Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!-Chapter 161: • A Proposal?

Arkanos studied the ring in Isolde’s outstretched hand, his expression impassive.

The cathedral’s candlelight flickered against the polished metal, casting faint shadows across his face.

For a moment, he said nothing, merely watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached forward. His fingers brushed hers as he took the ring, his touch cool against her warm skin.

Isolde suppressed a sharp inhale, forcing herself to remain composed as she stepped back, clasping her hands in front of her bust.

Arkanos examined the artifact with curiosity, rolling it between his fingers. The engravings shimmered faintly, reacting to the presence of his touch. He tilted his head slightly, amusement appearing across his face.

"And if I put this on," he mused, "what exactly will happen?"

Isolde swallowed, willing her voice to remain steady. "If you are worthy, the ring will accept you as its bearer. If not... well, it will reject you."

Arkanos smirked. "Reject me? That sounds rather dramatic."

She didn’t return his amusement. "It has happened before. To men who sought the throne but were deemed unfit."

"Unfit?" He raised an eyebrow. "And what became of them?"

Isolde hesitated. "Some were simply unable to wear it. The ring would slip from their fingers, as if repelled. But others..." She glanced at him warily. "They suffered greater consequences."

Arkanos chuckled softly. "Ah. So there’s a risk involved."

She nodded. "If the ring deems you unworthy, it may inflict harm."

He twirled the ring between his fingers, considering. "Fascinating."

Isolde clenched her hands tighter. She had no idea what would happen if he tried to wear it.

Part of her expected it to reject him outright—after all, Arkanos was no wandering warrior.

He was an emperor, a ruler who bent men to his will rather than follow prophecy.

And yet... she couldn’t shake the feeling that if anyone could defy her expectations, it would be him.

Arkanos slid the ring onto his ring finger without another word.

The moment it settled onto his hand, a pulse of energy rippled through the air. The cathedral’s torches flickered wildly, the light twisting unnaturally as if caught in an unseen wind. Isolde gasped, her heart leaping to her throat.

The ring glowed—a deep, ancient light, as if responding to something buried within Arkanos himself. The blue engravings shimmered, shifting, as though awakening from centuries of dormancy and tye mana surged outward even more, casing Isode to shield her eyes.

The force was so strong it whipped the wind around him, inspecting some sheep gouges in the walls.

And then just as suddenly...

It calmed down.

And yet... he remained standing, perfectly still, completely unharmed.

Isolde’s breath hitched.

It hadn’t rejected him.

It had accepted him.

Arkanos studied the glow of the ring with mild interest. He flexed his fingers, watching the way the metal pulsed against his skin. Then, with a smirk, he turned his gaze back to her.

"Well," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "It seems fate does have a sense of humor."

Isolde could only stare, struggling to process what she had just witnessed.

This wasn’t possible.

Only one worthy to wield Excalibur should have been able to wear the ring.

And yet... Arkanos stood before her, wearing it as though it had always belonged to him.

She took a step forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "This... this doesn’t make sense."

Arkanos tilted his head. "Doesn’t it?"

She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself. "You weren’t the one the prophecy spoke of. You weren’t meant to be—"

He interrupted her with a soft chuckle. "Isolde," he said, his voice smooth yet undeniably commanding. "Have you considered that the prophecy never dictated who I should be... but rather, who I would become?"

Her eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

He lifted his hand, letting the ring catch the cathedral’s light. "Perhaps fate isn’t as rigid as you think. Perhaps it does not wait for a man to be born worthy—but instead finds the one who will make himself worthy."

Isolde felt as if the world had tilted beneath her feet. Everything she had believed, everything she had spent years chasing, suddenly seemed uncertain.

Arkanos took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Tell me, Isolde," he murmured, his voice lower now, almost dangerous. "Will you continue to deny what stands before you?"

She swallowed, heart pounding.

Because no matter how much she wanted to deny it...

She couldn’t.

The ring had chosen him.

Which meant the choice was no longer hers.

Isolde’s face turned crimson as she dropped to one knee, her voice trembling with reverence.

"I... I pay my greetings to the Holy One," she whispered, her hands clenched in front of her. "From this day forward, I—"

Before she could finish, Arkanos chuckled softly, a knowing smirk on his lips.

"No need to bow."

Isolde hesitated, glancing up at him, but he wasn’t finished. His smirk deepened as he tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction with amusement.

"Tell me, Isolde," he mused, his tone deliberately teasing. "Are you aware that in Bloodbane customs, giving a ring to another is considered a proposal?" He let the words hang in the air before adding, "It’s also something newlyweds do. Traditionally, the man gives the ring... but I believe the gesture should still stand in this scenario, don’t you?"

Isolde’s entire body stiffened. Her blush deepened until her face rivaled the crimson banners hanging from the cathedral’s high ceiling. She averted her gaze, gripping the folds of her robes tightly.

"I... I am aware," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arkanos raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her flustered state. "Oh? Then you knew what you were doing?"

"N-no! I mean—" Isolde stammered, her thoughts racing. She had offered him the ring as a sign of divine approval, as proof that fate had chosen him. And yet, the weight of his words made her realize—she had also, unwittingly, bound herself to him.

It was the same in her homeland. A ring given in such a manner was more than a blessing; it was an oath. A vow.

And she had just made hers before the gods themselves.

Her heart pounded as she looked up at him, her lips trembling. "I... I didn’t mean—"

Arkanos chuckled again, stepping closer, towering over her. He reached down, tilting her chin up with two fingers so that their eyes met. His green gaze gleamed with mischief... and something deeper.

"But you did," he murmured.

Isolde’s breath hitched.

Because she knew.

She had, in front of the divine, willingly offered herself.

And in accepting the ring...

Arkanos had accepted her.

Her knees felt weak. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I... I suppose... I have agreed to be your wife."

The moment the words left her lips, Arkanos smiled. Not his usual smirk, but something more dangerous—more possessive.

"Good," he said softly. "Then you are mine, Isolde."

Isolde’s breath came in short, uneven gasps as she struggled to process what she had just admitted. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet Arkanos’ gaze, the heat in her cheeks refusing to fade.

"D-does that not mean..." she began hesitantly, gulping slightly, "that I am expected to bear your children?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Arkanos’ smirk widened into something unmistakably amused, but there was a glint in his green eyes that suggested something deeper—something far more dangerous.

"Ah," he mused, stepping just a fraction closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. "Ever forward, are we?"

Isolde’s fingers twitched against the fabric of her robe. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but now that it was out in the open, she couldn’t take it back.

Arkanos chuckled.

"I would have almost obliged such a tempting request," he teased, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. His fingertips brushed against a loose strand of her purple hair, trailing it between his fingers as if considering the idea. "But then..."

His tone shifted suddenly, his amusement now tinged with something more mischievous as he turned his head slightly, tilting it toward the space behind them.

Isolde blinked in confusion before following his gaze. Her breath caught as she noticed the group of priests and priestesses standing at the side, their expressions ranging from shock to barely concealed horror.

The commotion from the divine ring’s manifestation had clearly drawn their attention, and now, they stood frozen, eyes flickering between Isolde, the ring, and Arkanos himself.

Arkanos smirked, his amusement barely contained. "I doubt we can attempt such an unholy thing in a place of worship. Why don’t we... pick this up another time?"

Isolde turned scarlet.

"I—I wasn’t requesting—!" she sputtered, stepping back, only to realize she was still clutching his hand.

Arkanos merely laughed, giving her fingers the briefest squeeze before releasing them.

"Of course not," he said, clearly entertained by her flustered state. "But the thought is already there, isn’t it?"

Isolde opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out.

Because deep down, she knew he was right.