I PICKED UP A CHILD IN A DUMPSTER

Chapter 153: The sunset they felt after a long time.

They reached it.

The throne room doors stood open.

Inside, the vast chamber stretched wide beneath a high vaulted ceiling, the grandeur of it impossible to ignore even now. At the far end stood four thrones upon a raised platform— ornate, carved, meant to symbolize stability and power.

But something was wrong.

Only three were occupied.

Two young princesses sat side by side, their composure shattered, hands clenched tightly in their laps as they tried— and failed— to remain still. Beside them, a young prince... no older than eleven— sat rigid, shoulders trembling despite the effort to hold himself together, his gaze fixed forward like moving might make everything worse.

The fourth throne—

Empty.

The man’s eyes lingered on it for half a second.

Then—

A door at the side of the chamber burst open.

All heads turned.

The King stepped through.

Not escorted.

Not announced.

Just... there.

His expression was carved from something harder than fear, though the strain beneath it was impossible to miss. His cloak hung slightly askew, his breathing heavier than it should have been, and yet his presence alone shifted the room, pulling everything into a sharper, heavier focus.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Another distant explosion rolled through the palace.

And the illusion of safety— thin as it had been— shattered completely.

The throne room had barely settled into its tense silence when—

Step.

Step.

Step.

The sound echoed from beyond the open doors, distant at first, then growing louder as multiple footsteps approached through the corridor outside. Metal boots against polished stone. Uneven in rhythm. Some quick. Some hesitant. Some dragging slightly behind the others.

Then Team Three finally arrived.

One after another, they entered the throne room, slowing almost immediately as the atmosphere hit them properly.

The earlier confidence some of them carried in the arena had long since faded somewhere between the explosions, the shaking castle walls, and the screams echoing from beyond the palace.

Now, standing inside the massive chamber beneath towering ceilings and flickering torchlight, they looked far less certain.

Some fidgeted nervously, hands tightening against newly formed armor they still weren’t used to wearing. Others glanced around constantly, shoulders stiff every time another distant boom rolled through the castle. A few stayed close together instinctively, whispering under their breath as if speaking too loudly might somehow make the situation worse.

The man who entered first looked toward the others, confusion written plainly across his face now.

"I thought..." he started slowly, still trying to process everything around them, "I thought our scenario was supposed to be the easiest."

Another explosion rumbled somewhere below the castle.

Dust drifted faintly from above.

His expression tightened.

"Did the bunny announcer lie to us?"

No one answered.

Mostly because nobody actually wanted the answer.

Then—

Clang!

The sharp metallic sound cut through the room as the older knight suddenly stepped forward and slammed the tip of his sword hard against the stone floor beneath him.

Everyone flinched toward him immediately.

The old knight’s posture remained perfectly rigid despite the chaos outside, one hand resting firmly atop the sword’s pommel while his gaze swept across Team Three with the weight of someone far too used to crisis.

"Enough standing idle," he said firmly, voice carrying through the chamber without needing to shout. "Every moment squandered is another gifted to the enemy."

He pulled the sword free from the stone with a rough scrape before turning sharply toward the far side of the throne room.

"Come with me," he continued, cloak shifting behind him as he began walking. "We have not the luxury of delay."

And with that—

He simply moved.

No dramatic speech.

No reassurance.

Just expectation.

For a moment, Team Three looked at each other uncertainly, hesitation lingering between them like a final chance to refuse what was happening.

Then someone muttered quietly from the back,

"This is probably like Team One’s situation..."

Another swallowed hard before nodding slightly.

"The guide."

Nobody argued.

Because honestly?

That explanation felt safer than the alternative.

So eventually, slowly, the group began following after the old knight through the castle halls.

The deeper they went, the more the palace revealed its condition. Servants rushed through corridors carrying supplies and bandages, some crying openly while others forced themselves to keep moving. Knights passed by at hurried pace, armor stained blackened with ash and blood, their faces exhausted beneath helmets dented from battle.

And always—

The sounds below continued.

Cannons booming somewhere in the distance.

Steel clashing against steel.

The low roar of battle constantly vibrating faintly beneath the castle floors like the kingdom itself was being shaken apart piece by piece.

The old knight led them upward without stopping.

Through spiraling staircases.

Across narrow stone bridges connecting towers.

Past windows glowing orange from the fires spreading somewhere below the city walls.

Higher.

And higher still.

Until eventually—

They emerged onto the upper battlements of the castle.

And for the first time since arriving—

Everyone stopped.

Not because they were ordered to.

Because the sight in front of them stole the movement straight from their bodies.

The sunset stretched across the horizon in waves of burning gold and deep crimson, warm light pouring across the kingdom beneath darkening skies. The wind blew gently across the high walls, softer here somehow, carrying the fading warmth of day against armor still cold from fear.

For one impossible moment—

It was beautiful.

Painfully beautiful.

Below them, the war still raged. Cannons thundered near the outer walls while distant formations of knights crashed against one another in flashes of steel and fire. Smoke curled upward from parts of the city, banners burned in the distance, and somewhere far below people were still dying.

But up here—

Bathed in sunset light—

The scene almost felt peaceful.

Even all the Team Three noticed it.

The murmuring stopped.

A few simply stared silently at the horizon.

One lowered their weapon slightly without realizing it.

Another closed their eyes briefly as the wind brushed past them.

Because despite everything happening below—

The warmth of the setting sun still reached them.

And somehow that made the whole thing hurt more.

The old knight noticed.

A quiet laugh escaped him then, soft and tired beneath the noise of war as he stepped closer to the edge of the battlements.

"I know," he said gently, his gaze remaining on the horizon. "It is a fine view."

For a brief second, the hard exhaustion in his face eased slightly, softened by the fading light washing over the battlefield.

But only for a second.

Then he straightened again.

"But we must not linger," he continued, turning back toward them as another distant explosion rolled across the kingdom below. "There is still much to be done before nightfall reaches us."