The Emperor's voice rang out again, sharp and cutting through the heavy night air like a blade.
"Answer me, Akira. I know you are still lying." His tone grew lower, harsher, steeped in the fury,
"Every time you go against my orders… there's something else, something deeper…hidden behind your lies."
He turned swiftly, his robes rustling with the force of the motion, expecting defiance, perhaps silence. But what he saw instead made him pause.
Akira was no longer standing straight. His hand, once clenched in quiet restraint, now trembled violently at his side. The other clutched tightly at his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his robes as if trying to hold something in or hold something back.
His head was bowed, and though half his face remained hidden behind the mask, the part visible to the moonlight was twisted in pain. His lips quivered, and a faint groan escaped him raw, guttural, unbidden. His legs faltered, and he stumbled back a step, leaning heavily against the stone wall behind him, struggling to breathe.
"…Akira?"
The Emperor's voice lost its edge for the briefest second. His gaze sharpened, confusion flickering across his face followed quickly by something unreadable.
He took a step forward on instinct, one hand rising, reaching toward him.
Then it froze midair.
His fingers curled back into a fist, the cold mask returning to his face. He turned away sharply, jaw clenched, commanding himself to ignore it. To not be swayed. To not be moved.
But that sound.
Another groan, Choked, pained. It wasn't something which sounded bearable. The Emperor's hands trembled ever so slightly at his sides.
And then—crack!
The wine glass shattered in his hand, crimson liquid spilling between his fingers, staining the sleeve of his robe like blood.
He couldn't ignore it anymore.
Without a word, he stormed forward glass shards falling from his palm as he crossed the marble floor in quick, purposeful strides straight toward the crumbling prince.
"Akira, what's with you?"
The Emperor's voice, still stern, was laced now with something rarer—concern. He moved closer, but the prince didn't answer.
Akira's body trembled uncontrollably. His hand pressed harder against his chest, fingers clawing through the layers of silk and flesh like he was trying to rip something out.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed—then widened in alarm. There were bloodstains beneath Akira's fingernails.
Without hesitation, the Emperor seized that hand, pulling it harshly away.
"Stop it. What are you—"
But before he could finish, Akira suddenly lurched forward.
Cough
A violent shudder ran through him as he spat out a thick stream of blood, dark and heavy, splashing onto the polished marble beneath them. His body convulsed, knees buckling, as if the force of it had nearly broken him.
"What's wrong with you all of a sudden?!" The Emperor knelt down beside him, gripping his shoulders with both hands, shaking him violently with a force.
"Akira! Answer me!"
The prince raised his head, His trembling lips moved slowly, whispering something the Emperor could barely make out.
"Let me go…"
"What?"The Emperor leaned closer, his brows drawn.
"I can't hear you—"
"LET ME GO!!"
The voice ripped through the night like a thunderclap, filled with pain, rage, and something far more broken.
The Emperor froze. His hands dropped away.
For a moment, he simply stared at his son, at the blood, at the trembling, at the unbearable fire behind his current state.
And then, Akira stood.
Wobbling at first, but steadying quickly fuelled by The Emperor's eyes widened slightly then narrowed in fury, his jaw clenching so tightly it looked like it might crack. something cold and unrelenting. He turned his back and began to walk away,
The Emperor's eyes widened slightly then narrowed in fury, his jaw clenching so tightly it looked like it might crack. Without wasting a moment, he stormed after the retreating figure, his voice ringing through the halls like thunder.
"Akira! Stop! Where do you think you're going? I said stop!"
But the prince didn't slow. He didn't turn. His steps only quickened, long and fierce, blood still dripping faintly in his corner of lips.
"Guards! Stop him!" the Emperor barked.
The guards stationed along the hallway tensed, startled. They have seen their ruler this enraged before but had never seen their prince like this, who usually composed and reserved, now burning with something wild and unrestrained.
Still, they obeyed. Steel rang faintly as they stepped forward, positioning themselves in front of the prince, their blades drawn though trembling.
The Crown Prince came to a halt.
"Move."
One word, Cold and cutting.
The guards faltered. Their knees nearly gave way from the force behind his voice but duty held them rooted to the spot, barely.
Before anything else could unfold, the Emperor reached him, grabbing his arm roughly and turning him around.
"What's wrong with you?!" he shouted, his voice a mixture of fury and something dangerously close to panic.
