Prime Minister Renault stepped forward slowly, his robes trailing, and bowed respectfully. His expression was deferential, yet he remained utterly composed:
"Your Majesty... I spoke out of turn just now, disrupting your peace. That was uncalled for. I ask for your forgiveness. Now, may I continue my statement?"
The Queen raised her hand in a slight gesture of permission, and only then did he straighten.
Silence descended upon the great hall. Everyone held their breath, all gazes fixed upon a single man. The atmosphere was taut, stretched thin as a bowstring; even the act of breathing seemed to be stifled.
Renault spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly to every corner of the room:
"The current situation sees two armies gathered outside the royal capital. On the surface, they are 'liberation forces'; in reality, they are a rebellious power capable of toppling the throne."
He paused slightly, his eyes sweeping toward the throne as his tone sank:
"What I am about to say may invoke Your Majesty's wrath. But as this concerns the fate of the nation, I beg you to hear me out."
The Queen leaned against the throne, her expression weary. She rubbed her brow lightly, her tone flat: "Speak."
Renault bowed slightly, his voice turning steady and resonant:
"Since the passing of the late King Evan, Your Majesty has seemed... increasingly detached from the affairs of the realm."
The tension in the hall spiked instantly.
Yet Renault did not falter; his tone remained calm:
"It is true—the unification of this continent was the late King's achievement, a legacy unparalleled. But since then—the administration has hollowed out, the lives of the people have withered, and our border defenses have frayed."
"In this last decade, the former Great General amassed power, mobilized troops at will, and drained the treasury to fund military expansion, leaving the common people in utter misery."
"Renault!" Allen interrupted with a roar, fury surging in his eyes. "That is slander!"
Renault merely waved a hand, his tone unhurried:
"General Allen, my words may be blunt, but they are not false. In your heart, you know this better than anyone."
He shifted his gaze, his voice sharpening:
"Had those ten thousand elite troops under your command struck decisively into the south a year ago—would the Ember Alliance have been able to grow into the threat they are today?"
The hall fell silent.
Helan gave a soft scoff, his expression complex. Frustrated as he was, he could not deny the truth in those words.
Even if Crimson Hearthhold had been stubborn—
Had the Kingdom of Lunaris thrown its full might against them a year ago, the current reality would likely be very different.
Renault continued, his voice deepening:
"And now, with three armies at an impasse, the situation hangs by a thread."
"If a full-scale war breaks out—"
He articulated each word, as if striking a hammer against the heart of every listener:
"Ruin, bloodshed, and a broken land will be the only outcome."
"Civilization will collapse, and the continent will regress to an age of barbarism. Lawless and predatory—that is the future we are inviting with our own hands."
The great hall sank into a profound, suffocating silence.
No one spoke. Even breathing felt like a labor.
Renault raised his head slowly, his gaze resolute. He finally delivered his ultimatum:
"That being the case—"
"Now that Prince Noah Virselis has revealed himself, and Prince Karl Lucian is present as well."
He paused, his voice clear and final:
"We should use this as a turning point—"
"Partition the land, and forge a covenant."
"In the name of peace, establish a century-long pact of non-aggression."
The words fell like a boulder into a still lake, sending silent yet far-reaching ripples through the minds of everyone present. Prime Minister Renault bowed once more—respectful yet unyielding, his tone steady and poised:
"Your Majesty could simply abdicate, handing the crown to Prince Noah. This way, you would be unburdened of your crushing responsibilities, free to leave this strife behind and spend the rest of your days in the tranquility you so clearly crave."
"Renault!" Lance thundered, his voice like cracking lightning. "What is the meaning of this? Are you harboring designs on the throne yourself!?"
The Queen raised a hand, a subtle movement of her fingertips that instantly quelled his rage. She remained expressionless, her tone cold and weary:
"Continue."
The Prime Minister sighed, a gesture that held a veneer of regret:
"This move... may seem unjust to Princess Lunethia. But compared to a princess who is still too soft and untested by the storms of the world, Prince Noah clearly possesses the vessel capable of carrying this empire. The future of the kingdom requires stability, not variables."
Allen let out a cold laugh, his tone as sharp as a blade:
"What a display of 'concern for the nation.' You are simply paving your own path. How much you've embezzled from the treasury over these years is no secret. You merely want to install a puppet king so you can continue to hold the strings—who here is blind enough not to see your scheme?"
