Chapter 48: Judgement
Judith stepped into the center of the chamber, her crimson robe fanning across the marble like blood spreading through snow. A hush rolled over the courtroom—slow, heavy, inevitable. She bowed once, crisp and exact. When she straightened, every gaze in the hall snapped toward her as though pulled by a string.
"Your Honors," she said, voice calm enough to slice through the air, "my testimony is essential."
Chief Judge Jamison's face pinched, the lines around his eyes tightening like drawn wire. The Chief Judge leaned forward, pupils sharpening. "Vice President Judith," he said carefully, "your presence is… unexpected. What could you possibly add to this case?"
Judith slipped her hand into her spatial ring—not the hurried reach of a desperate witness, but the smooth movement of someone who had worn power like a second skin for years. She withdrew a small vial. The glass caught the torchlight, stirring a faint swirl inside like trapped moonlight.
"This is an Affinity Potion," she said, raising it for all to see. "You, more than anyone, understand its significance."
Electric shock flickered across the judges' faces. The gallery stiffened. Even Prime Minister Gavin's veneer cracked, a single twitch betraying him.
Jamison's voice clipped. "How did you obtain that? Do you recognize the charge you're implying? The Wizards Act of 845—illegal mainland imports—death or life imprisonment."
Judith smiled, gentle as a knife hidden under silk. "I never said it came from the mainland."
She let her gaze drift across the room—slow, deliberate, unsettlingly confident.
"I only require five volunteers. A simple demonstration. No harm to anyone."
Jamison slammed his gavel. "This is a court, not your laboratory. Sit down before you—"
Judith released a soft sound—half amused sigh, half lament. Her eyes flicked toward the Emperor's balcony. Ian sat unmoving, carved from cold wood, watching disaster as though it belonged to someone else's world.
Puppet emperor.
Five minutes—give him five minutes.
She inhaled to speak again—
—but the air in front of the VIP seats ripped open first.
Light tore downward like a blade, unfolding into a ten-meter illusion that bloomed midair. The room froze. Conversations died mid-breath as the projection brightened, painting a gloomy hall into existence.
Three silhouettes stepped into view.
Shirley.
Princess Athena.
Prime Minister Gavin.
A strangled noise escaped Gavin in the real courtroom. "A… a projection recorder? H-here? How—"
Whispers skittered through the crowd like panicked insects.
"Impossible."
"No one on this continent—"
"That's not magic—"
Raven did not join the whispers. He sat utterly still. Then, without ceremony, he brushed his fingers across his face. The Thomas disguise melted like mist. He removed the bowler hat and leaned back, eyes flat enough to freeze stone.
The illusion continued.
Gavin lounged on a sofa, speaking with the ease of someone discussing evening tea. He asked about a portrait. The inheritance bracelet. How he and the Emperor watched them—every step, every breath—through subtle illusions. He spoke of the Crown Prince's death. Of returning Athena and Shirley to the palace.
Princess Athena's resistance was sharp and brief—then she slumped, consciousness erased like chalk under water.
Darkness swallowed the vision.
When it returned, Gavin stood alone, smug in the quiet.
A hooded man bowed to him.
"Kill Raven Jorvot," the illusion-Gavin said. "And blame the Viser Kingdom."
The projection shattered into glittering ash and vanished.
Silence thickened over the courtroom like a closed tomb.
Jamison cleared his throat, but the sound came weak, terrified. "Due to… due to unforeseen disruptions, this court hereby postpones—"
The gavel struck, but its echo felt hollow—like someone trying to nail shut a coffin that refused to stay closed.
Raven laughed once, a sharp, lifeless breath. He rose. Every head turned.
He walked down the aisle with the slow, deliberate stride of a predator who no longer needed to hide its fangs.
"Is this the justice you're proud of, Chief Judge?" Raven asked. His voice rolled through the chamber like oil—dark, smooth, ugly. "A man given eyes to see truth, yet blind enough to execute innocents. And the Emperor…" His gaze slid to Ian. "My father. A puppet carved from fear."
Jamison barked, "Atrocious!" but Raven didn't break stride.
He stopped before Gavin.
The Prime Minister's face tried to mimic stone—cold, unaffected—but the edges betrayed him. Raven's stare cut into him like a blade pushing between ribs.
"And you," Raven murmured, "the saint of commoners… rotting inside like an old fox."
Gavin's smile sharpened. Venom in human form. "Mind your tongue, boy. Kneel, apologize, return to the palace, and maybe—"
Pressure suddenly thickened in the room. Raven felt it press against his chest, heavy as a falling boulder. He braced, letting the invisible weight settle.
