"Is this the place, Bishop?"
The elderly man behind him—white robes, golden trim, pendant heavy enough to cause back pain—nodded serenely. "Yes, your Majesty. This is the Everlasting Adventure Guild."
The emperor stepped forward, cautious but curious.
Their polished boots clicked softly across rune-inscribed floors. But the moment they passed the threshold, they froze.
It felt like reality had blinked.
Otherworldly furniture filled the space. Floating lanterns drifted lazily along thick beams, casting soft, shifting color across glowing tables made of root and glass. Off to the right, a hobgoblin in a frilly apron hummed as he wiped down a table.
In the corner, a red-haired woman lounged with her legs up, puffing a pipe that glowed purple with each breath. Beside her, a slime bounced endlessly, ranting about magical physics and gourmet food pairings.
At the center of the room, a knot of halflings and dwarves tinkered with a steaming, metal box—bottles glowing faintly inside like bottled stars.
The royal guards tensed instantly. Hands on hilts. Eyes sharp.
The whole room felt the shift.
Then, from the back, a dark-robed man stood up.
His voice was calm. Deadpan. Cold.
"Charles Jn. Leave your weapons in the box by the door."
He pointed lazily.
"This establishment doesn't allow fighting. So calm down."
Silence.
Then panic—spreading like smoke through the guards.
That voice. That name.
Lao.
The necromancer. The undying. The unkillable. A name whispered in dread. A name banned from court records.
The bishop stepped forward fast. "Please, your majesty. Just comply. There are powers here even you must respect."
The emperor hesitated. Then, slowly, he removed his jeweled sword and placed it in the box.
The guards followed.
The moment passed.
Then—
Bang! A door near the bar flew open.
"Foods are ready! Everyone bring your plate!"
Whoosh!
Half the tavern vanished in a blink, reappearing in a perfect line by the food counter.
A voice echoed from the middle, "Hey! I stepped in 5ms earlier! So come down from my head!"
The red-haired girl sighed, got up, and walked over. No words. Just grabbed Lao by the collar, yanked him out of line, and tossed him like a sack of regret.
"From the head, not ahead," she muttered and took his place.
The bishop leaned in. "Please, your highness… it's best if you line up too."
An Emperor. In a food line. With monsters. With peasants.
Charles twitched. But after a glance at the room—at the literal gods having casual dinner—he bit down his pride.
And stepped into line.
The smell hit next. Spices from the east. Charred meat. Something sweet.
Everyone had plates.
Everyone was talking like this was just another Tuesday.
Eventually, Charles and his guards reached the front.
Behind the counter stood a man. Mid-thirties. Hair dark as ink. Eyes like wells—black, bottomless, without a flicker of glow.
He rolled his sleeves up and calmly scooped steaming biriyani rice, then spicy curry, onto a plate.
Charles stared. The man looked human… but different.
And the hair. He'd never seen black hair before.
The man looked up and grinned. "Ohh, you're new. Charles, right? I think I met your Father before. A very nice man."
He scooped an extra portion.
"Here you go. Extra meat for you."
The tavern froze.
"Boss! That's unfair!" someone shouted.
"His food. His rules," the redhead said, not even looking up.
"Still unfair!" a dwarf added, mouth full.
Charles took his plate. He didn't argue. He didn't understand.
He sat down.
The guards followed, plates full.
Then it happened.
The first bite.
A shift.
A spark.
Lightning in the blood. His body surged with energy. Veins glowing. Power thrumming through his bones.
And not just him. All of them.
Magic stirred. A golden barrier shimmered into place around their table, gentle and humming like a lullaby.
"Whoa whoa whoa!" the red-haired girl barked, raising one hand. The other still held her bowl. "Don't mess with the barrier! I just had my nap!"
A skeletal hand shot out from under the table, reaching for curry.
Crack!
Spoon met bone. Snap.
"You thief. Want another beating?"
A sigh from under the table. "My mistake. Wrong table," Lao muttered, sliding back into the shadows.
The barrier held.
Thirty minutes later, Charles stood.
Shaking. Buzzing. Glowing.
He felt it snap—whatever wall had blocked his growth.
He'd done it.
Legendary Realm.
The final stage of cultivation.
Achieved… by eating biriyani.
He looked up, expecting thunder. Sky crack. Divine punishment.
Nothing.
The golden barrier shimmered quietly.
The red-haired girl smirked. "That's why we keep the barrier. Keeps the divine crap out while we eat."
"You knew I'd ascend?"
"Nope." She grinned. "But I guessed. Rice was extra spicy today."
He turned.
His guards were glowing too.
Legendary. Saints. All of them.
He sat back down.
Stunned.