Chapter 40 - Imperial Massacre
Deep in the geographic heart of the Light Continent lay a vast expanse of neutral territory—a land claimed by no single kingdom, serving as the quiet, spiritual anchor of the entire empire. Sitting far outside the jurisdiction of ambitious provincial kings, it functioned as a vital buffer zone, keeping ancient rivalries from tearing the realm apart.
At the absolute center stood the Imperial Citadel, a colossal city-fortress carved directly into the living mountain. Built to resemble a grand monument to unity, it functioned in reality as an unbreakable stronghold. High above the squabbles of regional monarchs sat the Emperor's throne, a symbol of absolute, impartial authority over the continent.
Yet inside its sun-dappled courtyard, the grand weight of empire felt worlds away.
"Schi-schi, Schi-schi!"
A five-year-old girl in a dusty pink dress raced through the trimmed hedges, her brown ponytail bouncing wildly with every step. In her tiny, mud-stained hands, she proudly held up a slippery green frog. Her bright red eyes sparkled with pure triumph as she skidded to a halt in front of a tall lady wrapped in a pristine white cloak.
The lady turned. Sun-golden hair framed her sharp, gentle features, held back on the left by a delicate rose hairpin. Her soft blue eyes melted with affection as she knelt, bringing herself down to the little girl's eye level. Resting against her hip was a legendary blade bound in a brilliant white sheath, adorned with an intricate crimson hilt and a sharp golden tip.
The Excalibur of Wisdom.
"I found him in the garden!" the little girl giggled, thrusting the frog forward. "What do you think is the best name for him?"
"A name?" The lady tilted her head, staying silent for a thoughtful moment. "Whatever comes to your heart, my lady."
"Mmmm... Let's see..." The little girl tapped her chin, humming softly. "What about... Richard?"
The lady gave a gentle, solemn nod. "That sounds like a magnificent name, my lady."
"Then Richard it is!" The girl beamed, giggling uncontrollably. "It fits him perfectly, because he's going to be my prince! Just as soon as I kiss him..."
She puckered her lips and leaned close to the squirming frog.
"My lady!" the blonde knight warned quickly, placing a soft hand on the girl's shoulder. "Do not kiss it. You don't know where it has been."
"But I've heard the stories!" the girl pouted, her cheeks puffing out. "The ones where a lone prince gets turned into a frog by a spell! What if Richard is a prince waiting for me?"
"No, my lady," the knight said gently, scooping the girl up into her arms with practiced ease. "Those are only fairytales. Real frogs carry sickness, and you'll fall ill if you kiss Richard."
"Aww..." The little girl hung her head, letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. "Fine..."
She loosened her grip, letting the frog drop safely into the soft green grass of the Imperial Castle's private garden, where it hopped contentedly away.
"Nanalia!"
A graceful woman in an elegant red dress walked down the sweeping marble stairs. She had cascading curls of brown hair and warm, striking red eyes—the very image of the child in front of her.
"Your dress is utterly filthy!"
"Mom!" Nanalia brightened instantly.
The blonde knight set the girl down, and Nanalia sprinted into her mother's opening arms while the knight followed quietly behind.
The woman gathered her daughter into a warm embrace, brushing a streak of dirt off the pink fabric. "Have you been playing in the mud again, Nana? You know you'll catch a fever if you stay out in the damp dirt."
"I'm fine, Mom, see?" Nana huffed proudly, puffing out her chest. "I'm totally invincible!"
The mother chuckled, rising to her feet before turning to the knight with a look of deep gratitude. "Thank you for watching over her for a while, Saira. I really appreciate you taking the time, despite your exhausting schedule as the Sword God."
The legendary Sword God of Light, Saira Kaisen, simply bowed her head softly, placing her right hand over her heart.
"It was no trouble at all, Your Majesty," Saira replied, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Princess Nana and I were having a wonderful time."
"Yeah!" Nana chimed in, bouncing on her heels. "She even helped me name my new pet prince!"
"A pet..?"
"It's a frog!"
The Empress of the Light Continent, Maia Heimforth, froze, her eyes widening in gentle horror. "You touched a frog?!"
"Yehehe! Aren't I awesome?"
"Grandmaster!" a voice called out from the archway. A heavily armored knight ran toward them, his boots echoing sharply off the stone, before dropping to one knee. "Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion. Good morning."
"At ease," Maia said warmly, giving him a gentle wave of her hand. "Go on, I'll take it from here with Nana."