"Leave me! I need to go!" Akira shouted, his voice raw shaking with something deeper than rage. The Emperor's grip tightened.
"Go where?!" he snapped.
Then, his next words fell like a blade.
"Are you going to take another life again? Like you took hers?!"
The hallway fell into complete silence. The words struck like thunder.
Akira froze. Every muscle in his body tensed and then collapsed. His struggle ceased.
His fists unclenched.
He stood there, motionless. His head slowly drooped, hanging low like the weight of memory had snapped his spine. His mind was a storm with shattered images, flashes of those memories And his heart it pulsed with such force it felt like it might rip itself free.
The Emperor said nothing more. He only stepped closer, grabbed him firmly again and hissed beneath his breath:
"Come with me."
And he dragged the prince down the corridor, away from the stunned guards who stood frozen swords lowered, too stunned to speak, unable to process what they'd just heard. Only the echoes of their steps remained, heavy and grim, swallowed by the vast silence of the palace.
Daita knelt beside Astra, his eyes dark with worry as he watched the sickly purple hue spread rapidly across her skin. Her breath was shallow, her body trembling in pain.
He extended a trembling hand, ready to channel his spiritual energy to halt the venom's flow. But he stopped, frozen mid-air.
A cold realization washed over him.
He had nothing left.
Every drop of mana, every trace of power he had absorbed… He had poured it all into that final strike.There was nothing left to draw from. Nothing to give.
His hand dropped to his side, defeated.
A slow, bitter sigh escaped him.
His gaze shifted to the side. To the pale, delicate flower that swayed gently beside them, glowing faintly under the moonlight.
His throat tightened.
"…Should I use it?" he murmured, barely above a whisper. "This flower…" His fingers hovered near it, unsure torn between desperation and hesitation.
"Is it worth the cost…?"
Astra let out another low, pained groan weak, but sharp enough to cut through Daita's hesitation like a blade. His eyes snapped back to her face.
She had taken that sting for him.
He clenched his fists, teeth gritting as he gave his head a quick shake, clearing the fog of doubt.
"Of course it's worth the cost…" he whispered, voice steadier now.
Without another moment of hesitation, he turned to the flower. Its soft golden glow pulsed faintly, as if aware of its own rarity its own price.
Daita reached out and gently plucked a single golden petal.
The moment he did, the rest of the flower withered in an instant. The stem shriveled, the leaves crumbled, and the bloom turned to ash, swept away by the night wind like it had never existed.
Daita held the glowing petal carefully between his fingers and leaned over Astra.
"Please," he breathed, placing the petal directly against the darkened sting on her side.
At once, the petal reacted Its golden hue began to dim as it absorbed the venom hungrily.
Black veins slithered through it like ink bleeding into silk. Astra's body trembled as the corruption was slowly pulled from her.
Daita held his breath, watching as the unnatural purple tint on her skin began to recede…
Little by little, the color of life returned to her cheeks.
"…It's working," he murmured, voice soft.
———-
The night wind was quieter now. As they now stood before the familiar garden statue —the same serene figure of the woman carved in pale marble, her expression soft. The moonlight bathed her blindfolded face, casting gentle shadows that rippled across the stone.
The Emperor's breath was uneven, his composure cracking at last.
"Akira… just what happened to you?" His voice trembled with restrained anger.
"Were you even in your senses back there?"
The prince didn't speak.
He stood still, facing the marble figure, his shoulders slightly hunched. The statue's presence seemed to mute everything else. The night. The palace. The accusations.
"Answer me!" The Emperor's voice rose again. "Just what made you trigger—" he cut himself off, his eyes narrowing as suspicion sharpened his voice. "Akira… don't tell me the reason behind this is—"
"No," the prince said quietly, his voice dry. "It's not the reason."
The Emperor exhaled, relief flickering across his features. But it was short-lived.
"But…" Akira continued, "…the awakening has started."
The words dropped like a hammer making The Emperor froze.
"W-What…?"
Akira finally turned toward him, his tone grave. "And it was the main reason why I had to unseal my spiritual power by going against your orders…The gate has cracks again and more importantly, the one in the seal is slowly awakening."
The Emperor's breath caught. His eyes widened in horror. "It can't be! It can't be true."
He took a sharp step back, voice rising with dread.
"It's already a problem if there's a crack in the gate—but if it's the awakening… then—then it's a disaster!"