The palace was enormous, a sprawling labyrinth of broken stone and shadows. I’d been wandering its halls for twenty minutes, and the oppressive silence had grated on my nerves. When I finally encountered my first enemy, my stomach sank.
They were still made of stone, but their armor was more refined—sharp edges, polished surfaces, and an air of intimidation that screamed, don’t mess with me.
So I didn’t. I avoided them.
Here I am, the one who should crush all enemies in my path. Instead, I’m… cowering in a corner. The bitter thought twisted in my mind, but I shoved it aside. Survival was more important than pride.
As I crept further, I learned the guards weren’t just scattered aimlessly. Their positions were deliberate, forming a deliberate defense. This wasn’t just a palace—it was a fortress—and if I wanted to progress, I’d have to fight.
The royal layout offered straightforward choices. Four natural choke points divided the palace.
Royal Bedrooms Wing, Staff Wing, Throne Room Wing and Treasury Wing.
My gaze lingered on the treasury wing.
If I was going to risk a fight, there better be a payoff. The bedrooms and staff areas were unlikely to have anything useful that would change the fate of the battle with Irwen, and the throne room was probably a death trap with a boss. That left the treasury.
But first, recon.
Peeking cautiously around the corner of a long hall, I spotted them: two guards flanking the entrance to the treasury and—of course—a captain standing between them.
<table style="background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 75, 122, 0.93); margin: 10px auto; width: 90%; border: none; border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; padding: 0">
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Type: 3-rare | HP: 230/230</td>
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Type: 3-rare | HP: 300/300</td>
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I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on my whip and shield. The Captain’s bulk was undeniable, its armor enchanted with runes that seemed to reflect light. Even the regular guards looked tougher than the ones outside.
Great. Just great.
There was always Plan F: turn around and f like flee.
But running wasn’t an option—not this time. I came here for things only the treasury could offer. Sure, the treasury was a pleasant bonus, but there was the ring I needed, and it was probably locked inside with Captain Granite and his merry band of stone brutes.
Hunkering down behind a cracked pillar, I studied the hallway again. The guards were positioned perfectly, every angle covered, and the Captain was glancing around every so often.
Charging in?
Suicidal.
Sneaking past?
Impossible.
Think, Charlie, think. I tapped my shield bracer with my fingers, my mind racing. These weren’t gods—they were stone puppets, programmed by magic in a game. And all programs?
They had exploits.
The gears in my head clicked into place. Programs follow rules. Battle formations? Also rules. Rules had weaknesses. My gaze darted to the edge of the hallway, where their patrol zone probably ended. A slow, mischievous grin tugged at my lips.
“If this works,” I muttered to myself, “I’m going to mock Irwen that our ancestors were sloppy.”
The plan was simple. Well, not simple, exactly. It involved a few old wooden barrels I found nearby and enough rubble to make a respectable rubble-trap. Thankfully, the palace had plenty of both. The hardest part was hauling everything into place—overhead beams for leverage, spread rubble for distribution—and doing it without collapsing from sheer exhaustion.
My low stamina was really irritating me.
Once the setup was complete, I crouched behind the pillar, catching my breath. Every muscle burned, but the trap was ready. It took a while, but I calmed down, ate a snack, drank water, and now came the fun part. I turned on the camera.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the hallway. The moment I entered their line of sight, the guards’ runes flared brighter, casting a purple glow across the stone walls. The Captain’s head swiveled toward me with a mechanical precision, its unblinking gaze locking onto my presence.
“Hey, Captain!” I shouted, waving my whip over my head like an idiot. “You’re looking real strong today—did you switch to granite protein shakes?”
The Captain responded first, his runes pulsing with intensity as he charged forward, his massive frame leading the way. The two guards flanked him, their synchronized movements grinding against the floor like clockwork.
Perfect.
I turned on my heel and bolted, racing over the cold stone floor as the sound of scraping stone spread louder behind me. They were gaining on me.
Fine, that was part of the plan anyway.
My delicate heels clapped against the uneven surface as I led them toward the edge of their patrol zone, careful to stay just within their range. Glancing back, I saw their glowing eyes locked on me, their persistent pace as unnerving as their precision.
As I neared the trap, I veered sharply to the left, ducking into a side alcove. My fingers moved instinctively, tracing runes in the air as I began chanting my spell. The guards and captain barreled past me, then skidded to a halt as though hitting an invisible wall. Their runes dimmed slightly, and they turned in eerie unison to retreat.