"An empire deserves an Emperor," he said softly. "Not clowns twisting law for convenience."
His words dropped like sharpened iron.
"Clause-35: kidnapping or killing royal blood warrants execution. For ordering my death—and threatening my sister—I hereby sentence Prime Minister Gavin to immediate execution."
Gavin scoffed. "And how will you—"
"Do it, Zera," Raven said.
The courtroom didn't understand—not until it was over.
A thin, invisible strand of force shot from Raven's fingertip. A flicker. A whisper. A razor of cold.
It struck Gavin's chest.
The Prime Minister's expression collapsed—confusion, panic, then something deeper. He tried to grasp at memories as they dissolved. Victories. Secrets. Power. His name. All crumbled.
A thousand triumphs evaporated in a heartbeat.
Then he did too.
Ash drifted where a man had once stood.
Two seconds.
The courtroom forgot how to breathe.
Fear seeped through the benches like leaking poison. Jamison's hands trembled. The Emperor's face drained to wax. Even Judith—unyielding Judith—stood frozen, reverence and terror mixing in her eyes.
What did her teacher give him?
What power walks beside him?
Zera's voice brushed Raven's mind like a cold fingertip on a blade.
Use their fear. Warn them.
Raven turned back to Jamison. He stepped through Gavin's ashes.
"Declare my aunt innocent today," Raven said, each word slow and deliberate. "Treat this as a threat. This is the smallest piece of what I can do. If anything happens to her, meteors will fall on this city."
Jamison's lips fluttered like torn paper. "Y-Your Highness… I… I will reopen the case. She'll be freed."
Terror sharpened into obedience. The Judge's famed composure lay in ruins.
Raven didn't gloat. He simply watched until certainty took root—then turned away.
…
He walked toward Emperor Ian. Every step tightened the room, drew breath from lungs.
"Unlike you," Raven said, voice low, "I don't kill my family."
He stopped in front of Ian. Killing intent seeped into the air, subtle but suffocating.
"But if you hold my sister hostage—or try to marry her off for politics—I'll slit your throat myself."
He snatched the inheritance bracelet from Ian's wrist in a single motion.
"You can remain a puppet Emperor for now. When I return, I'll challenge for the throne."
Pressure rolled off him like a storm front. Not magic—something older, heavier.
People collapsed into bowed postures without meaning to.
Jamison gasped. "R-Ruler's Dominance!"
Even Raven blinked.
What?
A notification slid across his vision.
[Host has obtained 'Ruler's Domination.']
[A unique skill bestowed only upon true Sovereigns—recognized by the World Will itself. Fueled by the people's fear and respect.]
Raven exhaled, amused.
A useful gift indeed.
His eyes found Shirley in the crowd. She tried to smile, but shock trembled under her attempt.
"Advocate Lauren will handle the rest," Raven said gently. "Stay strong, Aunt."
Then he turned toward the exit.
Royal Guards tensed. The Emperor's fingers twitched, as if commanding an arrest.
But no one moved.
Who would dare, after watching Raven erase the Empire's strongest wizard in two seconds?
Only after Raven crossed the doors did the courtroom remember how to breathe.
And only after he vanished did anyone dare to straighten their spine.
Judith was the first to move.
The others still stared at the settling ash where Gavin had stood, but she snapped out of her shock, cloak brushing silently behind her as she slipped toward the exit.
I should help him escape before anyone regains their wits.
She vanished into the hall like a shadow leaving no footprint.
Inside the court, Emperor Ian remained frozen for a heartbeat longer, jaw clenched, face drained.
"What a rebellious child…" he whispered, the words brittle. His hands trembled once. "He overturned the Empire's history in a single afternoon."
The memory of Gavin's instantaneous disintegration made his skin crawl.
Elise is going to kill me for this…
He left next, expression grim and hollow.
…
Jamison forced himself upright. The Courtroom still felt like a cracked egg—its insides exposed. He cleared his throat, though the sound barely rose above a rasp.
"From the confessions of His Highness Raven," he began, voice wobbling until he steadied it with sheer will, "and the virtual projection displayed earlier… it is proven that the defendant neither kidnapped Sword Princess Athena nor poisoned Concubine Jeanne."
The hall listened in stunned silence.
"She instead acted with justice—saving the 66th Prince for years. With the evidence presented, this court declares the defendant, Lady Shirley, innocent."
He didn't allow Cedric to utter a word. He brought the gavel down hard enough to jar his wrist.
Case closed.
