I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

As the carriage continued its journey through the heart of the royal capital, the majestic royal castle began to come into view.

When they reached close, the castle gates swung open, the loud creaking noise filling the air. The path before them led through an enormous garden, the sheer size capable of holding many small castles within it. Trees with rich, green leaves swayed gently in the breeze, and flowers of every imaginable color bloomed in rows.

After some time, the carriage came to a stop, and as the door swung open, Julian stepped out. His black robe, adorned with golden embroidery, flowed behind him like a living shadow.

Each step he took seemed effortless, graceful, and magnificent.

He glanced around, taking in the overwhelming sight before him. His eyes lingered on the towering stone walls of the castle, the well-maintained gardens, and the guards stationed at every entrance. This was his kingdom now.

And the royal capital, once just a place to visit, was now a part of the empire he was shaping with his own hands.

The four guardians moved in perfect sync behind Julian, forming a neat formation like an impenetrable wall. Their presence radiated authority, and the crowd around them instinctively lowered their gazes, aware of the power gathered here.

Julian’s eyes finally settled on the man kneeling before him at the foot of the grand staircase. The man’s silver armor gleamed under the morning sun, his head bowed low in respect.

This man was none other than George, the Royal Commander of the Ares Army—the very man who had once greeted Julian as nothing more than the Duke’s son when he first stepped foot in this palace years ago.

“Stand, George,” Julian commanded, his voice calm yet absolute.

As ordered, George rose to his feet, standing tall yet respectful. The years had left wrinkles on his face, but his posture remained unwavering, befitting the commander of the kingdom’s strongest army.

His eyes met Julian’s, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride rushing through him.

“You are welcome to the Royal Castle, Your Grace,” George greeted, bowing slightly.

Julian offered a faint smile, amused by the circle of life. The boy once greeted at the gate was now the Duke, and the entire capital stood still at his arrival.

“Let us proceed, Your Grace. His Majesty is awaiting your arrival,” George spoke, stepping aside to lead the way.

Julian gave a slight nod. Without wasting any moment, George, along with a few royal maids and attendants, began guiding Julian and his guardians through the grand hallways of the Royal Castle.

Each corridor they passed was adorned with golden chandeliers, banners bearing the symbol of the Ares Kingdom, and detailed paintings highlighting the kingdom’s long, bloody history.

The maids walked quietly beside them, stealing glances at Julian and the men who followed him.

Soon, they reached the towering double doors of the throne room. The royal guards pushed them open, and the grand sight within unfolded.

At the far end of the room, on a raised platform, sat the King and Queen of Ares. Their thrones were lavishly decorated, as expected of the monarch of a kingdom.

The King gave a short glance at the Queen beside him, giving her a look that clearly said, “You better not mess things up.” The Queen, graceful yet cold, kept her expression neutral, though her fingers tensed slightly over her throne.

Beneath them, on a slightly lower platform, were seated the two princesses—Aisha and Hallie. Beside Hallie stood her teenage son, Prince Ivan. The two of them gossiped among themselves, their eyes occasionally flickering toward Julian’s approaching figure with barely hidden disdain.

It was obvious neither of them wanted to be here, forced into this formality like everyone else.

The grand hall fell into silence as Julian’s footsteps echoed across the courtroom, the four guardians following behind like soldiers of the King of Hell.

As they walked forward, the four guardians flared their auras just slightly—not enough to challenge, but enough to remind everyone present who they were. Their combined presence created a wave that rippled through the grand hall, creating a terrifying display of dominance and power.

A silence fell over the hall instantly. The gathered dukes, nobles, officials, and everyone lowered their gazes, as if the very air had become too heavy to breathe. Even those who once held pride in their status now dared not meet his eyes.

Among them, the women—whether noble daughters, wives, or servants—couldn’t help themselves. Their eyes flicked up, curiosity and something deeper flashing across their faces, their hearts thumping at the force of the man now standing before them.

Julian’s smile deepened, slow and knowing, as his sharp gaze swept over the silent, stunned audience. He could see it clearly—the awe, the fear, the respect, and that faint spark of desire. He had them exactly where he wanted.

He stopped a few steps ahead of the throne and, without hesitation, lowered himself onto one knee. He bowed his head completely, his posture practiced and composed.

“Your Majesty the King, Your Majesty the Queen,” Julian greeted. “Duke of Easvil, Julian Easvil, greets you.”

The nobles behind him exchanged glances, some uneasy, some curious, while the four guardians stood still, their expressions unreadable.

The next moment, the king’s deep laugh echoed through the throne room, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Julian, my grandson—stand,” the king declared, his voice filled with surprising warmth.

The crowd collectively gasped in response, as if they had seen a ghost. Whispers broke out, everyone shocked at the sudden change of the event.

The word grandson wasn’t something thrown around lightly—it was a public acknowledgment of Julian’s royal bloodline, something that had never been openly spoken before.

The change was even more evident on the queen’s and Princess Hallie’s faces. Both tensed, their smiles fading as their jaws tightened.

Hallie glanced at her son, Ivan, with a look that screamed irritation, while the queen’s fingers nervously gripped her throne. This declaration meant one thing—the king was tying Julian even closer to the royal family, lifting him far beyond the other dukes and nobles.

Julian smirked, though he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. “It is my honor to be in your presence, Your Majesty,” he replied politely with a slight bow.