Amidst the crowd’s gasps, the spatial portal slowly expands, growing rger until it finally stabilizes. From a mere window-sized opening, it stretches into a massive gateway—five meters wide and eight meters tall.

  Two tall figures step out from the flowing water-like curtain of the portal’s surface. They’re knights, each mounted on a warhorse, cd head to toe in gleaming golden armor. The golden capes billowing behind them bear a striking cross star emblem that shines brilliantly.

  Henwell’s eyes widen, refusing to miss a single detail.

  Both of these knights hold the rank of Iron Knight, outfitted with extraordinary gear from head to toe. Even their shimmering capes are enchanted artifacts. Their steeds aren’t ordinary warhorses either—these massive mounts match Henwell’s own Night Charger in size.

  To know that: Henwell himself is a tall man, and his Night Charger is a specially bred warhorse, standing nearly a full shoulder taller than regur horses. Besides, he notices these warhorses have fangs.

  More figures emerge from the portal—over forty in total. Most wear the golden cross star of the knights, while the rest ride horses but ck the full protective armor.

  Some carry staffs, their robes embroidered with arcane symbols, clearly powerful mages.

  A few wear finely crafted leather armor, carrying massive bows and crossbows of various designs.

  Between the two groups, they escort a two-wheeled carriage. This carriage isn’t as vish as the rest. Aside from the two magnificent warhorses pulling it and the Iron Knight acting as the driver, the carriage itself looks quite ordinary.

  Once the entire group steps through, the spatial portal slowly closes behind them.

  The moment the spatial ripple fades, Henwell furrows his brow and looks toward where the portal just vanished. Before he can fully process it, everyone around him rises to their feet.

  Henwell has no choice but to stand as well—the person inside the carriage is stepping out.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Henwell catches sight of an elderly man, probably in his sixties. He wears a pristine white robe and holds a ptinum-colored staff that looks like a blend of metal and jade, with intricate veins running through it.

  As the elder steps forward, Duke Amir is the first to rise, followed by all the royal family members and representatives from various noble houses. That’s why no one remains seated.

  Five Iron Knights from the Vorry royal family escort Duke Amir down from the ptform to stand beside the white-robed elder.

  The elder gazes kindly at Amir and speaks in the continent’s common tongue: “It’s been a long time since a nation has been elevated. You seem to be a worthy leader. May the gods bless your glory and protect your kingdom. Now, speak your name and swear your oath in front of me!”

  As soon as he finishes, the elder taps his staff gently on the ground, and a radiant light envelops the two of them.

  Duke Amir kneels halfway before the elder, lowering his head respectfully.

  “I am Amir Rhine! I swear by my family’s honor and bloodline!”

  His voice isn’t loud, but it carries across the entire pza—clearly, the elder has cast some amplification spell.

  After Amir’s decration, the elder nods softly.

  “Amir Rhine, do you vow to obey the will of the gods, to protect this barren nd, and to shepherd these lost souls burdened with sin?”

  “I swear, I do!”

  “Good, my child. Do you pledge to serve my lord, the great Lord of the Holy Spirit?”

  “I swear, I do!”

  “You must use your life and everything you have to safeguard the gods’ domain. Fight for the divine, serve wholeheartedly, drive out evil, and spread the gospel!”

  “I swear, I will protect the glory and light of the gods at all costs!”

  The elder slowly pces his staff atop Amir’s head. “Amir Rhine, on behalf of the Holy Spirit Church, I hereby crown you king. Your nation shall become a kingdom, your family shall flourish without end, and your descendants shall carry on your legacy. By the way, what is the name of this nd?”

  “Your Grace, this nd is called Vorry!”

  The elder nods gently. “From this moment on, the Kingdom of Vorry shall not be attacked for ten years!”

  The royal families of the other five kingdoms bow in respect. “We shall obey the archbishop’s decree!”

  After more than a century of turmoil and the efforts of several generations, Vorry finally achieves its transformation. Countless lives sacrificed, massive resources drained, and even alienating some neighboring kingdoms—all for this moment of transformation.

  The Duchy of Vorry is history. The Kingdom of Vorry steps onto the stage.

  The white-robed elder taps his staff on the ground once more, ending the amplification spell. With a warm smile, he turns back to Amir and says, “Alright, rise! Speaking of your family, we actually share some history. Letting you guard this pce for so long—that’s something your family rightfully earned!”

  ”Luckily, the pce has developed quite well. Two hundred years have passed, and it’s grown prosperous. Come, tell me about your progress on this continent. Both the Church and the Empire are quite curious about this nd.”

  ”When I first came, some even called it a barren wastend! But now, it seems you guardians have put in a lot of effort.”

  Duke Amir personally escorts the elder up to the dais, seating him in a position even higher than the throne.

  Henwell strains to catch the conversation, eavesdropping on the exchange to glean as much information as possible. Unfortunately, Amir does most of the talking, with the elder only nodding occasionally and rarely asking questions.

  After a long while, the singing and dancing celebrations come to an end.

  Duke Amir begins distributing titles among the domestic nobility. First, he promotes a rge batch of new nobles. Then, he divides the spoils among the existing factions.

  Count Lowel is elevated to Grand Duke of the Northern Territory.

  Count Obiken becomes Grand Duke of the Western Territory.

  Count Quinns is made Grand Duke of the Southern Territory.

  With the three grand dukes from the royal faction confirmed, it’s time for the noble alliance’s turn.

  Count Marcus undoubtedly receives the title of Grand Duke of the Eastern Territory.

  Count Descartes, having suffered a crushing defeat at the Vorska defense line, misses out on a grand duke title and only gains the Marquis of Vorska. The neutral Count Reyes, however, secures a grand duke title.

  Others receive promotions to count or higher ranks, but only those elevated to count or above are mentioned in this ceremony.

  Just as everyone thinks the rewards are finished, Amir suddenly looks toward Count Jansen and smiles. “Jansen Phoenix!”

  Jansen blinks in surprise, then rises and steps forward.

  Amir grabs Jansen’s hand and, amid the crowd’s puzzled gazes, raises it high.

  “Jansen! My closest friend! My most trusted comrade! He has sacrificed so much for me, for the royal family, and for the entire nation. His contributions have been absolutely vital…”

  Henwell’s heart skips a beat, a bad feeling creeping in.

  Amir continues praising Jansen’s achievements, then decres loudly, “By the authority of the king, I hereby appoint Jansen Phoenix as Grand Duke of the Southwest!”

  The crowd falls silent, then erupts into a shocked uproar.

  Henwell frowns.

  Damn, what a move!