The two princesses from earlier no longer seemed out of place now that everyone was back together, especially since the other girls were dressed in similarly styled clothing.
The gems on their crowns seemed to sparkle even more now, perhaps as if to reaffirm their status, and the eldest sister, Vianell, appeared to carry herself with even more haughtiness.
Like the other boys, Logan sensed that some kind of rivalry had begun to stir, but he chose to stay quiet and go along with the group.
Once everyone was ready, they began descending the spiral staircase until they reached the ground floor, where a few stationed guards waited to escort them.
As the last in line, Logan kept having to adjust his hat, especially the feather that jutted out and irritated him.
After making their way through several more hallways, they finally arrived at a grand chamber with its doors thrown wide open, revealing a room that was already filled to capacity.
Everyone, including Logan, felt a surge of anxiety as they braced themselves for their introduction to the king.
No one had asked if this was what they wanted, but they all knew they had no say in the matter.
At least not at this moment.
Not when they had no idea where they were, how they'd arrived, or what any of it truly meant.
What could they possibly do against a kingdom where heavily armored individuals stood watch at every turn?
Even the maid who had previously tended to Logan now displayed an unsettling adoration that sent chills down his spine.
It wasn't just the presence of swords and polished armor that unsettled him—it was the way these people looked at the class, their eyes filled with expectation.
Logan genuinely believed the young maid would sacrifice her life for him if it came to that.
She seemed so utterly grateful just to be allowed to serve him.
From earlier conversations, it was clear that the boys welcomed the kindness and enjoyed the attention the maids offered, some even reveled in bliss with the limited time they had.
As for the girls, Logan remembered seeing Alma gently caressing the rings she had received, how she—and the others—seemed enamored with their newfound wealth.
It all pointed to one thing—they were being bought off.
Their futures were likely already taking shape, determined by whatever came next.
Half of the students had already begun indulging in the comforts and pleasures this world had to offer.
They didn't take long to arrive at the doors of the throne room. Applause broke out from those already present as the group entered the vast, opulent hall.
The two princesses led the way, followed by the girls, all guided along a rich red carpet that ascended to a platform where two lavish thrones—deep red with gold trim—stood in prominence.
Seated before them were a man who looked to be in his fifties and a woman in her mid-to-late thirties.
The man—clearly the king—was bald and overweight, yet traces of the charm that likely drew many women in his younger years remained.
He wore elegant red and gold robes that mirrored the throne's color scheme. His handsom face, stature, and choice of spouse might have been his most admirable traits.
In contrast, the woman was strikingly beautiful, with long golden hair intricately braided.
She wore a flowing gold gown with red accents, and like her daughters, she bore a face so refined it seemed crafted to resemble a classical Greek or Roman deity.
As the summoned students entered, they did not bow.
Instead, they stood in silence, watching, waiting.
One by one, they formed a neat line in front of the thrones, with the princesses guiding them into place.
Logan noticed that the younger of the two sisters was more perceptive than her older sibling. She seemed quick to notice when a student hesitated and offered calming words with a sweet, innocent smile that eased more than a few nerves.
As the last in line, Logan felt the weight of every gaze settled on him for a few seconds.
He couldn't help but notice the king's steady inspection of each student, but it was the queen's intense stare that caught him off guard.
Her gaze moved slowly from one face to the next, appraising each student, until finally, it lingered on him.
He was in the middle of adjusting his hat—again—and for a moment, their eyes met.
He didn't mean to stare, but something in her expression held him there, frozen it seemed almost like a type of power that was being used on him.
It lasted only a few seconds before the king gave a deep cough and raised his hand, silencing the room.
"His Royal Majesty, King Holven Elstin the Third, and Her Majesty, Queen Olvidia Madrin, are assembled on this prophesied day to present the heroes summoned by the Temple of the Seven Spirits!" a man declared, standing a few steps below the king.
The room fell into complete silence, and after a brief pause, the king began to speak.
"Heroes," the king said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion, "I thank you on behalf of all humanity in this world for answering our call and responding to our summoning in this time of desperate crisis. We sought strength, but what we received was far more.
This time, a group of youthful individuals has been sent to us, and that alone gives me hope."
A few seconds passed as the king coughed, then he resumed.
"I swear, here and now, to help each and every one of you become strong enough to face the dangers that lie ahead. I have high hopes for all of you."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the gathered students, locking eyes with each one in turn before continuing.
"Our enemies are the treacherous demon—beings who once enslaved humanity. Thanks to the first hero, Roland, we reclaimed our freedom. But now, these demons have returned in great numbers and are steadily spreading, corrupting every corner of the land they can reach.
"They had already taken half of this continent... until, a few months ago, the spirits delivered a message—one that told us we could summon a hero once more."
The king's voice grew louder, more fervent.
"And so, I humbly beg of you... Help us. Save us. Rid this world of the demons that threaten it!"
As the king stood tall, his voice booming with passionate conviction, the hall erupted into thunderous applause.
The people standing behind Logan and his classmates began to cheer, hailing them with declarations of adoration, faith, and goodwill.
Now at the center of attention, the class turned to face the crowd—and saw firsthand how deeply these people believed in them.
They were seen as saviors, symbols of hope.
With the presence of armored guards stationed throughout the hall, Brian stepped forward cautiously before speaking.
"If I may ask... how are we supposed to assist you?" he began. "We're just teenagers. Some of these guys don't even take their sports classes seriously."
Though his comment came across as a jab at the class as a whole, Logan could tell the words were directed at him.
Brian's tone carried a weight, an undercurrent of frustration and conflicted emotion that had been building since the moment they arrived.
The king, however, didn't appear to mind. Without hesitation, he turned to one of the nearby knights.
