "Joseph?"

"Yes, father?" Joseph replies. He is by no means scrawny. He's a fairly average boy with shaggy hair that looks like yours did, bright eyes that love to peruse the court, and freckles speckled strongly across his cheeks and collar.

"You won't be going." His face fell slightly at your dismissal, and you returned your attention to the Oracle, who was still on her knees looking at you, "As for you. I want you to see Maralius and tell him I will send as many trained people as he wants and as many soldiers as he may need but by no means will anyone younger than official be anywhere but my fertile ground."

The oracle did not respond to you, instead slowly rising and slinking off to, no doubt, tell the few people who would speak to her how horrible you had treated her. Some people just aren't very grateful.

The court drew back in awe as the words of the Queen drew from her mouth like swords from the sheathe.

“But your Majesty, if you’ll just see his capabilities, you’ll note he’s more than-“ Said Chancellor Grivon.

“ENOUGH. I WILL SEE TO IT. MY SOLDIERS WILL ACCOMPANY ME!”

I decide to speak, as my years of training will not go to waste here. I will slay the forces of the Darkheld, whether I am told to or not.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, May I please be allowed to demonstrate what I can do? My only goal is to be allowed to do this.”

“Ho, you hold yourself brave, boy. Stand, and face Ainsylwith. I will see to it that our finest wizard teach you the powers you willingly defy.”

Not an hour later, I am set to fight Magistrate Ainsylwith, Stongest of The Queen. She has lost her children to the Darkheld, so I see that she want not another child to be lost to the evil that lurks beyond the Mountain.

The crowd looks in silence as Ainsylwith lumbers onto the field of battle. He looks solemnly at the Queen, who says:

“Show the boy mercy. The battle is already in your favor.”

“Yes, my lady.” His words sounded shattered and broken.

He charges, and the trumpets sound. A Phoenix Flame erupts from his blade. I dodge, and feel the thunder in my legs. He realizes it not, but he is open. And even though it’s for a split second, I can cover the gap. Electric energy swarms my legs, and I practically leap to him. Within an instant, he has been cut, and frozen from the legs up to the wounded chest area.

“Ice Age, Cavernous Crash.”

His head falls and his shoulders lower. He is not dead, but certainly won’t be feeling his legs anytime soon. Before it happened, the crowd fell silent, and the big band stopped, confused.

The Queen rose, and with a grim face, said

“Clearly, you have proven yourself worthy. I appreciate you for heeding the words I gave to poor Ainsylwith. Ainsylwith, my rock, thank you for trying. But you, young lad, have proven me wrong, and may my court bear witness. I declare thee, The Grand Champion! Take your party and lead them into the depths of the Darkhelds repugnant depths, and slay it from within! Best of luck, and we will give support.”

The crowd sighed and cheered, acknowledging their new hero. Finally, it’s time for an adventure.

"Well, when put in that manner, your Majest-"

"AND IN WHAT MANNER WOULD THAT BE?"

"A very factual manner, admittedl-"

"I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS, THIS NATTERING, ANY. FUCKING. LONGER."

"A very natt-ural fucking then, ascribedl-"

"ARE YOU QUITE DONE?"

"No, I'm borderline tired, getting to be done, your majesty. Getting there. So very tired. How are you do-"

"AS I HAVE GODDAMNEDLY STATED: You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS"

"Well it isn't about my wants is it, it's about the prophe-"

"DON'T SAY IT"

"It's about the proph-"

"DON'T"

"It's what the pro-"

"SAY"

"phe-"

"IT"

"Cy says. I mean, when has it failed us before, your Maj-"

"IT's not a matter of the prophecy. It's about.. Oh what was it!? Something about we have trained soldiers and teenagers are in the mix? Fuck it. Do what you like, Count Crumpet. I'll be ordering room service and then eating some. Crumpets, that is."

"So, we good with sending an untrained, unskilled, undifferentiated, unknown, undocumented, unaccountable-for, unconscious, uncut, unelectable, unrestrainable teenager to the frontlines over trained soldiers who might actually be able to do the job?"

"Are you still here?"

50 Years Later

"Here marks the graves of a thousand thousands enemy soldiers who perished on that fateful morn of that bloody.. some day... Here is one of the few places in this world and in these times where we honor our enemy's sacrifice to the unsatiated, unstoppable machine that is the teenager".

Light gasps and nervous titters sweep through the small raggedy crowd.

"Yes, that's right, this is that one, that one that was, that one foretold that the final battle shall be won not by the King's honorable soldiers, the Crown Carvers, but why, by a teenage unknown.."

120 Years Later

"As you can see, dear followers, this was clearly the site of a burial... place.. Dating back literally millennia. Some date this grave site as being upwards of one-thousand two hundred years old. A lot of people died to make this site, literally!"

"Excuse me, are you authorized to be here?"

"One sec gang, got a live one!" .. "Sorry bro, I'm just wrapping up."

"Well you can't do that here, not if you don't have a press pass."

"Okay dude-o, how can I get a press pass?"