And with that, noise exploded—whispers, gasps, frantic murmurs—but even then people kept their voices low, as though speaking too loudly might summon Raven back into the room.
The gallery emptied fast.
…
Outside, chaos simmered beneath the surface. Reporters sprinted through the courtyard with cameras clutched to their chests. Nobles huddled in frightened circles, heads bowed as they whispered predictions of political collapse. Advocates shoved files into their bags, moving as if staying too long might be mistaken for treason.
Raven watched it all from an iron bench, Thomas's face resting over his own like an old mask.
Zera's warning still rang in his mind.
Someone had been scanning for him—something sharp, invasive, and persistent.
So he'd created a Past Self clone, slipped into Shadow Stealth, changed back into Thomas, and appeared a hundred meters away before settling on the bench.
Zera sighed in his head, the sound dry as gravel.
Reckless, lad. Judith must have blocked the worst of the scans. Don't reveal yourself as Prince Raven again—not until you're at least Rank-4.
'Understood.'
Raven leaned back and watched the flow of people leave the court gates, mind turning.
'I want Aunt Shirley with me in Giaris.'
Impossible in your current state. Judith's home is the safest place for her now.
Raven's brows twitched.
'I don't trust Judith completely… but she won't harm my aunt.'
His thoughts snagged briefly on the butler Philip—something about the man's presence had been wrong.
Zera continued, voice sharper now:
Your actions have cracked the Empire's political balance. You killed the Wizard Alliance's main pillar and handed hope to the Wizard Union. Nobles will feast on the chaos. And Judith—she'll be under pressure from all sides. You owe her at least a hand. She will become a key ally.
Raven tapped a finger against the cold metal bench, eyes half-closed.
'An asset, huh… I don't trust her, but she's strong enough to protect Aunt. I'll help her rise, but only on my terms.'
Movement from the court's entrance caught his eye.
People were fleeing now—reporters first, burdened by their heavy gear; then nobles and Wizards, escaping before the Royal Knights arrived with their endless questioning.
Raven left with them, passing the last security checkpoint with ease. He crossed the street and waited in the shade of a rusted lamp post.
Minutes later, two figures emerged from the court entrance.
Shirley.
And Lauren.
Shirley's injuries were obvious—arms bandaged with rough cloth, faded blood on her sleeves—but her smile glowed with quiet pride as she thanked Lauren again and again.
They climbed into a simple carriage. Wheels creaked as it pulled away.
Raven watched it until it disappeared at the bend. Relief uncoiled inside his chest—but it braided with determination, stronger than before.
The Empire will feel this. The Wizard Alliance's authority is gutted. The Royal Family's reputation is cracked. Wizard Union and nobles will rise from the pieces.
He exhaled once, turned away, and hailed a carriage toward Garden Street.
The storm had only begun.
…
Royal Palace — Emperor's Chambers
The fire crackled softly in Emperor Ian's study, but it did nothing to thaw his blood. He sat hunched over the glowing green bracelet in his palm—the twin-serpent sigil reflecting in his darkened eyes.
"What a mess…" he muttered. "Elise won't forgive me for this."
A knock interrupted him.
A tall figure in dark robes entered without waiting. "Your Majesty," Orion said, bowing. "The Royal Council demands an emergency session. They want answers—about Gavin's death… and the Prince."
Ian's breath left him in a defeated sigh.
"What answers should I give? That a concubine's child—born 'talentless'—killed our strongest wizard like blowing out a candle? That he declared rebellion in my Courtroom and walked out untouched?"
Orion didn't flinch. "We cannot show weakness. The nobles are restless. The Wizard Alliance will demand blood."
Ian stared into the fire, its reflection wobbling in his eyes.
"Raven has tied my hands. I cannot put a bounty on him—he'll turn the sky red if cornered again. But branding him rebellious…" He hesitated. "Calling him a traitor now would cause public outrage."
He rubbed his temples.
"For now, declare him a rebellious prince. Let the press choke on it. It's better than sparking riots."
Orion nodded once. "And Lady Shirley?"
"Leave her. Judith's involvement protects her more than any law. And as for Raven… find out who is backing him. No child gains that power alone."
…
Zenith Capital — Streets
The city burned with noise.
Newspapers slapped onto counters, messengers shouted headlines into the crowds, vendors stopped mid-sale to argue with customers about the rumors.
"The Dead Prince Returns!"
"Prime Minister Gavin—erased in a flash!"
"Rebellious Prince shames the Emperor!"
Legacy News rolled out new editions every thirty minutes. Crowds wrestled for copies. The central market erupted with debates—some horrified, some thrilled, some already calling Raven a hero.
…