SLAP!
Anton's palm connected with Elara's cheek with an annihilating force. She was thrown sideways, collapsing to the floor violently.
"SHUT UP!" Anton bellowed, standing over her, his breath ragged. "This… this is how you repay a lifetime of my trust? My love? Woman, you have misunderstood me. I am Anton Vasiliev. And you are just a woman from the human Empire's Capital."
He turned the full, scorching weight of his disdain back to his son, his finger leveling once more. "Cecilia Araceli was a fake Saintess? Hah! You are wrong. She was the only real Saintess this continent has seen in a century. And that Ruby girl you fancy? She is the fraud."
A low scoff came from the head of the table. Arkai leaned back in his chair casually and crossed his arms. The sound drew Arzhen's horrified attention.
