Josh looked at the emperor and took another deliberate step forward, his boots striking the polished marble floor with the authority of a gavel. Each step rang out through the hall like the verdict of a court, sharp and final — a declaration that justice was drawing near.
Emperor Groa Aratat, once the man whose presence could silence an entire room, no longer seemed quite so imposing. His jeweled neck chain gleamed under the torches, but his face was pale, his jaw tight. Slowly, he rose from the ornate throne-like seat that had been his present source of comfort, his fingers curling around the hilt of the sword that symbolized his divine right to rule. The blade shimmered faintly, humming with the blessing of the gods — a reminder that it had only ever been given to emperors of great renown.
But even the holy blade could not hide the emperor's fear. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the hall like a cornered fox seeking an escape. Somewhere, deep within him, he was still hoping for a miracle — a hidden guard, an unseen ally, a twist of fate that might save him.
"Josh… Josh, my boy," Groa Aratat said at last, forcing a smile that did not reach his eyes. His voice trembled despite his efforts to sound calm. "You won't kill your old man over a few past mistakes, will you? Don't let some foolish prophecy cloud your judgment. I can make this right. I can name you crown prince tonight. You can have the throne, the empire — everything! Do you really have to be so… vengeful?"
Josh did not answer. His expression was unreadable, his fiery eyes were fixed on the emperor as though measuring his soul. He could see the desperation behind Groa's words. This was not the voice of a ruler making peace — this was the voice of a man buying time, grasping for any shred of leverage he could find.
Groa's smile faltered as Josh drew closer, his silence more damning than any accusation. Sweat began to bead on the emperor's brow. He licked his lips nervously and tried again, his tone more pleading this time.
"Josh, please… listen to reason. You and I — we don't have to be enemies. I will share power with you. Yes! We can be emperors together. Father and son — side by side. What do you say?"
At the edge of the hall, Just in front of the other entourages, Lola stood watching, her arms crossed, her expression dark. She shook her head slowly, a bitter thought rising in her mind. What a pitiful man. Once, he was feared across the empire. But he squandered his crown on women, wine, and whims. He killed when he pleased, took what was not his, and abandoned the people he swore to protect. And now, here he stands, groveling for his life. Killing him would feel less like vengeance and more like swatting a fly.
Her disgust was mirrored in the faces of the other twelve generals who also stood beside her and behind Josh. They had fought and bled for the empire, and now they saw their ruler for what he truly was — a coward dressed in silk. Even the two thousand soldiers filling the hall exchanged grim looks. The once-untouchable emperor was now a man stripped of dignity, and the weight of his sins pressed down on them all.
The silence grew heavy. Every eye was fixed on Josh, waiting for the judgment that would fall with his next move.
Before Josh Aratat could take another step, the palace roof shattered.
A deafening crack split the air, raining marble and dust everywhere, as a massive figure dropped from the heavens like a meteorite. The impact shook the entire hall, splintering the marble floor into a web of cracks. Dust and smoke swirled, obscuring the figure's outline — until he straightened and the sight of him came into view.
He stood directly in front of Emperor Groa Aratat, towering, motionless, and radiating a savage aura.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then, a slow, delighted laugh escaped Groa's lips. The fear that had been etched on his face melted away and was replaced by a grin — smug, mocking, triumphant.
"Ahhh… my son," the emperor said with renewed confidence, his voice booming through the hall. "Now you can die in peace. Don't worry — I will make sure your precious followers join you in the afterlife shortly after."
Groa's laugh grew bolder, almost maniacal.
"Oh, you must be wondering about my friend here. Allow me to introduce you…" The emperor gestured grandly at the beast beside him. "Have you heard of the Beasts of Havoc? Some call them god-blessed creatures — power beyond mortal comprehension. Even lesser gods fear them. Here, in the Nazare Blade Empire, there is no one who could challenge them."
Groa was practically giddy now, his words spilling out like a man drunk on victory.
"You see, when he was young, he had a dispute with his clansmen and was nearly killed. I saved his life. We made a pact — if ever I was in danger and called for him, he would come. I admit, when he didn't arrive immediately, I thought he'd abandoned me. But here he is, in the flesh, ready to fulfill his oath."
He turned back to Josh, smiling as though the game had already been won.
"So… tell me, my son," Groa sneered. "How do you wish to die?"
Josh's gaze drifted to the being standing between them. The creature's body was marked with strange, glowing patterns that pulsed faintly, like war paint. Three long, crimson scars ran down the left side of his face, and a thick nose ring gleamed under the torchlight. His pupils were vertical slits — not human at all — and his shoulders were broad, his every movement coiled with predatory grace.
A tiger, Josh realized. A tiger that had taken on human form.
The air seemed to grow heavier with the beast's presence. Every soldier in the hall tensed, their hands gripping their weapons. The thirteen generals exchanged wary glances, their instincts screaming at them that they were standing in the presence of a calamity.
Each Beast of Havoc was said to be born at the Third or Fourth Level of the Beyond Mortal Realm — a walking disaster that few mortals could ever hope to challenge. This one was no different, radiating strength at the Third Level. Even Groa Aratat himself, proud as he was, could not stand against this creature.
But Josh could.
He was at the Sixth Level of the Beyond Mortal Realm, far beyond both Groa and his summoned champion. And beyond that, he had mastered the fourth stage of the I AM KING Protocol — a divine power that granted him godlike might for a few minutes. In truth, even the Beasts of Havoc would be nothing more than prey before him.
No one knew this fact. No one except Josh himself.
And so he smiled.
At first, he had considered sparing Groa's life — perhaps imprisoning him, leaving him to stew in the shame of his actions. But the emperor, in his arrogance, had thrown away even that mercy.
Like a fool, Groa had chosen his own death.
Josh's firey eyes glowed faintly as he took another step forward, the cracks on the floor seeming to spread beneath his boots.