Reincarnated As Young King of Meteor City(Meruem-HxH)

As they continued their journey towards the palace, a sight surprised them further. Here and there, among the crowd, they saw the familiar aura of Nen on ordinary folks. These people were not warriors, their bodies lacked the hardened look, their gaze did not carry the sharpness of a soldier, but they indeed held the weak yet undeniable glow of Nen.

A group of old men was arguing near a market stall, their Nen flaring with every heated word. A mother, carrying a baby, her aura cocooning her child protectively. A group of youngsters playing, their laughter carrying a palpable resonance of Nen. The power, once exclusive to the warriors, was now a common sight among the everyday people of the Meteor Kingdom.

This transformation, this dissemination of power, had taken root during their journey. The realization that the city, that Haruto's vision, had sparked such a change brought an unfamiliar feeling of pride in them.

As the palace came into view, it stood as a testament to the tremendous transformation the city had undergone. The once neglected building was now a symbol of power and determination, of their King’s ambitions coming to fruition.

They knew the world still refused to recognize the legitimacy of the Meteor Kingdom, and their boy King. But they also knew the will of their King was indomitable. Haruto might have been a teenager, but his vision was grander than that of any aged ruler they'd encountered on their journey. His ambition didn't reflect in grand speeches, but in the transformation of a once-rubbish city into a flourishing kingdom.

In every interaction, they felt his influence. His vision had seeped into their own thoughts and words. Their actions reflected his unyielding determination. The collective confidence they bore was a reflection of Haruto's own. Even Feitan, with his notorious temperament, carried Haruto's instructions with a sense of respect. Not a spoken deference, but a respect that echoed in his every action.

As they tread the cobblestone path, their footfalls resounding with authority, they realized that they were no longer merely representatives of their King. They were a part of the Kingdom, part of Haruto's dream.

Their roles had changed. They were not just envoys, they were soldiers in a war of perception. A war against those who would belittle Haruto's vision, against those who would dismiss Meteor Kingdom as a mere child's fantasy.

Each step they took within the city walls was a testament to their transformation. Each interaction, each encounter with Nen wielded by ordinary folk, was a confirmation of their purpose.

They were home, and home had changed. Not just in its physical landscape but in its essence, in its heartbeat. And as much as they had been a part of shaping this change, they were also shaped by it. The city had evolved, and so had they.

Within the heart of the Meteor Palace sat an audience room that held an air of regal magnificence, a testament to the power and ambition of its king. Dominating the space was a grand throne, unlike any found in typical royal courts. The intricate carving of meteors raining down from the skies, enveloped in roaring flames, graced its backrest, reflecting the strength and audacity of the Kingdom's name. Its framework, wrought from the finest ebony, emitted an aura of formidable authority, while the plush velvet upholstery of deepest black gave it an opulent elegance. The throne's aura was intimidating and yet magnetic, just like the boy who sat upon it.

The trio knew Haruto would have preferred something simpler, less ostentatious. The grandeur of the throne bore the unmistakable touch of Canary, the most loyal of them all. Her unwavering devotion to Haruto was etched into the throne's very craftsmanship, as though she intended to carve her belief in him into every heart that would lay eyes upon it.

Opposite the glorious throne was a crescent table of polished mahogany, the designated place for Haruto's most trusted allies. Each chair around the table was identical, signifying that they were all equals in the eyes of their King. But they also knew, without any spoken word, where each of them belonged.

Haruto, even as he sat upon the throne, bore an expression of abject boredom, a stark contrast to the grandiosity of his surroundings. At the crescent table, his loyal followers were assembled.

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Within the heart of the Meteor Palace sat an audience room that held an air of regal magnificence, a testament to the power and ambition of its king. Dominating the space was a grand throne, unlike any found in typical royal courts. The intricate carving of meteors raining down from the skies, enveloped in roaring flames, graced its backrest, reflecting the strength and audacity of the Kingdom's name. Its framework, wrought from the finest ebony, emitted an aura of formidable authority, while the plush velvet upholstery of deepest black gave it an opulent elegance. The throne's aura was intimidating and yet magnetic, just like the boy who sat upon it.

The trio knew Haruto would have preferred something simpler, less ostentatious. The grandeur of the throne bore the unmistakable touch of Canary, the most loyal of them all. Her unwavering devotion to Haruto was etched into the throne's very craftsmanship, as though she intended to carve her belief in him into every heart that would lay eyes upon it.

Opposite the glorious throne was a crescent table of polished mahogany, the designated place for Haruto's most trusted allies. Each chair around the table was identical, signifying that they were all equals in the eyes of their King. But they also knew, without any spoken word, where each of them belonged.

Haruto, even as he sat upon the throne, bore an expression of abject boredom, a stark contrast to the grandiosity of his surroundings. At the crescent table, his loyal followers were assembled.

At the center of the crescent table, Feitan's lean figure leaned back in his chair, his posture so relaxed it was almost a slouch. His eyes, however, were sharp, constantly shifting, never missing a detail. It was he who had found Haruto, a lonely child in the midst of chaos. Their bond ran deep, like brothers, but it was unspoken, an understanding etched into their bones.

Feitan's left side was empty, a space unoccupied that would have been Phinx's. Phinx, an intimidating presence, a brute force in their ranks, absent, yet his essence lingered. The silent understanding between the members was enough to ensure the seat was never filled by anyone else in his absence.

On Feitan's right, Canary sat, her gaze riveted on the bored boy on the throne. Her eyes were alight with a fierce loyalty, an unwavering faith that reflected her dedication to Haruto. Her loyalty was so intense that it seemed to permeate the air around her, etched into her every movement.

Adjacent to the empty seat of Phinx sat Koshiro, their Nen Master, and the newly appointed advisor to the king. His age did nothing to soften the potent aura he exuded, his vast wisdom resonating in every word he spoke, in every decision he guided. He was the voice of wisdom among them, the calming wave in their storm of ambition.

Canary’s right held Nobunaga, a figure of quiet strength. Next to him, an empty chair marked for Uvogin, whose absence did not lessen his presence within the group. The aura of these two later arrivals was no less significant, their differing paths having led them all to the same destination - Haruto's council.

Among the outer circle, there were Pakunoda, Machi, Shalnark, and Kurtopi, seated with an empty seat for Franklin. Their arrival had been more recent, but they had woven themselves into the intricate tapestry of the council with ease.

Then, at the very edge of the crescent, there sat Jahleel, the patriarch of the Kurta Clan, his posture conveying a quiet dignity. His inclusion on the council was a nod to his willingness to accept Haruto's rule, a sign of respect reciprocated with allegiance.

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