Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Roiner

I know, this was marking her was sudden but don’t regret it, I’d do it a thousand times over.

Roiner sat quietly on the edge of the mattress, his massive frame sinking the heavy bed just a fraction as he leaned closer to Aina.

She was still tangled in the soft, thick blankets, her dyed hair sprawling messily across the pillows as she pouted up at him. Roiner couldn’t help the small, fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He reached down, taking her hand, not her free hand, but the one encased tightly in a thick, white plaster cast resting carefully against her stomach. His long, calloused fingers gently trailed over the rough surface of the cast, tracing the faint lines and messy ink doodles already drawn across the plaster.

Aina looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes flickering down to his hands. ”Do you want to mark it?” she asked softly, her voice still laced with that adorable morning rasp.

Roiner looked down at her, his dark eyes softening. ”Sure. Why not?”

Aina immediately perked up, her eyes scanning the small nightstand right beside Roiner’s side of the bed. Spotting a dark ink pen resting beside a stack of old leather-bound books, she stretched her arm out, grabbing the pen and eagerly handing it over to him. She lifted her cast slightly, tapping her small finger on a clear, untouched patch of white plaster near her wrist.

”Molly did that marking over there,” Aina explained, pointing to a bold, slightly chaotic signature near her knuckles, ”and Ally did that one on the side. So you can put yours right there in that empty space.”

Roiner took the pen from her, nodding slowly. He leaned down, placing his hand gently beneath her cast to keep it steady while his other hand brought the tip of the pen down to the blank plaster. Carefully, with painstaking detail, he began drawing the delicate outline of a butterfly, its intricate wings fanning out beautifully against her wrist.

As the dark ink bled into the white cast, Roiner kept his head down, asking casually, ”So... how did you get this cast?”

Aina just lifted her small shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, letting out a soft sigh. ”Well, the princes did this, who else? Somehow I ended up doing rugby. I have a feeling it was the doing of Malric to get back at me for slapping him which he did by shoving me hard on the field causing me to let go of the ball which then went straight up into the sky and fell straight down onto my hand, crushing it.”

She stared up at the ceiling, her voice carrying a slight, bitter edge as she continued. ”I was told that it was going to take about six or nine months to heal, but the nurse said I was recovering unexpectedly fast. She said I should be fine after three months and I should be good to just have the strap from that point.”

As she spoke, Aina’s hand unconsciously tightened around Roiner’s hand, the hand holding the pen, her fingers digging hard into his skin as the painful memory flashed through her mind.

Roiner paused mid-stroke. His dark eyes flickered, a dangerous, icy stillness settling over his broad shoulders.

”That’s so...” Roiner whispered, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying rumble that made the air in the room turn instantly cold.

”Yes,” Aina gritted out, her grip on his hand remaining impossibly tight.

Beneath his calm, unbothered exterior, a dark, murderous fury flared to life deep inside Roiner’s chest. Those boys do not listen to save their lives, Roiner thought darkly, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. I told them not to touch her, it seemed that flew over their heads or they took me as a joke. I will have to teach them a lesson. A very valuable, painful lesson... because they truly do not listen.

Suppressing the dangerous aura rising beneath his skin, Roiner smoothly finished the final delicate line of the butterfly’s wing. He recapped the pen and set it back on the nightstand before leaning over to press a soft, lingering kiss against her forehead.

”I’ll be able to get you out of going to the tournament today,” Roiner murmured, his warm thumb stroking her cheek gently. ”But you might have to go tomorrow.”

Aina let out a long, dramatic sigh of pure relief, sinking back into the pillows. ”Cool. One day of rest is enough for me to learn how to walk again and shoot an arrow.”

Roiner let out a low, deep laugh, charmed by her absolute lack of enthusiasm for the grand academy games. ”You can get all the rest you want today. I’ll be right back. I have some things to handle, after being away from the academy for a month, a lot of work has piled up.”

”Cool,” Aina murmured, her eyelids already fluttering heavily with sleep as she snuggled deeper into his blankets.

The amount of times I have smiled in one morning hurts my cheeks. The goddess really knew what she was doing when she made you, I’m so happy I bonded with her. I can already feel the bond running through my veins.

Roiner rose from the side of the bed and made his way out the cabin, straightening his suit as he took in the morning air.

As he made his way through the bustling campsite, the sheer weight of his presence commanded absolute silence wherever he walked. Dozens of students from various academies lined the gravel paths, instantly halting their conversations and bowing their heads in deep, genuine respect as the Headmaster passed by, even those who weren’t Moonside students knew better than to cross him.

Roiner arrived at the grand central grounds, where hundreds of students were gathered in tight, organized groups depending on their assigned teams, with their respective professor-in-charge standing firmly in front of them. High above the crowd, resting on a grand, raised wooden dais, stood the headmasters of all ten participating academies.

Standing right at the front of the stage was Headmaster Honey of the Treasure Academy, the second-best school in the realm, constantly snapping at Moonside’s heels. Honey was a striking, formidable woman with sharp silver eyes, braided ash-blonde hair, and a commanding presence that could bring a full-grown warrior to his knees. Decades ago, she had actually been a star student at Moonside Academy before rising through the ranks to do the impossible: becoming the first female Pack Leader of the fierce Treasure territory, a rare and ruthless title held almost exclusively by male Alpha lines.

Honey stepped up to the front podium, her powerful, amplified voice ringing out over the silent, echoing field.

”Students of the Ten Academies!” Honey declared, her silver eyes sweeping sharply over the sea of young fighters. ”Welcome to the first official day of the Grand Inter-Academy Tournament. You stand here today to prove your strength, your honor, and your loyalty to your institutions. I wish you all the absolute best of luck—may the strongest among you prevail!”

The crowd erupted into a brief, roaring cheer before Honey held up her hand, turning her body slightly toward Roiner with a respectful tilt of her head.

”And now,” Honey announced, ”I invite Headmaster Roiner of Moonside Academy to explain the official rules and how this grueling competition will unfold.”

Roiner stepped forward to the edge of the raised dais, his tall, imposing shadow casting over the entire assembly. The moment he reached the wooden railing, absolute, pin-drop silence washed over the massive field. No one dared to breathe loudly in his presence.

”Listen carefully,” Roiner rumbled, his deep, resonant voice effortlessly carrying across the grounds without needing a single spell to amplify it. ”The rules of the Grand Tournament are simple, yet absolute. There will be zero tolerance for cheating, sabotage, or unauthorized weapons. Any student caught using illegal dark artifacts will be instantly disqualified and stripped of their academy standing.”

He paused, his cold, dark gaze locking onto Team Fang in the front row, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly as he took in the ragged, tired appearance of Theo, Keali, Vance and Malric.

”The competition consists of three distinct, grueling rounds,” Roiner continued, his voice echoing off the surrounding mountain cliffs. ”The first round is Hunting in Man Form. You will track, kill, and retrieve different beasts scattered throughout the surrounding forests using only your raw physical strength and human weapons. Different animals yield different point values depending on their danger ranking.”

Roiner folded his arms behind his broad back, stepping closer to the edge.

”The second round, which will take place tomorrow, is Hunting in Shifted Form, where you will unleash your true beasts to track down high-grade prey. And the final, third round will be the Blood Hunt, where teams will go directly against each other, hunting one another down across the territory to forcefully steal rival group points.”

A collective murmur of tense adrenaline rippled through the crowd of students below.

”Today,” Roiner finished flatly, his dark eyes sweeping over the eager, terrified faces below, ”you will just be hunting in shifted forms. Go to your assigned starting gates, and prepare yourselves.”