"You there!" he called, gesturing for the man to step forward. "Let everyone witness a demonstration. You will face the hero bare-handed—to test the strength that, until now, has only existed in legend."
The knight, momentarily confused, obeyed. He removed his helmet and unfastened the upper pieces of his armor, revealing a broad, muscular build.
He had short red hair and appeared to be in his late twenties. Without a word, he handed his gear to another knight and approached the base of the throne. There, he paused and offered a graceful bow.
"Hero, the choice is yours," the king said, voice calm but confident. "If you accept, face this knight."
Brian hesitated at first, unsure whether he wanted to go through with it.
But curiosity tugged at him—why were they calling him a hero?
Since the summoning, ever since stepping into this hall, Brian had felt… different.
There was something inside him, a pulsing energy he couldn't define. It wasn't quite strength—more like the electric thrill of an endless sugar rush, or the adrenaline high when standing face-to-face with a worthy opponent.
The king gave a subtle nod, and with that, Brian stepped forward, stopping about a meter away from the knight.
"This demonstration is for show only, so please refrain from seriously injuring one another. Now then, are both of you ready?"
The king, clearly eager, called out to both participants before raising his hand high to signal the start of the match.
The entire hall grew quiet. Even the students leaned forward, their attention fixed, eager to see what would unfold.
Finally, the monarch dropped his hand like a referee, and the two combatants lunged forward at once.
Brian made the first move, taking three quick steps before throwing a punch aimed at the knight's torso.
The blow was fast, but the knight managed to parry it at the last second, preventing damage. He immediately retaliated with a strike of his own, but Brian was quicker.
Twisting his body, he deflected the attack with his left hand and launched another punch with his right—this time even faster, his fist snapping forward with whip-like precision.
Caught off guard by the teen's speed, the knight was forced to retreat, trying to reset his stance.
Though a seasoned member of the royal guard with years of training, monster-hunting, and battle experience, the man hadn't expected this.
He had prepared for resistance, not to be driven back so swiftly by someone so young.
Brian, growing more confident by the second, kept up the pressure.
He didn't fully understand how—but his body seemed to instinctively know how to fight.
Each movement flowed with surprising precision, his reflexes adapting to the knight's rhythm.
He didn't tire. His punches remained sharp and persistent, probing for weak spots.
Strangely, the energy inside him only grew stronger the longer he fought. It was like bliss—an addictive rush that begged for more. His mind craved it, and his body responded, adding more fluid motions as the fight intensified.
When the knight raised his arms to guard against another punch, Brian suddenly stepped back and prepared a kick.
He hadn't expected his leg to rise so easily, so high. But before he could question it, his body moved.
With surprising grace, he spun and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick that sent murmurs and shouts through the hall.
Cheers erupted from the watching students, many of them now caught up in the excitement.
The knight, now clearly struggling, shifted into a defensive stance—his only hope to minimize damage as the duel grew increasingly one-sided.
Watching the duel unfold, Logan could hardly believe his eyes.
Brian—who had never shown any real martial arts skill—was effortlessly overpowering a tall, strong, and well-trained knight without even breaking a sweat.
The young man kept executing increasingly elaborate kicks, likely inspired by action movies, and showed no signs of stopping.
After the knight had taken so many hits that he could barely keep his hands up, Brian leaped forward to finish the match.
"Stop! That's enough!"
The king, who had been watching in astonishment, raised both hands and shouted, recalling the earlier warning he had given to both fighters.
Brian, still airborne, snapped out of his trance just in time.
He adjusted his foot mid-motion, letting the kick veer off course just enough to miss the knight's face.
The tall soldier exhaled in relief—had the blow landed, it might have knocked him out cold.
With what little strength he had left, he remained standing, bowed once to Brian, and again to the monarch, before quietly retreating to rejoin the other knights.
Brian, clearly proud of the outcome, raised a hand in triumph and turned to face the king, giving a confident nod.
"Oh... so this is a hero's strength," the king murmured, eyes thoughtful.
"Perhaps it will be possible, then. Now tell me—what is it you desire in return? You do understand you can't expect us to do all this for free, right?"
The king smiled at the boy's boldness, his eyes gleaming with interest as Brian looked up at him with a self-assured grin.
"Of course," the monarch replied. "We will do everything in our power to support you. Not only this kingdom—but all who wish to see peace return to the continent—will stand behind you."
Our heroes will receive all that you ask for, including land and wealth." The king, addressing the boy who displayed signs of greed, replied calmly with a smile.
The king raised his hand once more and coughed a few times before speaking, having decided that enough time had passed.
"Very well. Before you all begin the parade we've prepared in your honor, allow me to add one final detail.
Tonight, we'll be holding a grand feast. There, each of you will have the opportunity to select a patron—be it a kingdom or a powerful merchant—given the large number of heroes summoned this time.
You'll be able to receive everything you need and desire to live comfortably in our world.
Enjoy the rest of your day, and this evening, we shall gather once again."
With that, the king gestured toward the guards stationed to the left of the throne.
They opened the towering doors, and immediately, music erupted—drums, trumpets, and other instruments playing a celebratory tune that the crowd quickly began to sing along with.
The king didn't linger to hear any responses from the class. Without another word, the event continued. Just as before, the two princesses—now their guides—took the lead, directing the group toward a beautifully landscaped garden beyond a pair of grand, carved wooden doors.
As they moved out, Logan paused and looked back. The throne room was full of celebration—smiling faces, cheerful music, and joyful applause.
But instead of feeling happy, he felt a knot in his chest.
Something about it all didn't sit right.
Since arriving, he hadn't been given a single moment to process what was happening.
No time to ask questions, and no one was willing to listen.
He had simply followed the others, swept along in a current that offered no escape.
And so he walked, quietly hoping the right moment to speak—or to act—might come soon.