The Imperial Court of Sityl had not been this lively in decades.
Unfortunately, it wasn't due to prosperity, victory, or diplomacy.
It was because of a glowing brick.
The grand council hall buzzed with noise—nobles whispering, ministers arguing, priests muttering prayers under their breath as if demons might crawl out of the marble floor at any moment. At the very center of the chaos stood the object of all contention: a single crystal smartphone, resting innocently on a velvet cushion.
It glowed.
That alone was apparently enough to destabilize an empire.
"This is heresy!" thundered the Pope, slamming his staff against the ground. "Blasphemy! Witchcraft disguised as convenience! A demon's temptation wrapped in polished stone!"
The Pope of the Radiant Church was red-faced, white beard bristling like an angry cat. Holy light shimmered faintly around him, reacting aggressively to the mana embedded in the device.
Several priests gasped and crossed themselves.
Across from him, lounging far too comfortably on the imperial throne, the Emperor of Sityl raised a brow.
"Heresy?" the Emperor repeated lazily. "Last I checked, witchcraft doesn't help my ministers calculate taxes faster or stop my nobles from killing each other out of boredom."
A ripple of murmurs spread across the hall.
The Pope nearly choked. "Your Majesty! This object emits unknown energy, bends light, traps images, and—" he pointed accusingly at the phone, "—causes addiction!"
From the noble benches, a baron muttered, "That's rich, coming from the church."
The Pope snapped his head toward the sound. "WHO SAID THAT?"
Silence fell.
The Emperor sighed. "Let's not pretend this is about morality. You're upset because you didn't invent it."
The Pope's face darkened. "The church exists to protect humanity from corruption!"
"Then perhaps," the Emperor replied smoothly, "you should start by banning gambling halls, overpriced relic auctions, and whatever it is your bishops do with choir boys."
Several nobles choked.
The Crown Prince, standing beside the throne, stared at his father in dawning horror and admiration. Since when was Father this… savage?
One of the four great dukes cleared his throat nervously. "Your Majesty, with all due respect… the phones are causing unrest. My son hasn't slept in two days."
Another duke nodded solemnly. "Mine tried to pay servants in game currency."
A third duke added grimly, "My wife beat me at the escape game and won't stop reminding me."
The hall erupted into overlapping complaints.
"They're addictive!"
"They're brilliant!"
"They should be regulated!"
"They should be subsidized!"
"They should be burned!"
"Who burned one? I'll buy it!"
The Pope seized the moment. "You see? Chaos! These devices sow discord! They distract people from faith, from duty, from—"
"From what?" the Emperor interrupted. "Boredom?"
The Pope sputtered.
The Emperor leaned forward, eyes sharp now. "This empire thrives on progress. We adopted new irrigation systems. New military formations. New printing presses. Every time, the church screamed 'heresy.' And every time, you were wrong."
The Crown Prince's eyes widened. Around him, ministers and nobles slowly straightened, as if something unspoken had just clicked.
Technology.
Progress.
Control.
The Pope gripped his staff harder. "These phones come from an unknown source. For all we know, demons—"
"Demons," the Emperor said dryly, "are usually more honest about their intentions."
A ripple of laughter broke out before anyone could stop it.
At the far end of the hall, leaning casually against a pillar with arms crossed, Grand Duke Cassian Draven rolled his eyes.
He had been bored from the start.
This entire debate felt painfully familiar—humans panicking over something new because it made their carefully curated superiority feel fragile.
As the shouting continued, Cassian's mind drifted.
Phones, huh…
Unbidden, an image surfaced in his mind.
His elder brother.
The fearsome Duke of the North.
Supreme commander of border armies.
A man who once froze a battlefield with a single gesture.
…Crouched in the palace garden three days ago, hiding behind a rose bush.
Cassian had been walking past when he heard it.
"—just one more try—damn it—WHY IS THE FLOOR FAKE?!"
Cassian had paused.
Turned.
And seen his brother hunched over a glowing stone, face lit blue, eyes bloodshot, fingers twitching furiously.
Their gazes had met.
There had been a long silence.
His brother had said calmly, "You saw nothing."
Cassian had replied, equally calm, "I saw nothing."
They had both nodded.
And never spoken of it again.
Cassian exhaled through his nose now, faintly amused.
Witchcraft, my ass.
Back in the hall, the Pope raised his voice once more. "If the Empire does not ban these devices, the Church will be forced to—"
"To what?" the Emperor asked mildly. "Condemn me?"
The Pope stiffened.
The Emperor stood.
The entire hall fell silent.
"I will not ban them," the Emperor declared. "I will regulate them. Tax them. Monitor their distribution. And use them."
Gasps echoed.
The Crown Prince's breath caught.
"Father…?" he whispered.
The Emperor turned slightly, voice softer but firm. "Open your eyes, my son. Whoever controls information controls the future. These devices spread fast because people want them. If we ban them, they go underground. If we embrace them—"
He smiled thinly.
"—we own them."
The Crown Prince's spine straightened.
So did the ministers'.
So did the dukes'.
Even the Pope faltered, realizing—too late—that the battlefield had shifted.
One of the dukes laughed awkwardly. "Well… when you put it that way… perhaps they aren't entirely evil."
Another added, "My daughter did say she learned math faster using the notes function."
A third muttered, "The camera caught my steward stealing. That alone earns my support."
The Pope looked around, betrayed. "You would all side with glowing stones over divine law?!"
Cassian finally spoke, voice cool and unbothered. "If divine law can't compete with a game about falling into fake pits, that sounds like a branding issue."
Dead silence.
Then—laughter.
Not polite laughter. Real laughter.
The Pope stared at Cassian as if seeing him for the first time. "Grand Duke Draven… you mock the Church?"
Cassian shrugged. "I mock stupidity. Today, it just happens to be wearing holy robes."
The Emperor coughed to hide a smile.
The Pope's face purpled. "This council is corrupted!"
"Perhaps," the Emperor said calmly, "or perhaps it's finally awake."
As the session dissolved into frantic discussion, Cassian turned away, already bored again.
Whoever made those phones… he thought, eyes narrowing slightly, …is either a genius or a menace.
A pause.
Then, against his will, a faint smirk touched his lips.
Possibly both.
Far away, in the Demon Realm, Luceris sneezed.
"…Huh," he muttered. "Someone's talking about me."
He smiled brightly.