Lord Fenric’s Perspective

  Lord Fenric had learned one thing since arriving in this world—power meant survival, and hesitation meant death.

  Back on Earth, he had been nobody. A corporate drone grinding through an uninspiring nine-to-five existence, barely scraping by on cheap takeout and caffeine. But here, in the Boundless Continent, he had been given something more.

  The moment he had awoken, his castle had stood tall atop a craggy mountain, surrounded by vast skies and endless possibilities. The Aerie of the Sky King, as the system had called it, had granted him Griffins as his arms unit—powerful, majestic creatures, unrivaled in speed and aerial dominance.

  And he had thrived.

  His forces had swept across the land, claiming resources and crushing weaker lords below. While others struggled in forests and plains, he had ruled the skies. He had thought himself untouchable.

  Until now.

  ---

  Fenric stared down at the unnatural land below from atop his personal mount, a massive silver-feathered Storm Griffin named Razorwind. His scouting party—ten other griffin riders, each elite warriors among his forces—circled high above, their keen eyes scanning the landscape below.

  They had not been looking for anything in particular. The clouds had simply parted, revealing what should not have existed—a lush, thriving grove, its lands pulsing with magic and shrouded in protective enchantments.

  “What do you think, Lord Fenric?” one of his scouts called out, guiding his griffin closer. “A hidden ruin? A vault of relics?”

  Fenric narrowed his eyes. His gut told him this was something else. The Continent didn’t simply hide lands like this unless there was a reason. But reason or not, opportunity was opportunity.

  “Could be a lord’s territory,” another rider said. “But if they’re hiding it, that means they don’t want a fight.”

  Fenric smirked. “Which means they’re weak.”

  It was his biggest mistake.

  ---

  They descended fast.

  The moment his griffin’s claws touched the treetops, the land itself reacted.

  The air shifted, an invisible force pressing down upon them. Their wings faltered—not physically, but as if time itself had slowed, stealing their momentum.

  Then the attack began.

  A storm of illusions erupted around them. Not natural mist, but twisting, living shadows that flickered in and out of reality. His riders panicked, their griffins shrieking in confusion as phantom beasts attacked from every side.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Fenric barely had time to register what was happening before the real threats arrived.

  The first wave came from the ground—massive Tide Guardians rose from the rivers, their watery forms striking like spears. Frost Wolves launched from the underbrush, their ice-coated fangs tearing into griffin wings.

  The second wave came from the air—Storm Elementals burst from the clouds, crackling with lightning, striking down riders before they could even react.

  “Pull back!” Fenric roared, his grip tightening on Razorwind’s reins. They had to retreat.

  But the world did not listen.

  Because Eternity had arrived.

  ---

  The air itself froze.

  Not in temperature, but in motion.

  Fenric gasped as his entire body locked in place. His vision swam, the world flickering between what was happening, what had already happened, and what was about to happen.

  A figure stepped onto the battlefield, unbothered by the frozen chaos. His form was not bound by flesh and bone but by time itself—an ever-shifting silhouette of stars and ancient power.

  The Fae Lord of Eternity.

  He lifted a hand.

  The battle simply ended.

  Time resumed for everyone but Fenric. His griffin collapsed beneath him, its wings folding mid-flight as though it had already crashed minutes ago.

  His riders fell from the sky, their movements slowed into inevitable failure.

  The world had already decided. They had lost before they had even begun.

  ---

  When Fenric could move again, he found himself kneeling on the ground, his arms restrained by unseen forces.

  His riders were gone. Some had fled. Others hadn’t been given the chance.

  And in front of him stood the woman who had doomed him.

  Selene.

  She sat on a raised throne at the heart of the grand castle, its walls shimmering with unnatural beauty—part crystal, part nature, part something beyond human comprehension.

  Her gaze was calm, unreadable.

  She did not look at him like an enemy.

  She looked at him like a problem to be solved.

  ---

  Silence stretched between them before she finally spoke.

  “You did not seek us,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You stumbled upon something you did not understand.”

  Fenric clenched his jaw. “What... are you?”

  Her expression didn’t change. “Your new Queen.”

  Rage surged through him. “I kneel to no one.”

  Eternity, who stood at her side, did not speak—but his presence alone made it clear. You already have.

  Selene sighed softly, as though this was all very predictable. “You do not have a choice.”

  Fenric wanted to spit back a retort, but his instincts screamed at him to stay silent.

  She gestured toward his trembling griffin, the only one that hadn’t been killed or fled. “Your forces are gone. Your power is meaningless here. You are nothing but another displaced king, clinging to illusions of control.”

  His hands curled into fists.

  “And yet,” she continued, “I am not wasteful. If you swear fealty, you may serve.”

  Fenric exhaled sharply. “You think I’d betray my own freedom?”

  Selene’s lips curved into something dangerous. “Freedom? What was it that you did before you came here?”

  The words hit harder than any attack.

  She knew.

  Fenric wasn’t a king. Not really. He had been a cog in the machine. A corporate nobody pretending to be important. The moment she had looked at him, she had seen through him completely.

  His pride refused to let him submit.

  But his fear kept him silent.

  Selene leaned forward slightly. “You may believe you still have power, Fenric. That you can resist, bargain, manipulate. But power only exists in the ability to act. And I have taken that from you.”

  His throat was dry.

  She was right.

  “I…” He hesitated, hating himself for it. “I will serve.”

  Selene exhaled softly, as if she had already known the answer.

  “Good.”

  She stood, her presence undeniable.

  “Then rise, Lord Fenric.”

  ---

  As he stood, his gut churned with a feeling he hadn’t felt since coming to this world.

  It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even fear.

  It was the realization that he had been playing at power.

  And now, he had met someone who held it absolutely.

  He had wanted to find an opportunity.

  Instead, he had found Selene.

  And now, he belonged to her.