Lackey's Seducing Survival Odyssey

Chapter 1115: Choosing The Ruler: Part-2

Emberlyn quietly stepped out of the room as the girls continued to surround Aether from every direction. Their excitement, affection, and sheer energy had taken over the space, and Emberlyn—being the more reserved type—chose not to intrude.

She gave a small sigh, brushing her hair back behind her ear as she gently closed the door behind her.

Sometimes, it was better to give space… besides, who knew what might happen if she stayed?

And truthfully, she wasn’t ready to witness the full horror—or embarrassment—that could unfold in a room filled with lovestruck girls clinging to a man like that.

As she stepped further into the hallway, she spotted Maelona and Liora up ahead. They stood by the main entrance, greeting the elders of various tribes with grace and dignity, their expressions calm but alert. Despite the lingering pressure from the Empire’s recent disaster, they carried themselves with unwavering poise.

Gathering her nerves, Emberlyn approached them.

“M-May I help you?” she asked, her voice a little shaky, her hands awkwardly clasped in front of her.

Liora blinked in surprise at first, then gave a warm smile and nodded quickly. “Of course. You can stand here with us—it’ll be helpful,” she said, beginning to turn away. “I just need to run back to the room real quick—”

She didn’t even get halfway through her step.

Maelona’s hand shot out, grabbing Liora by the tail mid-spin. “You are not going anywhere,” she said with sharp finality, her fingers sparking with a faint blue light as her tone turned stern.

Liora immediately froze, her entire body stiffening. She recognised that spark—the cursed butterfly. It was elegant, yes, but also infamous for draining energy in the most inconvenient ways.

“Ugh… not that stupid butterfly,” Liora groaned under her breath. “You know I hate that thing…”

With a deeply exaggerated sigh, she slouched beside Maelona with a pout and resigned expression.

Maelona turned to Emberlyn next, her tone softening. “Don’t feel nervous. Aether already spoke to me about you,” she said with a small smile. “So don’t be afraid. Just be yourself and stand tall. You belong here.”

Emberlyn’s eyes widened slightly at that. Her heart warmed at the thought—Aether had gone out of his way to speak for her.

Awkwardly, she scratched her cheek and nodded. “Son-in-law… always so protective of me,” she muttered with a faint smile, a mixture of appreciation and embarrassment in her tone.

She turned her attention forward and quietly began to assist them in welcoming the arriving tribe elders. There was something fulfilling about being part of this—standing among leaders and watching as ancient traditions unfolded right before her.

And soon… it began.

The ceremonial horns sounded softly in the distance, a low but commanding note echoing through the air.

The elders took their seats in the front row of the arena, forming a semi-circle that looked out toward the grand stage. They sat with dignified silence, each one a representative of their people—each one carrying centuries of history and expectation on their shoulders.

Behind them, positioned at a raised platform, sat Aqualina, Helena, Raven, Selene, and Thalia. They were dressed in fine ceremonial clothes that reflected their roles and heritage, their postures composed, their expressions respectful.

Aether was among them, seated firmly in the centre. His gaze wandered across the arena, sharp and attentive, yet there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

He didn’t know what was going to happen next.

In the centre of the colossal arena, Maelona and Liora stood together. Liora gave a wave of her hand, activating the broadcast system. A soft vibration hummed through the air as light orbs blinked into place across the sky—projectors, microphones, and stones-enhanced sound arrays. They lit up with gentle pulses of energy.

Lyirrs stood at the edge of the control platform, her hands gracefully moving across the air interface as she synchronised the visuals and sound across every corner of the Empire.

Yes, Lyirrs had been helping them with the broadcast.

One that would reach every city, village, floating isle, and cavern where citizens of the Zephyra Empire dwelled.

Maelona stepped forward, slowly raising the microphone to her lips. She closed her eyes for a second, gathering her thoughts. When she opened them, her voice rang clear, strong, and filled with restrained emotion.

“Citizens of the Aerionis Zephyra Empire—I stand before you not only as the overseer of the Throne Ceremony… but as someone who has wept alongside you in the shadow of our shared suffering.

We all have felt it.

The recent disaster has shaken the very bones of our home. It stole lives, tore through homes, and filled our hearts with uncertainty.

But despite it all… here we are.

Still standing.”

She paused, letting silence fall. A reverent hush swept across the arena. Not even the wind dared to interrupt her words.

Her voice returned, firmer now, rising with slow conviction.

“We are not just survivors… We were born in fire, shaped by storms, and tempered by every hardship thrown our way.

We do not kneel to fear. We do not break under tragedy.

We rise.

And we rise… together.”

She stepped forward again, her eyes scanning the arena, the gathered elders, the representatives, the watching crowd.

“This Throne Ceremony will not be delayed.

Not because we ignore the wounds of the past—but because we know the importance of symbols in times like these.

Because hope… matters.

Unity… matters.

And what greater symbol of our unity and hope than the emergence of a true heir—someone who can lead not just with power, but with vision, with heart, and with the courage to carry our legacy forward?”

She raised her hand toward the centre of the arena, her voice lifting with intensity.