"Well, the prophet presses a pass for life's dreamers."

The king visibly angry at the people around him shouts "WHAT IN THE FUCKING HOLY GODS ASSHOLE CAN A TEENAGER DO TO A FUCKING DEMON GOD"

After the king shouts the room was filled with silence aside from the whimpering of the advisors "y-y-you see y-your h-highness a-a-according to the p-p-proph-".

His sentence was immediately cut by the king glaring daggers at them further sinking them in fear "let me get this straight. So your telling me a thousand men who's trained in combat most in of thier lives IS A LESS BETTER SOLUTION THAN A FUCKING TEENAGER JUST BECAUSE OF A FUCKING RUMOR" the rooms shakes as the king let his voice out again

"W-w-well your h-h-highness it's not a rumor it's a prophecy as old as time. A boy wielding a sword of light well come and sa-" the king cuts his sentence off yet again.

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR A BED TIME STORY LUIZ IM ASKING FOR THE STASTICS AND LOGIC ON HOW IS A TEENAGER IS MORE EFFECTIVE THAN A THOUSAND TRAINED MEN" this time one of advisors collapse due to the amount of stress.

"H-h-honestly your h-highness w-were not s-sure ourselves, the p-prophecy never s-s-stated on how the boy will defeat the d-d-demon G-g-od"

"So your not sure" the king said in a more calmer tone this time.

"Y-y-yes"

"So you have no evidence and proper reason on why we should send a teenager to fight a demon God".

"C-c-correct your highness"

"Hmm, that only means one thing. HUEZ" suddenly a man with a gorgeous mostache in full armor burst through the door.

"You called your highness. In what way may I be of service"

"Tell all the knights to be ready and prepare supplies, were gonna launch an attack to the demon God.

"And bring the boy to me, I'll see if his really fit to save us".

His Royal Majesty, King-Emperor Armin Augustus Black, was revered as a wonderful ruler by his subjects. He was quite proud of his empire’s wealth, and was often dressed ornately. Today was no different. He wore fine silk pants and a royal blue coat that sported gold tassels and buttons atop a crisp white dress shirt. Delicate lace ruffles showed at the neck and sleeves. His high black boots were newly shined, and his deep red cape was lined with gold trim and white fur. The cape alone was befitting a king and it regally swept the white marble floor as he paced back and forth. His bearing carried a sense of purpose and poise that only a monarch of many years could command, and his green eyes were filled with decades-worth of knowledge and experience. His immaculately groomed black hair was always neatly tied back at the nape of his neck. All told, he was usually the very picture of patience and grace.

Just not at this particular moment.

"A teenager!? Out of a portal!? Is this true!?" He stopped pacing the floor and turned to face the table of kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, and barons and baronesses who sat and watched him. While most of the assembled royals watched him anxiously, some showed a look of surprise at never having seen him so worried, and others sat with a look of indifference, arrogantly telling themselves that Armin’s current worries could never be as important as their own precious time or money or social standing.

"Is it!?" King Armin demanded again, as an angry spray of spittle was sent flying from his mouth. His lips became a hard, flat line as he struggled to control his temper.

"Yes, it is indeed true, m'lord." A voice spoke up, and a figure swathed in a long white cloak stepped towards the monarch. He was followed by a parade of silent followers, with faces all hidden under their immaculate white hoods.

Armin allowed a quick hiss of breath to escape his gritted teeth as his emerald eyes sharpened in surprise and worry.

"Chancellor? Are you certain? This news is true?"

The chancellor bowed deeply, nodding his head. "Yes." He stood, gesturing towards the column of white-clothed figures behind him. They were the Pristine Knights. They alone were permitted to bear weapons in the King-Emperor’s presence, and their swords glittered with wear instead of ornamentation. They were a lethal force of elites, known for their skill, their utter lack of mercy, and their fanatic loyalty.

"Bring the boy forward!"

The white sea parted, and two of the Pristine Knights strode forward, an oddly dressed boy hooked through their arms. They thrust him ahead and he stumbled but then caught himself, looking around. He was wearing some sort of strange tunic with a hood attached. His pants were made out of an unknown blue fabric, and on his feet he wore shoes of a design never before seen in this world. Armin took in all of these details in an instant, and found that the most interesting thing about this boy was how absolutely dull he appeared to be despite his odd choice of attire. It is not necessary to describe the boy’s appearance - instead, just picture the most boring-looking person imaginable. He looked just like that. In jeans.

Armin took note of the boy, but said nothing. He was aware that there were kingdoms and cities all over the world, and they all dressed quite differently from one another. No matter how oddly this boy appeared to be, the King-Emperor’s foremost consideration was to uphold the integrity of himself, of his bloodline, and of his empire.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat and walked toward the boy, hands behind his back and head raised.

"What is your name, boy?"

The boy seemed to take note of him only then, looking up at him with eyes that were impossible to read. Armin decided that the boy’s expression was either extreme disgust or extreme disinterest. Either expression was unacceptably rude.

"I am Generic Name.” said the boy.

