Sir Tirah Grey already knew this would end badly.
The head of the imperial knights rose from his desk with a slow exhale, fingers brushing the worn edge of the eyepatch that covered his left eye.
Reports of structural damage inside a reinforced training hall meant only one thing, the emperor's blood was involved. And where royal blood spilled, consequences followed.
He stepped into motion.
To the common eye, he vanished.
In the span of a heartbeat, Sir Tirah crossed the palace corridors, his boots touching stone so lightly they barely made a sound. He appeared outside the training hall just as another shockwave rippled through its doors.
The guards snapped to attention.
"Dismissed," he said flatly. "Send for two knights. Now."
They obeyed without question.
Sir Tirah pushed open the doors and surveyed the damage. Cracks webbed across the walls and floor, mana stones embedded within them glowing brightly as they struggled to keep the room intact. The air was thick with heat, dust, and lingering aggression.
Yuliana and Karik were still locked in combat.
Sir Tirah moved.
In a blur, he was between them. One massive hand seized Yuliana by the shoulder, the other caught Karik by the throat. With a sharp twist of his body, he tore them apart and hurled them to opposite ends of the room. Both hit the walls hard enough to make the mana stones flare in alarm.
They rose instantly,snarling, furious, until they saw him.
Their rage died where it stood.
Sir Tirah straightened, his presence heavy and unyielding. "Enough."
The knights arrived moments later.
"Escort them to the main castle," he ordered.
"And inform the Emperor."
The throne room of the Reyhaz Empire was silent.
Reinhardt Reyhaz sat upon his throne, massive frame relaxed as if carved from stone. His presence alone pressed down on the chamber, an invisible weight that made breathing feel optional. Lightning crackled faintly beneath his skin, restrained only by his will.
Before him knelt his children.
Bruises marked their faces, already healing, dragon blood knitting flesh back together.
Neither spoke.
No one dared.
Finally, the Emperor chuckled.
"I do enjoy a good fight," he said pleasantly. "Two warriors struggling to outmaneuver one another. Disputes are healthy. They lead to conflict. Conflict leads to war."
His smile widened.
"And war," he finished, "is delightful."
No one looked at him. Even the knights kept their eyes lowered, stepping subtly farther away from the siblings. Only Sir Tirah remained where he was, standing straight, hands clasped behind his back.
Reinhardt's gaze flicked to him.
"A fight between ants is hardly entertaining," the Emperor continued. "Wouldn't you agree, Tirah?"
Sir Tirah inclined his head slightly. "Strength determines worth," he replied evenly.
Reinhardt grinned. "Exactly."
The Emperor stood.
The air moved.
Before Yuliana or Karik could react, the world tilted violently. Their feet left the ground as iron fingers closed around their throats. Reinhardt lifted them effortlessly, one in each hand, his expression shifting from amusement to disgust.
They clawed at his arms.
It meant nothing.
With a casual flick of his wrist, Reinhardt hurled Karik across the room.
Karik slammed into the far wall with a wet, bone-crushing sound. The impact shattered stone despite the mana reinforcement. He collapsed to the floor in a heap, blood spilling freely from his mouth as shattered ribs pierced flesh.
For a moment, he did not move.
Then, he coughed.
Karik's eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Pain consumed him, but through the haze he saw it.
Yuliana.
She was still in their father's grasp.
Still glaring.
Still fighting.
Fear finally bloomed in Karik's chest, not for himself, but for her. His vision darkened as realization struck.
She's not bowing…
Unconsciousness reclaimed him.
Reinhardt turned his attention back to Yuliana.
His grip tightened.
"And you," he said coldly. "Who are you to meet my gaze?"
His aura erupted.
The pressure was immediate and catastrophic. The throne room groaned as cracks split the floor and walls, mana stones screaming as they tried to compensate.
Knights collapsed where they stood, blood trickling from their noses before they lost consciousness.
Yuliana's body convulsed.
Every vein felt ready to burst. Her bones screamed under the weight of his presence. Blood poured from her eyes, nose, mouth, splattering onto the floor beneath her dangling feet.
Yet she did not look away.
I will never bow, she roared silently. Not to you. Not to anyone.
"Ne…ver," she croaked aloud.
Reinhardt's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting," he mused. "If you possessed even a shred of worthwhile power, I might have found you amusing."
His gaze flicked toward Karik's broken body.
"At least you have pride. That one?" He scoffed. "He survives only because his mother was useful."
Sir Tirah's jaw tightened imperceptibly.
Reinhardt released his aura slightly, then lightning crawled across his hands.
Yuliana screamed.
Heat tore through her veins as if her blood were boiling. Her dark skin charred under the searing current, the blood coating her body evaporating in hissing bursts of steam. Her voice broke, pain dragging her toward oblivion.
Still, she clung to consciousness.
Finally, the Emperor released her.
He slammed Yuliana into the ground with crushing force. The floor spider-webbed beneath her, ribs snapping as she gasped weakly, barely aware of the world anymore.
Reinhardt turned away.
"Tirah," he said casually, already walking off.
"Do not interfere."
Sir Tirah did not move.
He watched the Emperor leave. Watched the ruined children on the floor. His expression was conflicted.
Strength meant everything in this world and if they could not gain the Emperor's approval, they would have to suffer the consequences.
The oppressive pressure lingered long after the Emperor's departure.
One by one, the knights began to stir.
Groans echoed through the throne room as bodies shifted against cracked stone. Some soldiers pushed themselves upright, hands trembling, blood still drying beneath their noses.
Others remained kneeling where they had fallen, unwilling, or unable, to rise fully.
A dragon soldier in human form exhaled shakily, lightning scars faintly glowing beneath his skin.
"…Unbelievable," he muttered. "That wasn't even his full aura."
Nearby, a lizard kin knight, broad, fully scaled, his tail coiled tightly against the floor, stared at the shattered throne room in open awe. The reinforced stone had buckled.
Mana stones lay dim and cracked, drained far beyond their limits.
"To think," the lizard kin whispered, reverence thick in his voice, "that we serve a dragon who can bend reality by simply standing…"
Another dragonkin, scales faintly visible along his jaw despite his human guise, swallowed hard.
None of them spoke of the children lying broken on the floor.
None of them dared.
Sir Tirah Grey finally turned from the shattered hall, his expression once more carved into disciplined calm. Behind him, the soldiers remained frozen in reverent silence, dragons and lizard kin alike, each of them reminded of the same truth.
There was strength.
And then there was the Emperor.