Renault cleared his throat, acting as if he hadn't heard a word, his demeanor remaining effortlessly composed:
"If Your Majesty gives the word, tonight can still end as a banquet of goodwill, with host and guest parting in harmony. War, too, can be stifled before it is even ignited."
The Queen rubbed her temples again, as if agitated by this endless bickering. Her voice grew colder still:
"So your solution is—for me to surrender the throne?"
She raised her hand slowly, pointing her fingers at the people in the hall one by one. She gestured toward Karl and Helan, her tone indifferent:
"You two—you want me to hand over half the kingdom?"
She turned to Allen, her gaze icy:
"And you? Your father was convicted with damning evidence; what more do you want?"
Fury surged in Allen, his voice suppressed yet resolute:
"If Your Majesty continues to impose fabricated crimes upon my father, I and my ten thousand brothers outside these walls—will defy you to the death!"
Renault stepped forward hastily, his tone mediating:
"Calm, calm—I can promise this on behalf of Prince Noah: Once he ascends the throne, he will pardon Allen's past crimes and reinstate him as Great General; Lord Lance may be promoted to Commander of the Imperial Guard, reporting directly to the new King; and as for Prince Lucian—you may reclaim the old lands of Stellara and rule as King."
Karl's gaze turned frigid, his voice low and uncompromising:
"Only the Kingdom of Stellara? Your calculations are flawed."
He stepped forward, his voice like iron: "What we want—is the return of every inch of territory you have annexed, restored to its rightful owners."
The air in the hall turned stagnant.
The Queen stood up abruptly. Her robes rustled, the silver-white patterns shimmering under the lamplight.
"Enough..." she murmured, her voice sounding utterly exhausted by the strife. "I do not want to hear you squabble anymore."
She lifted her eyes, her gaze vacant and eerily calm:
"After tomorrow... the Kingdom of Lunaris is yours to dispose of."
—In an instant, the great hall plunged into absolute silence.
It was as if the very breath had been sucked out of the room.
Lance froze in place, staring at the throne in disbelief.
Helan, Karl, and Allen stood with varying expressions, yet not a soul dared to speak.
In that moment, it felt as if something—not just royal power, but the very "meaning" of their conflict—had quietly collapsed.
The air solidified; time itself seemed to stop.
And then, in the heart of that dead silence—
"Stop! She... she is not the true Queen!"
A hoarse, impassioned roar shattered the hypocrisy of the hall like a thunderclap.
The crowd turned toward the source—
A man in a tattered black robe, covered in the dust of the road and the frost of the winter, stumbled into the hall. He was a pathetic figure, yet he carried an intensity that burned with the ferocity of a final, dying ember.
It was—Hunter.
"I am Hunter! Once loyal to the true royal house!"
His voice was laced with the searing pain of blood and fire. "This woman—is no Queen! She is a monster wearing human skin!"
The words fell.
Yet—
There was no response.
A bizarre, suffocating silence permeated the hall. It was not born of doubt, nor of shock. It was... a cold, tacit acceptance.
It wasn't that they didn't believe him. It was simply that—it no longer mattered.
The partitioning of land, the treaties, the shifting of power... everything had already been decided this night. To unveil the truth now would only ignite a new catastrophe.
"Hunter." The Queen chuckled softly, rising from her seat, her eyes filled with irony and coldness. "You... that stray dog... you still have the guts to return?"
"I am here today—to rip that hypocritical mask off your face!" Hunter roared through gritted teeth.
However, as he scanned the room—
Those who had once looked up to him in the shadows, those who had once trusted him, all lowered their heads.
No one spoke. No one backed him.
Even those who still held loyalty to the true royal house chose to remain silent. Because they understood—
To speak now was not an act of justice; it was an act of suicide that would ignite a destruction no one could contain.
Karl scoffed, his tone cold to the point of ruthlessness:
"General Helan—dispose of this madman for us."
Helan nodded slightly, his expression darkening. Four guards moved like shadows, closing in instantly. Hunter struggled and roared, his voice tearing at his throat as if he sought to vomit up every ounce of hatred in his chest—but he was already mortally wounded; within moments, he was pinned to the floor, unable to move.
Karl watched the scene, his expression complex, whispering with a bitter smile:
"I never imagined the situation would devolve into this... I only hope that, in the end, we can still achieve peace."
—At that very instant!
A deafening roar shattered the hall!
"BOOM—!!!"