Armin froze for a moment as the boy spoke. After a heartbeat, his shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath.

"Oh." He cleared his throat once more, standing straighter than before and holding his head even higher. "Well, Generic Name, how did you come to find this kingdom?"

"I dunno." Generic Name said, shrugging with the ease of someone who was not at that moment in the presence of royalty. His expression did not change and neither did the tone of his voice. Armin was unsure what this meant. The boy continued speaking.

"I was just…minding my own business or whatever, and then this huge portal opened up out of nowhere, and I thought 'yeah, I got nothing better to do. My parents aren't gonna wonder where I am at all.' And then I kinda just…jumped in."

"Portal… a… portal, you say?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Was this portal glowing green, and did it have my crest on it!?" Armin asked, grabbing Generic Name roughly by the shoulders. He pointed to a button on his coat, with a depiction of a roaring lion engraved into it. "Yeah, that was it." Generic Name said, his expression and tone of voice as bland and boring and disinterested as ever.

Armin cursed under his breath, letting go of Generic Name as he stumbled backwards, touching a hand to his face.

"A portal… with my crest… that means… you were summoned to my kingdom. Maybe even from another world."

"Of course he was summoned, sire. We summoned him here ourselves."

Armin doubled over suddenly and made a sound like he had tried to swallow a live frog. He straightened again, turning to glare at the chancellor, who had just spoken. His eyes looked like hard, green ice, and his forehead, which had begun to bulge, now began throbbing along with the beat of his rapidly quickening pulse.

"Why would you summon a teenager from another world!? I gave no such order!" The King-Emperor strode toward the chancellor and his Pristine Knights.

"But sire, you should be overjoyed. Elated. The prophecy-"

"Now there's a prophecy!? Another thing you haven't told me! What does this prophecy say exactly?"

"That if we opened a portal to another world, a hero would come through it. Using his great magical prowess, he would save the world from the Demon King!"

"Eh!? A…a hero!? This boy!? Him!?" The king turned to point a long finger at Generic Name, who's expression suggested he was either day-dreaming or sleep-walking.

"Yes, sire. A hero with the power to save the entire world."

"You fools. You have doomed us all." King Armin could not speak of the contents of his secret library. The tales held within those dusty volumes haunted his dreams. He knew what came next.

The dull boy suddenly spoke up.

"Magic? Can I really do that?" Generic Name looked down at his open palm. He blinked, then raised his hand, holding it at shoulder level, palm up.

"Alright. I've never done this before, but okay. I’ll give it a shot."

A small black ball of energy appeared in the middle of Generic Name's palm. The ball grew to cover his palm, then became the size of his whole hand. A current of wind began to curl itself around Generic Name's body. The black ball of energy turned white, and bands of color streaked from the ball, snaking around Generic Name's hand. Generic Name raised his hand above his head and the energy ball grew many sizes bigger. He looked up toward the high, glass-domed ceiling of the room they were in. The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were gold in color, a shining, piercing gold that shamed the jewelry of the rapt nobles watching him.

"Up."

The large energy ball flew up, blasting through the domed ceiling. Glass shards showered those below as the energy ball flew higher up stiil, until it was nothing more than a white twinkle in the wide blue of the sky.

"Boom." said Generic Name, in a bored voice.

There was a huge rush of energy and the energy ball burst apart in a gigantic explosion, the shock wave felt even from the ground.

"Wha…what?" Armin gasped, hands shaking.

"Huh." Generic Name said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. "I was trying to hold back, but I guess I didn't do a very good job."

"You were… holding back!?" Armin said softly, stunned at the awesome power that had been unleashed before his very eyes. The secret records were all too true. This boy had all of the signs. His unbelievably boring appearance. His complete lack of emotions or personality. His amazing power. His name literally being Generic Name! He was…

"He's…an Isekai Protagonist!" Armin sobbed, grabbing his head in his hands and falling to his knees.

"A…what, sire?"

"The Demon King might be destroyed, but we will be too! They almost completely destroyed this kingdom many, many years ago with their unbelievably overpowered abilities. We tried hiring assassins to take them out, but they were all immediately defeated by huge swords, or lasers, or huge laser swords. I had hoped that the stories weren’t true but…THEY'RE REAL!" Armin leaned his head back and yelled long and loud, then slumped forward, sighing defeatedly.

"We're doomed. Chancellor, you're fired."

The King growls a shout, commanding silence with a gesture of his hand, a choke like grasp of his hand, as if strangling the very words from his subject. “This ‘boy’ has fought in, and experienced more bloodshed than half these halfwits have dared! Many and most care more for how full their balls are! This.. BOY.. has grown among the people, starved and fought beside them! He’s kin to them, knows them. What say for you of these.. ‘soldiers’ ..these men that have never walked amongst the common, nor fought outside of a tourney for their king! What say you?”

A silence draws amongst the council.

“But your majesty… you personally trained these soldiers!” The general replies.

“Yeah c**t but I was drunk off me tits, and banging whores lol” the King ripostes

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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