Saira bowed again. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
She turned to Nana, "I'll be back as quickly as possible, we'll play again, okay?"
Nana smiled, nodding, "Yes!"
As Saira walked away with the messenger, the knight quickly produced an official scroll, his face tight with concern. "Grandmaster, a red dragon has been spotted approaching the Imperial Citadel's outer borders. Reports state it has already laid waste to several nearby towns—attacking without provocation."
He looked up at Saira, his voice laced with dread. "It has a history of indiscriminate destruction. We have reason to believe its path leads directly to the capital. What are your orders?"
Beneath her white cloak, Saira's hand tightened subtly around the hilt of the Sword of Wisdom. "I will handle it personally. Prepare a carriage for the border immediately."
"Yes, Grandmaster!"
***
From the high garden balustrade, little Nana watched gates of the fortress, Saira left just an hour ago, and she already missed her.
"Mom, when is Schi-schi coming back?" Nana asked, tugging on her mother's red dress. "I want to show her Richard again!"
"She'll be back soon, sweetheart," Maia reassured her, smoothing down her daughter's messy hair. "Come along, let's get you washed up before lunch."
After handing Nana over to the royal maids for a warm bath, Maia walked back through the grand, quiet halls of the palace toward the Emperor's private sanctuary. The silence in the corridor was soothing, a rare moment of peace in a turbulent empire. She gently pushed open the heavy oak doors to the Emperor's office.
There, sitting behind a mountain of neglected paperwork, was her husband, Edward. His head was resting flat on the wooden desk, only his arms visible beneath the stacks of parchment.
"Edward, sleeping on the job already?" Maia teased softly, a loving smirk playing on her lips as she stepped closer. "The empire won't govern itself, you know..."
She rounded the desk.
The smirk vanished as her soul turned to ice.
Edward wasn't sleeping. A jagged, gaping hole was carved across his throat. Blood had soaked into the mountain of paperwork, staining the royal seals a sickening, viscous crimson that was still dripping onto the carpet in a rhythmic, agonizing pulse.
Maia's breath caught in her throat. Her hands flew to her mouth, smothering a desperate scream before it could tear out of her chest.
Good thing you covered your mouth," a voice purred smoothly from the shadows. "If you had shouted, I would've slit your throat right here, right now."
Maia spun around, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Standing against the tall mahogany bookshelves at the far corner of the room was a hooded figure wrapped in a dark cloak.
"Y-You!" Maia gritted her teeth, her entire body trembling in a mix of violent rage and suffocating horror. "You monster... Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
"Oh, I know..." The figure let out a low, sickening chuckle.
He stepped out of the shadow, entering a beam of golden sunlight pouring through the stained-glass window.
Maia's breath hitched. Her blood ran utterly cold.
Beneath the hood was a face she knew well—short blue hair, striking rose-tinted eyes, and familiar, sharp features.
"N-No..." Maia stumbled backward, her hand pressing against the edge of the blood-stained desk. "Thorskil...?"
"Yes..." The man smiled warmly, his eyes devoid of any actual humanity. "Thorskil."
"W-Why...?" Maia's eyes darted frantically down to his belt. His iconic weapon that a Sword God must always hold, was gone.
He wasn't holding the Excalibur of Destruction on his waist.
She stared at his posture, the eerie, unnatural tilt of his head, the terrifyingly hollow smile stretching across his face.
"You're... you're not Thorskil," Maia whispered, terror giving way to a sudden, chilling realization.
The man snickered, leaning back against the wood. "Oh? Why do you say that? Of course I'm Thorskil."
"No, you're not!" Maia's voice shook, her chest heaving as she backed away. "Thorskil doesn't sound like you. He doesn't look at people like that!"
"Tch. Really?" The imposter lightly touched his throat with two pale fingers, rolling his shoulders. "Ah, maybe I should've practiced the voice magic a bit more. Oh well..." He let out a dark, amused laugh that made the hair on the back of Maia's neck stand up. "...you're going to die anyway."
Maia backed away, her hands searching blindly for anything to defend herself.
Click.
The heavy oak doors swung open.
"Mom! Dad! I finished my bath! Look, the maids gave me a new—"
"NANA! NO!" Maia screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Oh?" The imposter turned his head slowly, a wicked dagger slipping seamlessly from his sleeve into his hand. "The little princess is here too? How splendid. The whole royal family gets to go to heaven together."