The dome of the great hall fissured under the shockwave; stone debris rained down as a massive breach tore open the sky. Two figures, wreathed in wild winds and powdered snow, plummeted from the high void, crashing into the center of the hall!
"I'm not late, am I?"
The newcomer landed, his tone still carrying a trace of nonchalance, as if he were merely rushing to a tardy banquet.
But in the next second—
His gaze locked onto the throne.
His face contorted violently.
"You—Crimson Witch!!"
The sound was torn from the very depths of his throat.
—Rhine.
His pupils contracted into pinpricks, fury erupting like an inferno in his eyes. That face, that shadow of crimson, that figure that had once bloomed amidst a sea of fire and corpses—
He would never mistake it.
It was the nightmare buried for fifteen full years.
The night the Empire burned, flames had swallowed the sky, and blood had painted the earth. That crimson-robed figure had stood in the center of the inferno, smiling, the very embodiment of calamity.
And now—
She sat upon the throne.
Time had left faint traces upon her features, yet it had done nothing to diminish that suffocating allure and overwhelming authority.
Rhine's hands trembled, but it was not from fear—
It was from a rage suppressed to the absolute limit.
Standing beside him was the young girl, her hair as black as night, her expression eerily still.
Lunethia.
She froze for a moment, then slowly closed her eyes, as if a truth she had long suspected was finally being confirmed.
"...So it is true."
She sighed softly, her voice barely audible.
When she looked up again, her eyes held emotions she could no longer suppress—confusion, rage, and a sliver of denial she dared not acknowledge.
She stared straight at the throne, her voice clear, yet laced with a subtle tremor:
"Who... exactly are you?"
"And where... is my mother?"
—The air seemed to freeze solid at that very moment.
In the next instant.
An invisible pressure surged outward from the throne!
It was not mere "presence" or "intent"—it was a force made almost tangible. It felt like the crushing depth of the deep sea, a colossal weight that instantly enveloped the entire hall.
The breath was choked from the lungs of everyone present; their chests felt as if they were being crushed by an invisible, gargantuan hand.
The Queen slowly raised her gaze.
She offered no answer.
Only—
A frigid, sidelong glance at Lunethia.
Her fingertips twitched, ever so slightly.
The shadows stretching across the floor—suddenly warped!
Darkness seemed to gain a life of its own, twisting into countless writhing vines. Charged with a bone-chilling cold, they erupted instantly, lashing out to coil around Lunethia!
The speed was absolute, a bolt of midnight tearing through the air!
"Let her go!!"
Rhine roared, and flames erupted from within him in a blinding explosion!
White-hot fire spiraled furiously along the length of his blade, warping the very air with its searing heat. He lunged forward, his longsword descending like a thunderbolt—
CRACK!
The shadow tendrils were severed in a single stroke!
The remnants scattered, dissolving like shards of shattered night.
The Queen's brow finally furrowed.
For the first time, her gaze truly settled upon Rhine.
"Who... are you?"
Rhine stared back at her, his eyes burning with a near-madness. He spat each word out, heavy and absolute, like a holy oath:
"I am—Rhine Solarel!"
"Prince of the Great Empire of Solaria!"
"And today—the reckoning is at hand!!"
Karl lunged forward, his voice low and urgent:
"Boss, stay calm! The situation has changed—"
The other four companions rushed to his side, forming a defensive perimeter and shielding the still-slumbering Gerald.
General Helan drew his sword with a metallic shing, his voice ringing like iron:
"Protect Prince Rhine!"
Four elite guards stepped out in unison, a forest of steel blades pointed directly at the throne!
The tension stretched until it reached the breaking point.
The Queen chuckled, her tone laced with faint, effortless mockery:
"How foolish."
"Do you truly... believe you can stand against me?"
"You won't escape this time!" Rhine bellowed.
The Queen slowly raised her right hand.
Her voice dropped, becoming ethereal and hollow, as she began to chant an ancient, arcane incantation. The syllables were alien and twisted, as if dragged from an ancient abyss, carrying a heart-stopping aura of ruin.
The air began to shiver.
The temperature plummeted.
"Stop her from casting!" Rhine shouted.
"No problem!"
Owen let out a savage roar, his muscles bulging as he grabbed the banquet's massive table. With a violent heave, he used the giant slab as a projectile, launching it like a siege weapon directly at the throne!
BANG—!!
The Queen did not even rise.
She simply flicked her left hand.
The table—heavy enough to crush several men—seemed to lose all weight in mid-air. In an instant, it was swatted aside, smashing into the distant wall like a scrap of paper!
