As Shin Yato reached the royal chambers, he stopped before the king.
Elizabeth lay unconscious on the bed, her chest rising and falling faintly. The queen stood beside her, frozen, unable to look away. The room was eerily intact compared to the rest of the palace—yet the air inside felt heavier than anywhere else.
Shin Yato looked at them.
His gaze was calm. Empty.
"…Should we continue what we were doing?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
The king's body trembled violently. He turned his head toward his wife, then to his daughter lying motionless on the bed.
"Please… spare us all," he said, his voice breaking.
"We have already lost everything."
Shin Yato did not respond.
Silence swallowed the room.
No screams.
No footsteps.
Only the sound of heartbeats—loud, uneven, desperate.
Then Shin Yato spoke again.
"…Should I?" he asked, a small smile forming on his lips.
A moment passed.
"Okay."
The words struck like a blade.
The king and queen froze in shock, unable to believe what they had just heard.
The king fell to his knees.
He bowed his head deeply, his hands pressed to the floor.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Shin Yato tilted his head slightly.
"…On second thought," he said, a small smirk spreading across his face,
"I shouldn't."
After hearing those words, the king slammed his head against the floor again and again.
Bang.
Bang.
Blood stained the stone beneath him as he continued without stopping, his body shaking as he begged.
"Please… Great One," he cried, tears streaming down his face.
"Please spare us. Do not punish us for the sins of our ancestors."
The queen covered her mouth, unable to look away.
Shin Yato watched in silence.
Then—
He laughed.
A loud, echoing laugh that rang through the chamber and spread across the ruined palace — mocking everything that still struggled to live within it.
The king froze, his forehead pressed to the blood-soaked floor.
Shin Yato wiped a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye.
"I was just kidding," he said lightly.
"When I said I would kill you all today."
Hearing those words, both the king and the queen felt a rush of relief—followed immediately by fear.
They did not know whether it was real mercy…
or merely false hope.
The king kept his forehead pressed against the floor.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice still trembling with fear.
Shin Yato looked down at him.
"What is the name of this kingdom?" he asked calmly.
The king swallowed.
"Sphragidón Nekropolis," he replied in a soft, unsteady voice.
Shin Yato repeated the name slowly.
"Sphragidón Nekropolis, huh?"
"Yes," the king answered, his body shaking.
Shin Yato's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Then," he continued,
"what is your name, Your Majesty?"
The king did not lift his head.
"My name is Basileus Theron Sfragidopoulos," he said, still bowing deeply, his voice barely above a whisper.
Shin Yato repeated it.
"Sfragidopoulos…"
"…Sfragidopoulos."
His voice was cold.
And the room fell silent once more.
Then Shin Yato spoke.
"From today onward," he said calmly,
"you will no longer use Sfragidopoulos in your name."
The king flinched as if struck.
His ancient lineage — erased with a sentence.
The king stiffened.
"Yes—yes," he replied quickly, fear trembling in his voice, his forehead still pressed to the floor.
Silence swallowed the room once again.
The air felt heavy, as if even breathing required permission.
Then Shin Yato broke it.
"…Alright," he said casually.
"Now get me some new clothes. Mine have been in rags after centuries."
A smile appeared on his face—light, almost harmless.
The king did not question him.
He rose at once and hurried to obey.
And only then did the royal chamber realize —
The judgment had not ended.
It had only just begun.