That afternoon, the government went live.
Every screen across Dilrik switched to the same broadcast. Phones, televisions, and even the hospital waiting rooms fell into tense silence as Prime Minister George Willis appeared before the nation.
He stood behind a dark podium, flanked by the minister of defense and a line of armed soldiers in full military uniform. Behind them hung Dilrik's blue-and-gold flag, heavy and unmoving beneath the harsh lights of the conference hall. The atmosphere alone was enough to make hearts sink.
The prime minister adjusted the microphone slowly, his expression grave.
"Citizens of Dilrik…"
His voice carried through the nation with chill.
"Earlier this morning, the peace of our homes was shattered by the fire of Subrind's aggression. Though they claim their missiles were aimed only at military installations, it is our people, our fathers, our mothers, our children, who have paid the ultimate price."
"To every citizen mourning a loved one… to every family waiting outside emergency rooms… to those who woke today beneath rubble and smoke… I offer my deepest apologies."
"The state exists to protect its people. Today, we failed to shield every innocent life caught in the shadow of this attack. And that burden rests on my shoulders."
"But let me be absolutely clear to the regime of Subrind… You claim your strikes were tactical. Yet you launched them with complete disregard for the innocent lives surrounding those targets. By bringing war directly to civilian doorsteps, you have forfeited every right to mercy."
"To the people of Dilrik… grieve today. Hold your loved ones close tonight. Tomorrow, we would give Surbrind their answer. Surbrind mistook our restraint for weakness; they struck the heart of a nation that was still attempting to spare them. That restraint is now over."
The screen suddenly cut to footage of destroyed military compounds, burning structures, ambulances, and injured civilians being dragged through smoke.
Then the Prime Minister's final words echoed across the nation.
"By the time the sun rises… you will understand exactly what it means to awaken a lion."
The broadcast ended.
---
Far away in Subrind, Isaac watched the speech in complete silence.
The room around him barely resembled living quarters.
Thick metal plates reinforced every wall, the dull metal scarred with scratches and dents from years of impact. Bolts lined the corners. The ceiling lights were harsh and cold, giving the room the lifeless feeling of a prison cell rather than a prince's residence.
A narrow bed sat in one corner.
Beside it, thick, heavy black chains hung from the wall.
Near the opposite side of the room stood a study desk littered with files, maps, and books on every subject one could ever seek. A sleek laptop rested at its center, the screen still frozen on the image of the prime minister's speech.
There were no windows, no decoration, and no comfort.
From the outside, the structure resembled nothing more than a giant sealed steel container hidden deep within a restricted territory. Guards surrounded it day and night, every single one personally loyal to Isaac.
Not because they feared him, but because he had given every one of them reasons to give their undying loyalty to him.
The space was not a room; it was a cage.
And somehow, despite its grim appearance, everything inside remained meticulously organized. Not a speck of dust or a single object out of place.
Isaac slowly shut the laptop.
His expression remained unreadable throughout the entire broadcast; he didn't really care. All he wondered was why the king hadn't consulted him first this time.
The attack was stupid; he would have never approved it.
The sound of mechanical locks disengaging from outside broke the silence.
A second later, the thick iron door slid open with a heavy metallic groan.
King Draven Deema stepped inside.
The contrast between father and son was almost absurd.
Isaac looked like something sculpted with great care, while the king looked painfully ordinary.
He was short and potbellied; his face was weathered with age, and his spotted skin could barely be concealed beneath his expensive oils. Rings glittered across nearly every finger. A white-and-gold robe was draped over him so extravagantly, as though his wealth made him the perfect king.
"Good afternoon, Father," Isaac greeted calmly.
No warmth or affection a child should have on seeing his father.
The King either failed to notice or simply ignored it.
"You saw the news?" he asked immediately.
"I did."
Isaac leaned back slightly in his chair.
"And I will say this plainly. You made a big mistake."
The King frowned instantly.
"What do you mean mistake? The attack was necessary. Dilrik needed a warning."
"A warning?" Isaac repeated; his calmness somehow felt more insulting than anger.
"You used nearly half our long-range arsenal in a single retaliation strike."
The King's expression stiffened.
Isaac continued.
"Do you truly believe Dilrik feels intimidated right now?"
"They would be fools not to," the king snapped. "We struck multiple military sites in a single night."
Isaac sighed quietly.
It was the sigh of a tired man explaining mathematics to a child.
"You still do not understand the enemy you provoked."
The room fell silent.
"Dilrik has spent decades fighting wars," Isaac said. "Against stronger nations, smarter nations, ruthless nations, and careful nations, and they won every single time."
His eyes lifted toward his father.
"And yet you never thought to study why."
The king's confidence faltered, and uncertainty flickered across his face.
"Then… what do you suggest?" he asked cautiously.
Isaac looked at him for several seconds before speaking again.
"Why did you not consult me before making such a decision?"
Silence answered him.
The King looked away briefly.
The answer was because the king was afraid.
Afraid that Isaac would slip out of his control if he depended too much on him.
Afraid of the intelligence behind those emotionless eyes.
Afraid that one day Isaac would quietly take everything from him without lifting a sword.
The thought was ridiculous.
Isaac was locked away like an animal whose leash he had.
Wasn't he?
The King cleared his throat impatiently.
"Forget that. Do you have a solution or not?"
Without another word, Isaac reached toward the desk and picked up a folded document.
He handed it over.
"I wrote down every viable solution I could think of," he said. "Whether you use them correctly is another matter."
The King snatched the papers quickly and scanned through them.
Almost immediately, satisfaction spread across his face.
His posture relaxed with great relief.
"Excellent." He looked genuinely pleased now. "That's my boy."
He placed a hand on Isaac's shoulder briefly.
It should have looked fatherly.
Instead, it felt like a king praising a useful weapon.
Then he turned and walked away.
The massive steel door slid shut behind him with a heavy clang that echoed through the room.
Only then did Isaac's expression change.
Disgust darkened his gaze. Cold, sharp, and murderous.
For a fleeting second, the look in his eyes was far more frightening than the beast inside him.
Then slowly, he reached into his robe pocket and retrieved Sienna's delicate pink handkerchief.
His fingers tightened around the soft fabric before he lifted it toward his face. He inhaled the scent deeply, and the tension in his body eased little by little.
His eyes closed briefly.
Because right now, with irritation clawing violently beneath his skin, that scent was the only thing keeping the monster quiet.