Magister of Lys's Mansion, Banquet Hall.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated the hall as bright as day, their glow dancing across expensive carpets, silver tableware, and the guests' magnificent robes.
The air was a sweet mixture of perfume, roasted meat, and aged wine, yet it couldn't mask the tense, turbulent, and oppressive atmosphere.
Almost all the prominent nobles of Rhis City-State had gathered here tonight.
Some wore reserved smiles, conversing in low voices with acquaintances; others' eyes darted about, their expressions uneasy; still others were ashen-faced, barely suppressing their anger.
It was no ordinary banquet, and everyone knew it.
To one side of the main stage, Cassimir Antalion stood in an overly ornate suit of plate armor, adorned with intricate patterns and jewels, his arms crossed, a habitual frivolous smile playing on his lips.
His gaze, like barbed hooks, swept back and forth across the faces of several nobles who disagreed with his father's policies.
He deliberately raised his voice, discussing with his lackeys certain 'overly ambitious' and 'unrealistic' fools, drawing a round of suppressed chuckles.
The nobles whose faces his gaze had brushed over looked extremely displeased, clutching their wine glasses until their knuckles turned white.
Yet, no one dared to act out in the heart of the Magister's Mansion, under the watchful eyes of the well-armored guards with their hands on their sword hilts.
"Enough, Cassimir," a calm yet authoritative voice rang out.
Magister Dorian Antalion slowly emerged from the side hall.
He wore a deep purple, gold-embroidered robe, his hair meticulously combed, and his face bore his usual inscrutable faint smile.
He raised a hand to lightly press down, stopping his son's provocative behavior, his gaze sweeping across the hall. The low murmurs instantly subsided.
"Gentlemen, please forgive the rashness of youth." Dorian bowed slightly, his posture elegant, though his tone conveyed little apology. "I have invited everyone here tonight primarily to discuss two matters."
He paused, his voice echoing clearly in the now quiet hall: "The first concerns the future of our Rhis."
"A distinguished guest of noble status and abundant wealth is about to arrive in Rhis, seeking our friendship and... support."
He deliberately drew out the word "support," his gaze subtly glancing at the several council members with the stiffest expressions.
"According to the intelligence I've received, this esteemed guest is of noble lineage and his wealth is... considerable. He brings a proposal for cooperation that will greatly benefit Rhis's future."
"I personally believe this investment is worthwhile."
He changed his tone, which became earnest and hypocritical.
"However, our Rhis is ultimately a noble council system. Major decisions still require your opinions. How could I, Dorian, be a person who acts autocratically?"
A silence fell below, broken only by suppressed breathing.
Several council members exchanged glances, filled with anger and helplessness.
How was this a discussion? It was clearly an announcement, an order!
The so-called noble council had long been a mere facade in the years since the Magister seized control of the army and purged dissenters.
Dorian's mention of it now was nothing but naked mockery, telling them that their opinions were irrelevant, but they must obey.
In the crowd, Sa Melis stood quietly, two excited flushes appearing on her beautiful face.
This "Targaryen Investment," which she had brokered and strongly promoted, was now on the verge of being finalized under the Magister's forceful push.
Once successful, she would no longer be just a socialite adept at manipulating connections in the Perfume Garden, but a woman who influenced city-state decisions, wielding real power, and perhaps... even more.
Her fingertips trembled slightly with excitement.
Dorian was very pleased with this deathly obedience.
His gaze, like a hawk's, swept over the several council members who were whispering with lowered heads and grim expressions, a cold arc forming at the corner of his mouth.
Do you really think your petty machinations with the Roagar, or even the Hain remnants, could escape my eyes?
They are merely useful pawns, kept to balance the situation.
But tonight, it's time to bring out the 'chicken' for the 'killing a chicken to warn the monkey' lesson and let them show their final value.
"As for the second matter..." Dorian spoke again, his voice suddenly turning cold, breaking the silence.
"I presume you all have heard that recently, our Rhis City-State has had too many rats, and not only too many, but restless ones, scurrying in the shadows, even... reaching their claws into things they shouldn't touch."
He paused deliberately, his gaze like a knife, cutting across the faces of several nobles who instantly turned pale: "I hear that some of your granaries and warehouses seem to be restless, missing some things?"
"Strangely, why has no one reported this to me, the Magister?"
The bodies of those nobles trembled, their heads bowed even lower, and cold sweat instantly drenched their backs.
"However, it's fine." Dorian's tone became generous again.
"As Magister, it is my duty to protect the peace of Rhis and your property."
"My army recently destroyed two rat nests and caught many... squeaking beasts."
Just then, hurried footsteps came from outside the banquet hall. A soldier, looking somewhat flustered, appeared at the doorway, seemingly wanting to report something.
Dorian's speech was interrupted, and a clear flicker of displeasure crossed his face, but his good breeding prevented him from immediately reacting.
He glanced at Cassimir.
Cassimir understood, immediately leading a small squad of armored guards, striding towards the hall exit, his face showing the impatience of being disturbed: "I'll go see which blind idiot is making a fuss, Father, please continue."
Dorian watched his son leave, then turned back to the somewhat stunned nobles in the hall, whose atmosphere had grown even more subtle, his face resuming his all-controlling smile.
"As I was saying, two nests of rats were caught." He lightly clapped his hands.
The side door opened in response.
Two teams of Magister's Mansion guards roughly escorted two groups of disheveled, ragged, scarred, and stained captives, filing into the banquet hall.
They were forcibly made to kneel on the central open ground.