"RUN, NANA! RUN!" Maia roared, terror entirely consuming her voice.
"Huh...?" Nana blinked, her small hands dropping her new wooden toy as she stared at her mother in complete confusion.
Before the child could comprehend the terror in her mother's eyes, the imposter closed the distance in a blur, snatching Nana by the collar of her fresh dress and lifting her clean off the floor.
"Look at you," he mused, bringing the little girl's terrified face close to his own. "You've got your mother's eyes."
"W-Who are you...?" Nana gasped, her tiny legs kicking helplessly in the air. Tears filled her bright red eyes, spilling over her flushed cheeks. "Please put me down...! You're scaring me... Mama...!"
"Get your filthy hands off my daughter!"
CRASH!
Maia slammed a heavy ceramic vase squarely into the side of the killer's head, the clay shattering into a hundred pieces.
"Argh!" The imposter hissed, dropping Nana to the floor as he stumbled back. In a flash of blinding speed, his hand shot out, clamping around Maia's delicate throat like an iron vise, lifting the Empress off her feet.
"You miserable bitch," he growled.
"N-Nana..." Maia choked, her face turning pale as she clawed desperately at his immovable hand. "Run... Please... run...!"
"Mama...?" Nana sobbed from the floor, paralyzed by horror.
CRACK.
The sound echoed through the high-ceilinged room with a sickening, definitive finality.
Maia's violent struggling stopped instantly. Her head fell at an unnatural, broken angle, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as her body went completely limp.
"Tch." The killer let out a heavy, disappointed sigh. "Ah... I didn't mean to break her neck so quickly. That was boring."
With a callous flick of his wrist, he hurled her lifeless body backward. The Empress smashed through the tall glass window, the stained-glass shattering into a shower of sparkling crimson shards as her body plunged into the air outside.
"Now then..." The imposter turned his gaze back to the doorway, his dagger spinning lazily between his fingers. "...where did the little pipsqueak go?"
Nana was already running.
Her tiny feet slammed against the cold marble floorboards of the royal hallway as she sprinted blindly, turning corner after corner.
"G-Guards! Help! Somebody help!"
Tears streamed down her face like an open faucet, blinding her vision as sob after sob ripped through her small chest. The castle that had felt so warm and safe only hours ago had transformed into a nightmare of endless, cavernous shadows.
Ahead, the heavy tread of iron boots echoed down the hall. Two royal guards turned the corner, their weapons drawn at the sound of the distress call.
"Your Highness!" The first, an elf with sharp features and silver hair, white eyes, rushed forward and dropped to one knee in front of the hysterical child. "What happened?! Are you alright?!"
The second guard, a sturdy human, short light brown hair and black eyes, knelt beside her. "Princess, why are you crying?!"
"Someone's... someone's hurting Mama in Papa's office!" Nana wailed, her hands clutching the human guard's armor, shaking uncontrollably. "Please! Help them! Please!"
"An intruder?!" The human guard's face darkened with rage. "Tch! Where are the elite guards stationed at the royal wing?!"
"Dead."
A calm, sickening voice echoed from the dark end of the hallway.
Nana flinched, a violent shiver racking her tiny frame as she slowly turned around.
The imposter stepped into the torchlight, a chilling smile plastered across his face. "They're all dead."
"YOU!" The human guard, Golad, drew his sword, stepping protectively in front of the child. "Who are you?! Do you have any idea what you've—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know what I've done," the man interrupted with a dismissive roll of his eyes. He flipped the blood-stained dagger in his palm, taking slow steps toward them.
"Thorskil...?!" The human guard gasped, his eyes widening in utter disbelief. "Why would you...?"
The elf guard's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he sensed the sheer, unnatural malice radiating from the man in front of them. "Golad! Take the Princess and run! Get to the garden and call for the high knights!"
"John, no—"
"GO!" John shouted, drawing his twin blades as a bright white mana aura erupted around his body. "I'll hold him off!"
Golad didn't hesitate. He scooped Nana up into his arms, wrapping his heavy cloak around her, and sprinted down the adjoining corridor as fast as his legs could carry him.
Behind them, the terrifying sound of steel clashing against steel echoed down the halls, followed by the terrible, sharp laughter of a monster.
"We're safe now... We're almost out..." Golad panted heavily as he burst through the grand glass doors leading out to the sunlit royal garden. The fresh air hit their faces, but as Golad took three steps onto the lawn, his boots abruptly stopped.