Stone exploded; the thunderous boom echoed through the hall!
—Total silence fell upon the room.
The pupils of every onlooker shrank to pinpricks.
In that moment, they finally understood—
The person sitting before them had never been a "Queen."
She was—
A being that transcended humanity.
A demon god descended upon the world.
Just as that pressure threatened to grind their very souls to dust—
"It's not over yet!!"
Gareth screamed, a glint of steel flashing in his eyes!
He snatched two dinner knives from the table and snapped his wrists—
SHING!!
Two slivers of cold light tore through the air, lightning-fast, aiming straight for the Queen's vitals!
Yet, the Queen merely raised her left hand, her fingers curling like talons. With unerring precision, she caught both knives steady between her fingers. Her expression remained utterly impassive; her right hand continued to weave the incantation, the chant droning on like a recurring nightmare.
"——Freeze."
A single word spoken, descending like a divine oracle from the nine netherworlds.
A ring of scorching crimson light erupted from her right palm. The red glow centered on her, instantly expanding and consuming the entire hall.
In a heartbeat, everyone—General Helan, Karl, the soldiers, all of them—shuddered. They froze in place like statues, trapped in the amber of her will, unable to move a single muscle!
Lunethia's pupils dilated, her chest heaving as she fought to breathe. She could feel a powerful, invisible binding coiling slowly, inexorably, around her throat.
The Queen stepped forward, her movement as fluid as a shadow following a form. In a heartbeat, she was before Lunethia. She opened her palm, reaching directly for the princess's throat!
"Ah—!"
But in the next instant, a blaze erupted!
Rhine's body was suddenly wreathed in crimson flame, burning with the heat of a divine sun. He seared away the effects of the magical paralysis and swung his blade!
The great flaming sword descended in a furious arc, the searing light reflecting off the Queen's pale, impassive face.
The Queen furrowed her brow, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, yet she remained utterly composed. She turned her left hand, striking the air—and with that single motion, she sent Rhine flying through the air!
BOOM!
Rhine slammed into the side wall of the great hall. Dust billowed, and metallic ornaments scattered across the floor like rain.
He clutched his chest, struggling to his feet, his eyes burning with undying resolve:
"Crimson Witch! If you want to touch her, you have to get through me first!"
The Queen cast a cold glance at him, her brows knitting together: "You... are you the contingency she left behind? I don't think so."
Rhine gritted his teeth. His flames roared back to life, and he raised his sword: "I don't know what you're talking about, but as long as you intend to harm her, I will stand before you!"
The Queen ignored him. Her gaze turned glacial. She curled her fingers into a claw and snatched Lunethia by the neck, lifting her clear off the ground.
Her voice was cold and dismissive: "What I do with her is none of your concern."
THUD!
Rhine kicked off the stone wall behind him, launching himself forward like a burning arrow!
But the Queen simply pivoted, her robes fluttering as she effortlessly sidestepped the strike. She countered with a sweep of her leg—
BANG!
Rhine was kicked away once more, crashing into a distant colonnade and sending an entire row of gilded decorations shattering into the air!
The Queen gently stroked Lunethia's cheek, her tone sounding like a whisper to a sleeping cat: "Never mind. We have a little time left. At the very least, we should say a proper goodbye."
Before the words had finished hanging in the air, her figure turned into a blur, like a phantom. A strange, inexplicable wind whipped up, and within the vortex, light and shadow fractured and splintered.
"Don't you dare run!" Rhine roared. He endured the searing pain to scramble to his feet, sword in hand, charging forward.
But that wind seemed to come from another world; it swallowed the figures of the Queen and Lunethia, causing them to dissipate into nothingness in an instant!
"LUNETHIA!! CRIMSON WITCH!! DAMN YOU!!!"
Rhine's shout echoed like thunder. The roaring flames lit up the empty hall, leaving him as the only one left standing amidst the ruins.
The next second, the red light faded. The others, freed from their paralysis, scrambled to their feet—Helan, Karl, Gareth, and the rest.
"Boss!" Karl rushed forward, grabbing Rhine's shoulder and shouting in a low, urgent tone: "Calm down! We have to assess the situation first!"
Rhine's eyes were bloodshot. He gripped his sword, which was still smoldering, his entire body coiled like a taut wire. But in the end—he nodded.
He trusted Karl.
Even as the fury raged within his heart, he knew that to act on impulse now would be suicide.