Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!-Chapter 160: • A Prayer for the Unholy Part Three

Arkanos led Isolde through the grand cathedral.

After a while, he glanced at her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips he spoke casually.

"You know, I’ve been wondering something."

Isolde blinked up at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "What is it, Your Majesty?"

He stopped walking and turned to her, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Why did you keep your identity a secret for so long?"

The question sent a jolt through her, and she nearly stumbled before catching herself. "I—" She looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. "How did you even find out?"

Arkanos chuckled, the sound deep and almost teasing. "I have my ways."

Isolde pouted slightly, a hint of embarrassment coloring her features. She didn’t like how effortlessly he had unraveled something she had spent years trying to keep hidden.

Arkanos watched her reaction with interest. She was different from the other nobles and priestesses who masked their emotions behind layers of composure. Isolde, despite her attempts to be reserved, was transparent in the most subtle of ways—the small fidget of her fingers, the way her gaze flickered downward for a brief moment, the slight flush dusting her cheeks.

"Well," she finally said, clasping her hands together in front of her, "I didn’t hide it for no reason."

Arkanos raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

She hesitated, glancing down as if gathering her thoughts before speaking. "When I was born, my mother received a prophecy. One that shaped my life before I ever had a say in it."

Arkanos remained silent, his eyes fixed on her.

Isolde shifted, a little flustered under his gaze. "It foretold that I would marry a legendary warrior. One who would command divine might and reshape the lands to his will. A man who could pull Excalibur from its resting place."

Arkanos’s expression didn’t change, but there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "And you left your kingdom... to find this warrior?"

She nodded. "Years passed after the prophecy was given, but no one—no matter how great—could draw the sword. My people waited and waited, and with each failure, uncertainty grew."

Her fingers toyed with the fabric of her sleeve as she continued. "Without a ruler, my nation stood at a crossroads. I knew if I remained, my siblings would continue to argue over who should take the throne in my absence. I couldn’t let my homeland crumble while we waited for a man who might never appear."

Her voice softened. "So I left. If fate wouldn’t bring him to me, then I would find him myself."

Arkanos tilted his head slightly. "And yet, your departure only gave them more reason to fight."

A shadow of guilt flickered across Isolde’s face, and she nodded. "I thought I was doing the right thing. But now... now they are trying to claim the throne for themselves. My absence created the very chaos I had hoped to prevent."

She lowered her gaze. "Maybe I was naive to think I could outrun my destiny."

Arkanos chuckled. "Running from fate never works. It has a way of catching up, no matter where you hide."

Isolde fidgeted slightly, then hesitantly looked up at him. "You... you speak as if you understand fate well, Your Majesty."

He smirked. "Let’s just say I have a habit of bending it to my will."

For a brief moment, Isolde forgot herself—forgot that he was the emperor, forgot the weight of duty that hung over her shoulders. She found herself staring at him, her heart pounding just a little too fast.

Could it be...?

She quickly averted her gaze, cheeks warm. No, it couldn’t be. The prophecy had spoken of a warrior with divine might, one who would reshape the lands.

And yet, standing before her was a man who commanded not just an empire, but the very will of those around him. A man whose words carried the weight of inevitability.

She shook off the thought, flustered.

Arkanos, however, had already noticed her reaction. His smirk deepened, but he said nothing.

"Well," he finally said, turning away, "I suppose that just leaves one question."

Isolde swallowed, forcing herself to breathe normally. "And what is that?"

His gaze flicked back to her, sharp and knowing.

"Do you still intend to search for this warrior, or has fate already brought you where you need to be?"

Isolde’s breath caught.

For the first time in years, she didn’t have an answer.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the weight of his words or the way he was looking at her—calm, unreadable, yet undeniably expectant.

She hesitated, fingers clenching slightly in the folds of her robes. "I..."

She really didn’t know what to say.

For so long, her journey had been defined by a single purpose: find the warrior, fulfill the prophecy, restore balance to her homeland.

It was supposed to be simple. Yet, standing before Arkanos, she suddenly found herself questioning if she had come to tye end of that journey.

Had she truly come all this way just to continue searching?

Or had fate led her here for a reason?

She dared to look up at him again, searching his face for any sign of amusement, any trace that he was merely toying with her. But his expression, though touched with a smirk, held something deeper—something unsettling.

"Your Majesty..." she finally said, voice softer than she intended.

"Are you suggesting that you—"

Arkanos chuckled, cutting her off before she could finish.

"Now, now. I never claimed anything, did I?"

He stepped forward, and though he didn’t touch her, the sheer presence of him was enough to make her feel cornered.

"But," he continued, voice dropping just slightly, "it is interesting, isn’t it? That after all these years of searching, after wandering so far from home, you would find yourself standing here... before me? A man favoured by the gods?"

Isolde swallowed, the warmth in her cheeks deepening. "That... that would be a coincidence."

"Perhaps," he mused, eyes gleaming. "Or perhaps the gods have a sense of humor."

Isolde didn’t know what to say to that.

The idea was absurd—wasn’t it?

Arkanos was an emperor, not a wandering warrior. He held no sword that determined destiny. And yet...

Hadn’t he already reshaped the lands with his will? Hadn’t he already commanded divine might in ways no man before him had?

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. No. That couldn’t be right. The prophecy was clear—the warrior would wield Excalibur. That sword remained untouched, waiting for the one worthy enough to claim it.

Arkanos was powerful, yes, but he was not that man.

...Was he?

Sensing her turmoil, Arkanos smirked. "Tell me, Isolde. If I were to pull that sword from its resting place... would you accept it?"

Her breath hitched.

She hadn’t even realized he had moved closer until she felt the warmth of his presence against her.

"Or," he continued, watching her intently, "would you still convince yourself that your fate lies elsewhere?"

Isolde’s fingers trembled slightly. She felt as though she was teetering on the edge of something vast and unknown.

"I..."

She didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.

Arkanos gave a soft hum of amusement. "Well, I suppose time will tell."

Then, as if the conversation had never happened, he turned away, hands folded behind his back. "Come. We shouldn’t keep the Priests and Priestess waiting."

Isolde stood frozen for a moment before quickly gathering herself, hurrying to follow after him.

And yet, even as they walked, even as the grand halls of the cathedral stretched before them, one thought remained lodged in her mind.

’If he truly is the one... what will I do? No... It’s my responsibility to find out’

"Wait."

Arkanos paused mid-step as Isolde’s voice rang out.

He turned to find her standing her ground, her hands clenched as if steadying herself for what she was about to do. There was no hesitation in her gaze this time—only determination.

She reached into the folds of her robes and pulled out a ring. The metal gleamed under the cathedral’s light, its surface etched with intricate engravings that pulsed faintly with a hidden power.

Arkanos narrowed his eyes, intrigued. "And what do we have here?"

Isolde exhaled, holding the ring up for him to see. "This belonged to my father," she said, her voice steady but carrying the weight of years past. "It was passed down through the generations—worn only by those deemed worthy to rule my homeland."

She looked at him, something unreadable flickering behind her emerald eyes. "If you are truly the man from the prophecy—if you are the one destined to wield Excalibur—then this ring will recognize you."

Arkanos arched a brow, his expression unreadable. "And if it does not?"

"Then fate has played a cruel trick," she admitted, fingers tightening around the ring. "And I will know that my journey isn’t over."