The knight went rigid as stone.
"Golad...?" Nana whimpered from inside his cloak, her chest heaving with desperate sobs. "We have to go back for Mom... she's upstairs... she..."
She pushed the cloak aside and looked up.
Her words died in her throat.
In the center of the serene, sun-drenched garden sat the grand marble fountain. Pierced directly onto the sharp iron spire at its center was the body of Empress Maia.
The clear, sparkling water had turned a deep, horrific crimson, cascading down the white stone tiers in waves of blood. Her dress was ruined, her neck twisted at an impossible angle—forcing her pale, lifeless face to stare directly down the path toward her daughter. Her wide, glassy red eyes were fixed on Nana, forever frozen in a look of helpless terror.
"Mama...?" Nana whispered.
The word was barely a breath. The world around her lost all sound, all color, all meaning.
"Nana! Don't look! Please, Gods, don't look!" Golad gasped, his trembling hand slamming over her eyes, burying her face into his armored chest as tears spilled from his own eyes.
But it was too late.
Behind the darkness of Golad's hand, etched forever into the mind of a five-year-old girl, was the sight of her mother's blood flowing through the water—and the silent, broken gaze of the realm's fallen Empress staring back at her.
***
Heavy mountain wind whipped across the high stone battlements of the border fortress. Row upon row of capital knights stood frozen in formation, their iron boots locked in place, knuckles white around the hafts of their spears. Sweat stung their eyes as a suffocating shadow stretched across the horizon.
A crimson tempest surged through the sky, the Red Dragon. Its colossal wings beat like thunderclaps, scales glowing like molten iron as its roar rattled the very foundation of the wall.
"Your orders, Grandmaster!" the garrison commander shouted over the gale, his voice trembling beneath his helmet.
Saira stood calmly at the edge of the parapet, her white cloak fluttering softly in the violent draft. She looked out at the approaching calamity, letting out a small, tired sigh.
"Mages, raise the barrier and protect the walls," Saira instructed softly, her voice carrying unnaturally clear over the dragon's roar. "I'll end this quickly. A little princess is waiting for me back at the castle."
She reached down to her hip.
SCHWING—
The moment her fingers gripped the crimson hilt, a blinding, ethereal radiance erupted across the battlements. Saira unsheathed the Excalibur of Wisdom. The blade of blue metal hummed with divine, high-frequency mana, illuminating the dark sky in a dazzling wash of sapphire and brilliant white light.
Before the commander could even blink, Saira stepped off the ledge.
She didn't fall. In a single, instantaneous burst of movement, the Sword God vanished.
A single line of blinding azure light cleaved through the sky—a cut so impossibly fast and clean that the air itself seemed to split in silence.
The massive Red Dragon froze mid-air as Its deafening roar cut short.
A second later, a thin line of blue light appeared down the center of the beast's colossal frame. With a sickening sound, the entire monster was sliced perfectly in half, its burning mass plunging uselessly into the rocky ravine far below the fortress walls.
Saira landed gracefully on the outer rocks, the Excalibur of Wisdom already clicking smoothly back into its white sheath. Not a single drop of dragon blood stained her pristine cloak.
The knights on the wall stared in stunned, breathless silence. They had heard legends of the Sword God of Light, but watching her dismantle a calamity-class beast in a single, effortless motion was beyond comprehension.
Hours passed. The border knights swarmed the ravine to process the dragon's massive carcass, while Saira boarded her royal carriage for the long trek back to the Imperial Citadel.
Inside the quiet, velvet-lined carriage, Saira rested her elbow casually on the window frame, leaning her cheek against her palm. To anyone passing by, she looked less like a legendary warrior capable of felling dragons and more like a noble lady bored by a long commute.
Her soft blue eyes drifted along the rolling green hills, a gentle, fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
I wonder if Nana managed to kiss that frog... Maia probably gave her a stern lecture if she did.
The thought of the little girl's dramatic pouts made a faint chuckle escape her throat. She looked forward to getting back, taking off her armor, and having afternoon tea with Edward and Maia once the Emperor finished his endless mountains of paperwork.
When the carriage finally rolled through the grand gates of the Imperial Castle, the usual bustling atmosphere was nowhere to be found.
The courtyard was eerily quiet. Unmanned posts littered the perimeter, and the few guards present were running frantically back and forth like headless chickens, their faces pale and panicked.