Cries and suppressed whimpers arose.
The captives cowered in terror, not daring to look up.
Dorian strode forward, first approaching the larger group of captives, comprising men, women, and children.
He nudged with his foot the middle-aged man kneeling at the very front, whose hair was white and whose once luxurious but now tattered clothes lay in tatters.
"This nest is called Roagar," Dorian's voice was mocking, as if introducing a group of livestock to be slaughtered. "They look quite plump, full of fat."
"Rats, of course, you kill every one you see, especially fat rats. They must be killed first as a warning to others."
He looked up, his cold gaze sweeping across the hall, lingering especially on the faces of several nobles who had marital or business ties with the Roagar Family:
"Right here, execute them on the spot, so that all of you may see how I, Dorian Antalion, fulfill my duty as Magister, eradicate pests, and maintain order in Rhis."
He waved his hand lightly.
A team of fierce guards immediately stepped forward, two by two, roughly dragging members of the Roagar Family, whose mouths were gagged, emitting only desperate whimpers, towards the banquet hall exit.
The struggles of the women, the terrified eyes of the children, the despairing grunts of the men, contrasted cruelly with the deathly silence in the hall and the nobles' expressions, which ranged from horror to numbness to a sense of shared dread.
Dorian was very satisfied with the effect. He walked over to another smaller group of captives.
This group was much smaller, only a few individuals, all injured and dispirited.
He extended his jewel-ringed hand and unceremoniously pinched the chin of the silver-haired woman kneeling at the front, forcing her to look up.
Under the torchlight, a pale but still undeniably beautiful face was revealed, her light purple eyes filled with humiliation, hatred, and a hint of dying despair.
It was Luciana Hain.
"This nest, well, it's thinly populated," Dorian sneered, examining Luciana's face.
"She's not bad-looking, what a pity." He flung her face away, turning to the crowd, his voice suddenly rising, filled with mockery and a sense of historical weight:
"Hain! What a... ancient and glorious surname!"
He scanned the crowd, as if telling an absurd joke: "I can't believe that after more than a hundred years, they haven't all died out yet?"
"Truly... astonishingly tenacious."
"They even supposedly harbored delusions of staging another'Spring of Rhis' here, under my rule?"
He deliberately drew out his words, savoring the pleasure of humiliating history and trampling on the defeated, preparing to utter the word that would completely seal the Hain Family's ambitions.
However—
"BOOM—!!!!"
An indescribable, terrifying roar, a mix of thunder, beastly growls, and tearing metal, erupted without warning from just outside the Magister's Mansion, a destructive bellow from an extremely close distance!
The entire sturdy banquet hall violently shook in response!
Clang—!
The crystal chandeliers swayed wildly, clashing with ear-splitting sounds.
Paintings on the walls tilted, silver tableware and crystal wine glasses clinked, toppled, and expensive wine spilled onto the precious carpets and the guests' splendid robes.
"Ah—!"
"What's going on?!"
The nobles screamed in terror, falling into disarray, their faces pale, overturning tables and chairs, pushing and shoving. Their former composure and suppression vanished, and the banquet hall instantly became a chaotic mess.
Dorian staggered from the sudden violent tremor, nearly falling. The arrogance and mockery on his face were instantly replaced by shock and fury.
He sharply looked towards the hall entrance, then suddenly realized.
The guards sent out to execute the Roagar members, after quite some time, had not sent back any sound! As if a clay ox had fallen into the sea!
Something was wrong! Very wrong!
A cold chill suddenly shot up his spine.
"You! Go out and see! What on earth is happening!" He forced himself to appear calm, pointing at a guard captain beside him, but his voice held a barely perceptible tremble.
The guard swallowed, gripped his spear, and, steeling himself, quickly rushed towards the banquet hall doors.
Just as he reached out to push open the heavy, carved wooden doors—
A golden lightning bolt, dazzling to the extreme and pure enough to freeze the soul, erupted without warning from the night outside the door, like a divine sword of judgment, instantly engulfing his figure!
There was no scream, no explosion.
Only a flash of light.
Where the guard had stood, there was only a human-shaped, charred void with edges shimmering with dark red molten traces, and a few rapidly dissipating wisps of smoke.
And the golden lightning, its momentum undiminished, slammed violently into the connection between the massive stone dome and a supporting pillar on one side.
"RUMBLE—!!!"
A more terrifying sound of collapse than before erupted!
Rubble, bricks, and broken timber poured down like a torrential rain!
More than half of the banquet hall's dome was literally split open by this attack, revealing the pitch-black night sky outside, where faint golden electric light flickered!
Cold wind, carrying drizzle and the smell of gunpowder, poured in, making the remaining lights flicker wildly, illuminating the ruined hall and the terrified crowd like a ghost realm.
Dead silence.
A brief, heart-stopping dead silence.
Then, even more hysterical breakdowns and screams.
Dorian froze in place, his face devoid of color.
He stared intently at the gaping hole, at the deep darkness beyond the door.
"Thump."
"Thump."
"Thump."
Heavy, slow, earth-shattering thuds, as if trampling on everyone's heart, clearly emanated from the depths of the darkness beyond the door, where the destructive lightning had descended, growing closer.
Each step made the remaining floor slightly tremble.
Each step tightened the already frayed nerves of the nobles in the hall.
His pupils, in extreme horror, constricted to pinpricks, reflecting the darkness outside the door.
And, the massive, majestic outline, glowing with a faint golden light, belonging to myth and nightmare, gradually emerging from the darkness.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898