Josh's piercing gaze lingered on the two remaining generals, his expression unreadable. He could feel their guilt hanging in the air like smoke — yes, they had killed, but not for the thrill of it, not out of cruelty like the others. They were men of war, doing what men of war were trained to do.
For a moment, he did nothing. He let them stew under the silence, let them taste the weight of their actions and the mercy they had not yet earned. Then, without another word, he turned away from them as though they no longer deserved his attention.
His voice rang out across the blood-soaked field as he called for Lola, Conrad Stan, and the rest of his generals.
"Follow me to the palace," Josh said, his tone even but carrying a quiet finality that silenced even the wind. "I have some business to take care of."
Lola, ever sharp, frowned as she mounted her horse.
"If it's to meet the emperor," she said cautiously, "he vanished when the war started. No one knows where he went."
Her words were less a correction and more a careful warning — she didn't want her commander wasting his strength chasing ghosts.
Josh only smiled, a small, dangerous curve of his lips.
"I know exactly where he is," he said softly, the certainty in his voice like the edge of a blade.
Then he turned to the captured enemy soldiers, his expression calm — almost gentle — as he spoke.
"I'm going to the emperor's palace," he told them. "I have some business to attend to. I dare any of you take a step out of this place, and you will find out why they call me the Black Dragon."
His words weren't shouted, but they hit like a hammer, cold and heavy. A chill went through the soldiers, many of them stiffening where they stood.
Josh didn't wait for a reply. He swung himself up onto a captured warhorse, his cloak catching the breeze like the wings of a shadow. Lola and the others followed suit, mounting the surrendered army's horses to keep up.
Granero, still standing among the conquered men, blinked as though waking from a dream. Then, without a word, he too found a horse. His heart pounded with something that felt close to reverence. He had seen many things on the battlefield, but Josh — the Black Dragon — was something else entirely. There was a majesty about him, a gravity that drew everyone in and made them want to follow.
As the group rode off toward the palace, the conquered soldiers remained frozen where they stood, not daring to breathe too loudly. Josh's aura still clung to the battlefield like a dark, crackling stormcloud, warning them that their lives were still on trial.
The journey to the palace took three days, but there were no ambushes, no defenses left to challenge them. The battle with the Scorpion empire had cleared so many paths, making it easy for them to return at a much faster speed. The enemy's might had been crushed; the empire itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the storm to reach its heart.
At last, the palace gates loomed before them — grand, towering, and silent, as though carved from grief itself. The air was heavy, thick with the stench of fear and the faint metallic tang of blood.
And there they were.
Standing just before the entrance, flanked by armored guards and shadowed figures, were the royal children.
Prince Jaden, the second prince — sharp-eyed, handsome, a serpent in human skin — stood at the center. His gaze was calm, too calm, a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
Beside him was Prince Michael, the sixth prince — his posture stiff and uneasy, his eyes darting nervously between Josh and Jaden as if searching for someone to tell him what to do.
Prince Rezbah lounged lazily at the side, wearing silks far too bright for the occasion. He twirled a dagger in his hand, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. The madness in his eyes suggested he was one bad day away from burning the palace down just for sport.
The princesses stood close by, a strange mix of elegance and venom.
Princess Jerusha, hot-tempered and dangerous, practically radiated seduction and rage in equal measure, her hand resting on her sword hilt as if daring anyone to challenge her.
Princess Karen, the hedonistic ninth princess, looked bored — yawning dramatically, as though Josh's arrival was a performance staged for her amusement.
Princess Judith stood apart from them, her good-natured demeanor a soft glow amid the malice of her siblings.
And at the farthest corner stood Princess Zemira, her calm, gentle eyes betraying the weight she carried. She was the only one who looked truly sorrowful, as if silently pleading with Josh not to do what he was about to do.
Behind them, soldiers lined the shadows like coiled snakes, assassins crouched in hidden alcoves, and archers lurked at every angle with drawn bows. The entire courtyard was a trap, every corner whispering danger.
Lola was the first to break the silence. She strode forward with fire in her voice.
"You worthless princes and princesses, you useless soldiers!" she barked. "When the empire needed your strength, none of you showed up. Now Prince Balek is dead. Yes, he was arrogant and full of himself, but at least he earned my respect by laying down his life in battle. The rest of you?" She spat on the ground. "You are all useless!"
Jaden's face remained perfectly unreadable as he stepped forward, his voice smooth and cold.
"Hmmm. You puny maid, just because Josh is here, you think you can speak without consequence?"
Even as he spoke, movement flickered at the edge of the courtyard. A shadow peeled away from the wall — a stealth soldier, silent as a whisper, rushing toward Lola with his blade raised for the kill.
He never made it.
Josh moved faster than sight. One moment he was standing still, the next he was in front of Lola, his hand already buried in the assassin's skull. There was a sickening crunch, then silence — the man's head collapsing like a ripe melon before his body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
Josh turned to Jaden, his voice as calm as a winter storm.
"That," he said, his eyes gleaming like molten gold, "was your last warning. The next time you try something like this, Jaden, I will wipe you — and every one of your little minions — from existence."
His words carried no theatrics, no raised tone — and that made them even more terrifying. The soldiers shifted uneasily. The assassins hidden in the shadows stiffened, gripping their weapons but daring not to move.
Jaden stepped out from the group, his jaw tightening, but Princess Zemira quickly reached for him, her voice soft and desperate.
"Jaden, stop this. Enough blood has been spilled—"
But Jaden slapped her hand aside without a second thought, his expression twisted with pride and defiance.
The courtyard grew even colder.