Saira stepped down from the carriage, her eyebrows pulling together in mild confusion.
Before she could take three steps, a knight burst out of the palace archway, his armor clacking loudly as he sprinted wildly toward her.
"Grandmaster! Grandmaster!"
Saira turned, her expression turning guarded. "Calm down. What is it?"
The knight skidded to a halt in front of her, his knees shaking so badly he could barely stand. Tears and sweat streaked through the dust on his face, his breathing frantic and ragged.
"The... the Emperor..." The knight choked on his own breath, clutching his chest. "His Majesty is dead! And the Empress... Her Majesty was thrown from the tower... She's dead too!"
The world went instantly, deafeningly quiet.
Saira's warm, soft blue eyes widened until they were entirely hollow.
The gentle smile vanished from her face so fast it was as if it had never existed.
"What...?" Saira's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a sudden, suffocating horror. "Come again...?"
"They were murdered!" the knight sobbed, choking on his own tears. "A-an intruder—someone killed them both! The whole palace is in chaos!"
Before the knight could even finish his sentence, Saira's hands shot forward, clamping down on his armored shoulders with bone-crushing force. Her soft blue eyes were wide, practically unseeing in her sheer panic.
"Where is Nana?"
"I-in her quarters! A guard secured her—"
Saira didn't wait to hear the rest.
With a deafening CRACK, the stone courtyard shattered beneath her boots as she surged forward, blurring into a streak of blinding blue lightning as she tore into the castle halls.
She burst into the inner sanctuary, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Down the quiet residential corridor, a muffled, heartbreaking sound cut through the silence—a tiny, ragged sob.
Saira skidded to a halt outside the bedroom door, her hands trembling as she pushed it open.
Inside, a small lump on the bed was buried entirely beneath a thick blanket, shaking violently with muffled cries. Standing beside the bed was a young human guard with short brown hair, his hand resting nervously on his sword hilt.
"Grandmaster..." he whispered, immediately bowing his head in respect.
Saira turned her hollow, burning gaze to him. "Thank you for watching over her," she said, her voice tight as she fought to keep it steady. "I'll handle this. Wait outside on standby."
"As you wish, Grandmaster." The guard nodded quietly and exited, pulling the door shut behind him.
Saira stepped softly toward the bed. She unclipped her heavy white cloak and let it pool onto the floor, exposing her slick, form-fitting silver armor. It wasn't bulky or restrictive like a heavy knight's plate; it was forged purely for high-speed mobility and lethal precision.
She sat gently on the edge of the mattress.
"Nana...?" Saira reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the blanket.
The fleece was pulled back. Little Nana peeked out, her face flushed red, tears pouring down her cheeks like open faucets.
"Mom and Dad..." Nana choked out, her small voice breaking into a gut-wrenching wail. "They're dead!"
Before Saira could answer, the little girl lunged forward, throwing her tiny arms around Saira's neck and burying her face into the cold silver armor.
Saira wrapped her arms tightly around the child, pulling her close and resting her chin against Nana's brown hair.
"I got you," Saira whispered, her own throat tight with unshed tears. "I got you, Nana. Don't worry... I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you. Okay?"
"Schi-Schi..." Nana sobbed softly, using her favorite nickname for the Sword God.
"Shh... I'm here. I've got you."
For twenty long, silent minutes, Saira held the little girl, rocking her back and forth as the frantic, panicked sobs gradually slowed into shallow, exhausted breathing. Blessed by the comforting warmth of the Sword God's presence, Nana finally drifted off into a deep, trauma-induced sleep.
The moment Nana slipped into sleep, the tender warmth in Saira's eyes vanished entirely, replaced by rage. Her blood boiled in her veins.
She gently laid the girl down, tucking the blanket around her shoulders, before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door without a sound.
The brown-haired guard stood waiting in the corridor.
"What happened," Saira demanded, her voice flat, cold, and deadlier than any blade. "Tell me exactly what happened."
Before addressing the High Knights—the rank directly beneath her own—she had needed to see Nana with her own eyes. But now, she needed answers.
The guard swallowed hard, straightening under her intimidating gaze. "I-it was... an assassin, Grandmaster. He managed to slit the Emperor's throat in his office and killed the Empress... Luckily, my squadmate John and I spotted the Princess as she was running away from him. John ordered me to take Nana outside and raise the alarm while he held the intruder off... John didn't make it. And somehow... the assassin vanished."
