The grand hall, once filled with laughter and the gentle murmur of noble conversations, had turned into a cage of fear. The air trembled under the weight of unleashed powers, and the chandeliers above rattled as if they too were afraid to witness what was unfolding.
The nobles who only moments ago flaunted their pride now cowered in the shadows of the marble pillars, their jeweled fans and goblets forgotten on the ground. Some ladies clutched their skirts and prayed, while others dared not breathe, afraid that even the smallest sound would draw the wrath of either side. Lords pulled their sons and daughters behind them, their once-arrogant gazes now reduced to trembling horror.
The younger nobles, untested in war, whispered in disbelief: 'This isn't a gathering anymore… this is a battlefield.' Even seasoned generals, men who had seen battlefields drenched in blood, struggled to maintain their composure. They knew what was unfolding was beyond mortal combat — this was a clash of beings that transcended the limits of men.
At a distance, the First Prince, Belactus, who had once commanded every gaze with his power and presence, now stood apart from the chaos. His face had grown pale, his eyes restless, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness weighed upon him. He clenched his fists slightly, unable to steady the turmoil in his heart. 'I thought I could gain more support through the envoys and the nobles… but now, I do not even know if the kingdom itself will survive this night.' Belactus thought, despair and uncertainty consuming him.
He did not step forward. Instead, he remained frozen near the edge of the hall, his heart pounding with fear and humiliation. The weight of the chaos pressed down on him, and he wanted nothing more than to escape the raging storm unfolding before his eyes. Yet, no matter how much he tried to shrink away, he could feel the burning stares of the nobles piercing into his back, branding him as the source of this disaster.
'Why… why has this happened? I don't have enough power, and now my brother has angered the one person who can shake the very roots of the Royal Family.' he thought bitterly, his fingers tightening into trembling fists, the frustration of his own weakness cutting deeper than any blade.
He turned his gaze toward the Second Prince, Belactus, who now lay unconscious under the Mage's spell, bound in silence and stillness to keep him under control. Dozens of eyes lingered upon him — eyes filled with frustration, anger, and hatred. Each stare carried the weight of judgment, as though every noble present wished to rise and strike him down for pushing matters this far.
The Second Prince's future was shattered; there was no path for him to recover. His name, once spoken with expectation, now dripped only with scorn. 'He won't be able to come back from this… not after what has been done.' The only threads protecting him now were his mother's desperate defense, the fading support of his family, and the fragile shield of his princely title — shields that many already believed would soon be stripped away.
Meanwhile, Rubina stood with Lady Selphira and a small cluster of noblewomen, her face pale but her posture unshaken. She could feel the pull between duty, fear, and awe. 'This hall is no longer safe… Darkness is far too enraged. If this continues, no one will leave unharmed.'
The Emperor and Empress commanded the center, yet the true center of gravity in that hall was no longer the throne — it was Darkness herself, who stood tall, her aura swallowing every corner of the chamber.
When the Empress struck and Darkness revealed the Immortal Shield, the very floor cracked beneath the force. Nobles scrambled further into corners, their whispers now cries. A few fainted outright from the pressure, their retainers dragging them away like broken dolls.
And then, when Darkness's divine avatar emerged — seven heads, four arms, her true wrath incarnate — the hall itself seemed to bow before her. Many nobles collapsed to their knees without realizing it, trembling under the weight of her presence.
No one dared interfere.
No one dared speak.
All except the Emperor, the Empress… and the Spirit of Light, Liora.
"Darkness, you should not go too far. But I will forgive you if you stop now," the Emperor declared.
"You should kneel and beg for mercy, or you will die," the Empress said — and with those words, the last thread of restraint was broken.
"They are wrong. Please… forgive them," Liora said. Her words shocked everyone, but none more than the Emperor and Empress.
"Why, Spirit of Light…" the Emperor began, but his words were cut off by what came next.
"Shut up and kneel for all the wrongs you have done. I have listened and seen all of it, but I wanted to protect your dignity. However, it seems you are not worth protecting," the Spirit of Light, Liora, declared — and then she vanished.
Her absence sent shockwaves through the hall, but none felt it more bitterly than the Emperor and Empress, who stood frozen in betrayal.
They felt powerless. And so, in that moment, they kneeled.
"Darkness, please forgive me," the Emperor said through gritted teeth, bowing to the floor.
"You… I will never," the Empress spat.
"Shut up and kneel!" the Emperor commanded, his voice filled with fury and desperation.
Empress Vallena, against her pride and her wishes, lowered herself and said: "Darkness… forgive me for the mistakes I have made."
Darkness stood, her aura surging tenfold in an instant, ready to crush everyone present. She was not satisfied with their submission.
"Do you think I will believe you?" she asked coldly, her spear shining as her body exerted a pressure so fierce it forced both Emperor and Empress to the ground.
Suddenly, a ray of light appeared — invisible to mortal eyes. Darkness instinctively raised her spear and blocked it.
A man appeared. Blond hair, blue eyes, white garments glowing with authority.
'If not for my Perfect Spear, that attack would have pierced through my defense.' Darkness thought, her grip firming.
"Royal Guardian Alzedar," she said sharply, "why are you attacking me?"
Everyone was stunned. Just as they thought the chaos was about to end, it escalated further. Unlike Lord Zeldard, whose strength barely touched Rank 8, the Royal Guardian stood among the five strongest in the kingdom — a Rank 9, rivaling only the Sword Saint and the Grand Mage. The difference in power was like heaven and earth.
For Darkness, facing him head-on was peril itself.
"I hope you drop your weapon," Alzedar said calmly.
Darkness did not want to yield, her grip tightening on the spear as her aura surged in defiance. Yet suddenly, something shifted. A presence brushed against her senses—faint at first, but unmistakable. It was a presence she had not felt in a long time, one buried deep within the fragments of her past. Earlier, she had been too consumed by her fury to notice, her thoughts clouded by wrath and pride. But now… now it was clear. Different, altered by time, and yet undeniably familiar.
Memories stirred like fragments of a dream flashing before her eyes, fragments of moments she had long thought sealed away. Her breath caught, her chest tightening, and for the first time that night, her rage dimmed. She closed her eyes briefly, exhaling a slow, steadying breath as though drawing strength not from her power, but from that long-forgotten memory.
'Why are you here? Are you an envoy of Clastrus Kingdom? I have been waiting to see you.' she thought, when suddenly she noticed a girl in blue garments at the corner of the first-floor stairs. The girl gasped and fled the moment Darkness's gaze met her.
Seeing this, Darkness allowed her divine form to fade.
"I already have what I came for. There is nothing more to be angry about," she said — and with that, she turned and left, leaving the hall in stunned silence.