“Let it be known throughout every city, every land, and every riverbank…

The Final Test of the Throne Ceremony begins today!”

As Two Fingers Emerged from the Grounds.

Aria stepped forward, clad in partial armour that shimmered under the sunless light—still beautiful despite the countless scratches that marked its surface. Her silver hair flowed like silk in the breeze, dancing around her shoulders with grace, yet there was nothing delicate about her presence, holding a bow in her hand.

She radiated an aura of royalty… but not the passive kind.

No, she exuded the deadly confidence of a warrior queen—elegant, unshakable, and terrifyingly composed.

Beside her walked Kaelen, also wearing partial armour, though his was darker, more practical in design, worn from battle. His long, onyx-colored hair streamed behind him, each strand moving as if charged with intensity. His tail stood straight, his every step leaking a silent but unmistakable killing aura.

His eyes burned with sharp focus.

Together, they walked side by side until they stood before their mothers—Liora and Maelona. The two young warriors lowered their heads in a deep, respectful bow.

Maelona and Liora looked at one another, then gently raised their hands over the heads of their children—as if blessing them in silent unity.

Then, Aria and Kaelen turned toward the Elders of the various tribes seated in the honored row. They bowed once again, deep and respectful.

Finally, they turned toward the people—thousands of eyes watching them from all corners of the arena, from balconies, magical screens, floating sky platforms, and projected holograms. The two bowed once more, this time longer… an acknowledgement to the citizens of the Empire who had come to witness their rise or fall.

Standing up straight, they said nothing—but their eyes revealed the pride and weight they carried.

Liora stepped forward, her voice amplified across the empire through Lyirrs’ crystal broadcast system.

“The Final Test…” she began, her voice clear and commanding, “…is a race.”

She let the word hang in the air for a moment before continuing, her hand waving as a large illusionary projection lit up the sky above the arena.

The image showed a long, winding route—zig-zagging through mountains, plunging through dense forests, racing across vast deserts and snowy fields, and weaving through treacherous rivers. Staff markers and checkpoints had been placed throughout the course.

“This race,” Liora continued, “will stretch nearly the full length of the Empire.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“The first to finish will be declared the winner of this challenge…”

Aria and Kaelen nodded, their expressions unreadable.

Kaelen tilted his head slightly toward Aria and smirked. His black eyes glimmered with confidence. This was his realm. Speed was his weapon. If it came down to sheer pace, there was no one in the Empire who could outmatch him… except his mother, of course!

But even as Kaelen prepared to dash, Liora raised her hand again.

“However…”

She clapped once, and a sudden wave of pressure swept across the arena like a pulse of thunder.

The massive gates at the far end opened with a low, grinding growl—and then they came.

Thousands of warriors marched into the arena in well-formed lines, each bearing a serious expression. Their armors gleamed, their weapons drawn. The air trembled with power.

“These,” Liora said as she gestured to the approaching army, “are your first obstacle.”

The crowd gasped.

“You must each defeat one thousand warriors. Their strength ranges from Silver One Star to Golden Five Star,” she explained, her tone cold and serious. “Only after you have defeated your quota can you begin the race. Until then, you cannot advance.”

Both Aria and Kaelen blinked in genuine surprise.

Aria’s grin widened, her silver eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Kaelen narrowed his gaze. This changed everything.

What Liora didn’t say aloud—but what both warriors were beginning to realise—was that this test had been carefully crafted by Maelona after long analysis of their skills.

Aria, while not exceptionally fast in long-distance, was unmatched when it came to handling groups. Her arrows were fast, numerous, and brutally precise. She could dance around hundreds with ease—an agile predator in a sea of enemies.

Kaelen, on the other hand, was a storm of power and speed. His single-target combat ability was unmatched, and in a straight race, he’d leave Aria in the dust. But against crowds? He’d face more trouble, especially if they ganged up.

Both had advantages.

Both had weaknesses.

But more importantly… both needed to understand the real trial.

The true challenge wasn’t strength or speed.

It was timing.

Understanding themselves.

Understanding each other.

And using that knowledge to find the path to victory.

If they acted without thought—burned all their strength in the battle phase or rushed blindly into the race—they would lose. But if they observed, adapted, and truly understood the spirit of this test… then they had a chance.

Liora took a step back, her voice sharp and thrilling.

“Now then… let the Final Battle… Begin!!”

She grabbed Maelona’s arm, and together they leapt into the air, rising in a beautiful arc before landing gracefully on the high platform, just beside where Aether sat.

Aether was still surrounded by the girls—Selene draped over one shoulder, Thalia on the other, Raven clinging close, and Helena not far behind.

He blinked, watching the thousands of warriors and the two young candidates below.

“That’s… one hell of a test,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Maelona giggled, folding her arms with pride.

“It had to be,” she replied softly. “This isn’t just a throne—it’s a future.”

Aether nodded thoughtfully.

On the platform, Maelona slowly sat beside him and leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming.

“Now… let’s see who makes the first move,” she whispered with a tone full of curiosity and hidden amusement.

The crowd held its breath.

And down below—two warriors stood, surrounded by thousands… waiting to see who would move first.

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