Saira's fists clenched so hard her silver gauntlets creaked.
An intruder...? How...? How could anyone slip past my mana sensing? I should have felt him... I could have stopped this...
"How...?" she whispered aloud, her soul drowning in bitter guilt.
"It's not your fault, Saira."
A deep, heavy voice echoed down the stone corridor.
A tall, formidable man walked toward them. He wore dark, ominous black armor etched with intricate crimson runes. His flat-top brown hair was streaked with subtle silver strands, matching a neatly trimmed beard on his chin.
It was the commander of the High Knights—Klapito Argus III. Known to the realm as Master Argus, a warrior possessing the strength of a Sword Emperor.
"Argus..." Saira turned to him. "How did this happen?"
"That is what we are still trying to determine," Argus said grimly, shaking his head.
Saira turned back to the guard who had carried Nana to safety. "You. What is your name?"
The young human snapped to attention. "G-Golad, Grandmaster! A Low-Sword Saint."
"Golad, guard this door with your life," Saira ordered smoothly. "I will have a detachment of elite knights assigned here immediately to assist you."
Golad saluted sharply. "Yes, Grandmaster!"
Saira gave a sharp nod, then turned to Argus. "Lead the way."
***
Inside the High Knight Commander's private office, the atmosphere was tense.
"This can't be!" Saira breathed, horror dawning on her face.
"Unfortunately, those were the official reports brought to me," Argus sighed, leaning over his heavy wooden desk. "And I saw him with my own eyes. His face, his rose-tinted eyes, his short blue hair... He looked exactly like Thorskil."
Saira's hands balled into tight fists at her sides. "The way you described his fighting style... that is not Thorskil. It's an imposter!"
"That was my conclusion as well," Argus agreed, his brow furrowing,
"We must also consider that this killer possesses the martial ability to fight a Sword King-level knight and cut him down with ease. When I confronted him myself, he fled the moment I pressed him into a corner. He pulled out a parchment inscribed with a magic glyph and vanished instantaneously."
"High-tier alchemy," Saira noted coldly. "Instantaneous spatial translocation."
"Indeed..." Argus gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the edge of his desk. "We both know that man was not Thorskil. But... the dukes, the lords, and the majority of the knights... Before we could even establish a proper chain of command after declaring the Emperor dead, word spread. The nobles already believe Thorskil is the traitor."
Saira clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white, her blue eyes blazing with a dangerous, helpless fury.
BANG!
She slammed her fist onto the heavy desk, the force fracturing the polished wood down the center as she leaned across, her white aura flaring with terrifying intensity.
"No!" Saira snarled, her voice shaking with raw indignance. "We cannot brand Thorskil a national terrorist! We cannot put an international bounty on his head! He didn't do this! He doesn't deserve to be hunted like a rabid animal!"
"Our hands are tied, Saira," Argus said, letting out a long, heavy sigh that carried the weight of a dying empire. He sounded entirely exhausted. "The Archduke himself, Dominic Manor, moved faster than we could. Taking advantage of the sudden power vacuum, he convened the emergency council and issued the warrant under royal decree. In a crisis like this, the nobles don't care about truth, investigation, or magic glyphs—they want a scapegoat to restore a false sense of control. And Thorskil's face is the one stamped on everyone's terror."
Saira gritted her teeth, her chest heaving as the cold, political reality settled in.
"They are sending soldiers into a slaughter," she whispered, her voice dropping. "If they try to corner him... many will die, Argus. Thousands will die."
"I know," Argus murmured grimly, leaning back into his chair and staring up at the stone ceiling. "And it gets worse. Archduke Dominic placed a king's ransom on Thorskil's head and formally requested the intervention of the Calamity Forces."
Saira's breath hitched. "The Calamity Forces...? No..!"
"Beast Emperor Keltre and Zombra, the Wizard God, have already accepted the bounty," Argus confirmed, his face drawn in deep, dark lines. "The rest haven't declared their stance yet, but it's only a matter of days before the entire continent picks a side."
Saira pulled back slowly, her hand sliding off the cracked desk as an icy dread washed over her entire body.
The real assassin was still out there, free to strike again. The Emperor and Empress were dead, a traumatized five-year-old princess was sleeping down the hall, and now, the strongest figures on the continent were being manipulated into an all-out war against an innocent man.
Everything was going straight to hell.
[End]