Knew it.
“Too easy,” I muttered, stepping back into the hallway and giving them a taunting wave. Their spears raised as I unleashed my spell. “Chain Lightning!”
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This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.[Critical hit! Target lost 24HP (12x2)]
[Critical hit! Target lost 18HP (9x2)]
[Critical hit! Target lost 12HP (6x2)]
[Critical hit! Target lost 6HP (3x2)]</td>
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The blinding arc of electricity jumped from one to the other, the guards jerking as the energy coursed through their runes. As they stood momentarily paralyzed, I kicked the wooden barrel, propping up my trap.
And then?
Chaos. Rubble slammed down, scattering across the guards’ stone bodies with deafening crashes. One guard stumbled, cracks spreading similar to my lightning through its torso. The Captain, of course, barely flinched.
Figures.
The Captain lunged, his massive stone-hand grazing my arm as I twisted away.
“Oh no, you don’t!” I yelped, darting past a falling chunk of the ceiling just in time. I darted toward the treasury wing, weaving through the dust-filled air as chunks of rubble tumbled around me. The door stood out ahead, an iron-bound relic of the past that was my ticket to survival. I reached it, my heart on fire again.
And froze.
The door was locked.
“You have to be kidding me!” I shouted, frustration trickling over. Without thinking, I started casting. “Ice Dance!”
Frost spread from my feet, creeping up the door and across its wooden surface. I raised my whip, ready to deliver the blow that would shatter it.
I struck the door once—no budge. Twice—still nothing. On the third hit, with frustration boiling over, the ice-covered hinges finally gave in, and the door crashed open with an echo that made me wince.
Thank Ice-blood-god they’re only puppets.
No time to celebrate. I bolted inside, quickly dragging the frozen door upright again. Luckily, there was a bench conveniently positioned next to the doorway, so I shoved it into place as a makeshift barricade. That’ll slow them down for a few minutes—if they follow inside at all.
But as I turned to take in my surroundings, my heart sank. What I thought was the treasury wing was… another hallway.
Of course it is, Charlie. It was only a chokepoint, you dumbass.
I stopped the recording and considered deleting the clip.
We’ll see.
Muttering curses under my breath, I pressed on, ignoring any side doors. The minutes dragged by as I walked, each step feeling heavier than the last. Dust floated in the dim light, disturbed only by my movement.
After a while, I came to a new set of doors. These were grander, more ornate, with intricate carvings of vines and mythical beasts—killed all of them, by the way, even the spragons—zigzagging across their surface. They gleamed faintly, despite the layers of dust and time.
With a weary sigh, I prepared for another door-fight. My whip was already in hand when I hesitated, deciding to try the handle first.
It turned easily.
“Oh,” I blinked, caught off guard. “Let’s… go then.”
Pushing the doors open, I stepped inside.
The room before me was massive, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadow. What light there was came from thin beams spilling through cracks in the high walls, illuminating this... storage room?
Well, treasure rooms storage things, I guess.
Rows of towering shelves stretched into the dim expanse, some leaning precariously, others splintered and broken by the invading army. Cobwebs draped every corner, their silken threads glittering faintly in the sparse light.
Looks… pillaged.
Rusting suits of armor leaned precariously against the walls. Looted crates lay overturned, their tarnished metal bands curling like dead leaves. A cracked vase stood atop a pedestal, its painted figures faded but hinting at being very expensive one day.
The air smelled of decay and time, dry and heavy, with a faint metallic tang.
Pieces of parchment and old scrolls littered the floor, their edges brittle and crumbling under my heels as I walked forward. “Well,” I muttered, gripping my whip tighter as I stepped forward. “This better be worth it.”
The main treasure room was almost barren, its former glory reduced to a pitiful shadow of itself. I scooped up a measly two thousand gold into my inventory—hardly the treasure hoard one would expect from a place like this.
Pathetic.
With a sigh, I turned my attention to the royal section.
At the center of the room stood what used to be a grand pedestal, now reduced to little more than crumbled rubble. It was clear this had once protected the crown jewels—the most precious treasure of any kingdom.
Of course, they were gone.
Flanking the ruined pedestal were a series of shelves, once protected by glass and powerful enchantments. Now, both the glass and the spells were long shattered, their remnants scattered like glittering shards across the floor.
I moved toward the shelves, the crunch of broken glass under my heels echoing faintly in the cavernous space. At the far end, I noticed an untouched section, shielded by a layer of soot and scorched marks that surrounded it.
Inside were clothes—royal garments, neatly arranged. They looked expensive yet strangely plain, each outfit in its own compartment. One closet for every member of the royal family, their distinct styles clear even in the faded embroidery and dulled fabrics.
Curiosity tugged at me as I reached the section marked for the princess. The glass covering the compartment was still intact. I reached out hesitantly and brushed my fingertips against it.
The moment I made contact, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the glass, and the scene within shifted before my eyes.
Oh.
“Wish magic,” I murmured, a grin slowly spreading across my face. My fingers hovered over the glass, hesitant. Locked behind the fractured remnants of enchantment, shimmering like it had been waiting just for me, it changed—for me.
I was speechless. Me. Speechless. That was saying something. I’d never experienced ‘wish magic’ before, and now I finally understood why people got all teary-eyed about it.
This… this was how it felt.
It changed for you. By you.
Ice-blue silk was clinging to the mannequin in the dim torchlight, crafted to capture every gaze.
The bodice curved with impossible grace—delicate, embroidered, dancing just on the line of scandalous. Silver threads swirled across the fabric like frost creeping across a windowpane on a cold evening.
The skirt flared out in sharp, layered ruffles, short enough to move but still elegant, as if the designer had known my need to sprint into battle without sacrificing style.
Wish magic made me the designer.
The cape cascaded like liquid snow, wide and weightless, its edges adorned with frost-like silver embroidery that glinted in the faint light. Dramatic sleeves flared out, long and wing-like, dripping with impractical beauty.
Over-the-top? Absolutely. But that was precisely the point.
In this set, I wasn’t just anyone. I wasn’t just a player. I was the princess.
The details called to me, pulling at memories of Katherine: thigh-high stockings in a dark contrast to the icy brilliance, their edges adorned with tiny diamond-shaped silver patterns just above the knees.
And the heels. Once something I’d hate. Now?
Sharp, impractical, and unapologetically perfect.
This wasn’t clothing meant to blend in. This was a statement. An identity. A promise.
This was a declaration.
Princess. Your ruler.
My pulse quickened, breath catching as desire crystallized into absolute certainty.
I want it.
I need it.
I’m taking it.
“Damn wish magic!” I muttered, shaking my head as if to clear the storm of emotions swirling inside. But the pull was too strong. Before I could second-guess myself, my fingers brushed the glass.
It vanished.
I lunged forward, grabbing the set before it could also vanish.
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[Gossamer Ruffle Skirt]
[Embroidered Frostcape]
[Glacial Tread Heels]
[Diamondweave Stockings]</td>
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The names floated before me, glowing faintly as I slipped the clothes on.
And… nothing. Just me, standing there, feeling a little overdressed for a treasure room.
“Of course,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Now I need my stupid mage to identify it…”
I turned back toward the closet, frustration stirring, when something caught my eye. Tucked just behind the now-empty mannequin, there was something else. Small. Glinting faintly in the dim light.
A ring.
Not just any ring—the ring?
Reaching for it, my fingers trembled slightly as I picked it up and identified it. My breath hitched, and I froze on the spot as the glowing description scrolled before my eyes:
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<td style="text-align: center; margin: 3px; padding: 5px; color: rgba(218, 213, 206, 1) !important; border: 1px solid rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25) !important; background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1)">[Eternal Engagement Ring]
Quality: 7-legendary
Effect: Three times a day, allows the wearer to be wherever their heart desires</td>
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Three times a day? This thing wasn’t just OP—it was ridiculous. Cheat code ridiculous. Ban ridiculous. But… nothing came without a price. Not in Rimelion.
“And… Wasn’t this ring only a marvel, and teleport once a quarter?” I whispered, the words barely audible.
Doesn’t matter. Without hesitation, I yanked the ring and slid it onto my finger.
The moment I did, a deep, resonant voice echoed from behind me, startling me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, princess,” a deep voice resonated, its calmness laced with quiet authority. “The realm trembles under the strain of a powerful spell. Dimensions fracture, threads unravel.”
The voice fell silent, leaving me blinking in the dim light, but there was nobody in sight. My pulse quickened, the weight of the words settling.
Then it continued, unhurried yet pointed. “Only those with the soul of a true princess may wield it. Pretenders… shall pay the price.”
Wait.
I froze, my gaze snapping at the faint glow of the ring on my finger.
“Oh.”