The hall had barely settled from the earlier chaos when Atem's presence rippled through the room, an invisible but undeniable force pressing down on every councilor and attendant.
Prince Elric's confidence faltered ever so slightly. He still stood tall, but now his gaze wavered as if the room itself were reminding him of his place. Atem's amber eyes, sharp and unyielding, swept over him, and even without a word, the air seemed to tighten around the prince.
"Silence," Atem said, his voice calm, deliberate, yet carrying the weight of a storm about to break. "I do not tolerate disrespect in my presence. You may call yourselves princes, counts, or knights, but here, in my presence, your titles mean nothing if your actions defy justice."
Gavan, who had tried to position himself as Elric's enforcer, took a step forward. Atem's gaze landed on him, and a single, subtle gesture—a wave of the hand—froze the man mid-motion. Gavan's body locked rigid, his breathing ragged, and every nerve felt the sharp edge of Atem's authority pressing him into submission.
"Do you feel that?" Atem asked softly, though his voice carried across the chamber like thunder. "That is the weight of Eterna itself, the consequence of arrogance, the cost of ignoring my presence. I will not needlessly harm you… if you respect your place. But defy me, and you will understand the limits of your existence."
The councilors shifted nervously. They had witnessed Atem's judgment before, the cold, decisive end he brought to those foolish enough to provoke him. No one dared to raise their voice or act rashly; every whisper of disobedience was suffocated by the unshakable aura he radiated.
Elric swallowed, trying to maintain composure, but his voice trembled. "Y-you cannot—"
Atem's hand rose, just slightly. The invisible force coiled tighter, and the young prince stumbled back, his confidence crumbling. "I can," Atem said. "And I will, if provoked. Let this be a lesson: arrogance is not power, it is a path to ruin."
Hinata, standing beside Atem, glanced at the council. "The vote proceeds under the guidance of the third party, as promised. All actions contrary to justice will be recorded, and those responsible will answer directly to Atem-sama."
Atem's tone left no room for misinterpretation.
The councilors, even those previously swayed by bribery or intimidation, immediately straightened, their expressions wary. Some muttered apologies, others simply bowed, recognizing that the previous chaos had ended with a clear victor: Atem himself.
Elric's lips parted, ready to retort, but Atem did not give him the chance. The hall's temperature seemed to drop, a subtle manifestation of Atem's immense power. The prince's bravado shrank under that invisible weight.
"You will not speak unless given permission," Atem said, voice low and commanding. "Your actions today—intruding, attempting to manipulate votes, threatening others—these are the actions of fools. I do not forgive fools."
A heavy silence fell. Even Gavan, still rigid under Atem's subtle control, dared not move. Reiner, the supposedly strongest knight, shifted uncomfortably, realizing that his strength alone was meaningless here. Atem's previous actions—freezing the large, disrespectful intruder, demonstrating pain and dominance without unnecessary cruelty—had left an indelible mark. No one wanted to be next.
Elric finally whispered, almost to himself, "W-what… what are you?"
Atem's amber eyes locked onto him. "I am the ruler of Eterna, the one who holds the fate of this council in his hand. I am the authority that even kings must respect. Step lightly, Prince Elric. The consequences of your next words or actions will be absolute."
Hinata added, her voice steady but piercing, "Consider yourselves warned. The council will proceed fairly, and any interference from here on will be met with the full force of Atem-sama's judgment."
The councilors, now fully aware of the stakes, immediately began to shift in alignment. Those previously swayed by bribes or mental influence hesitated, glanced at one another, and slowly moved to follow the path of justice. Atem's presence demanded fairness—not by law alone, but by the undeniable force of his authority.
Solarys' calm voice resonated in Atem's mind: «All councilors now recognize the consequence of defiance. Alignment restored. No further obstruction expected.»
Atem's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. The hall, once on the brink of chaos, now bent to his will, not through fear alone, but through the clarity of who truly held power.
Yet, as always, Atem remained vigilant. He knew that fools and liars still lingered in every corner. Some would test the limits, some would challenge authority when least expected. And when they did…
«Report. Killing intent detected, directed towards the individual 'Elric.'»
Shit.
My Magic Perception flared instantly. Somewhere over two kilometers away, a wave of lethal intent surged toward the council chamber. Someone—an assassin—was targeting Elric in the middle of this conference.
From that distance? Preposterous. But I could see it clearly.
Activating Thought Acceleration, I locked onto the source. A wild-looking red-haired woman crouched across the city streets, gripping a small black iron block—a pistol.
Huh. A pistol, two kilometers away?
«Answer. Weapon: Walther P99. Compact, light, and precise. Effective range: sixty meters.»
—Useless information. Even if it were precise, this distance alone made her threat laughable.
The council building—situated in the heart of Ingracia—was fortified. Magic-resistant wards reinforced its walls, and trained guards patrolled every entrance. No ordinary attack, or even magic-enhanced projectile, could penetrate it from such a distance.
Even if the bullet obeyed standard physics, gravity and air resistance would slow it. Sure, someone could strengthen it magically—but she couldn't see the target. Not with all the walls, wards, and obstacles in between.
Could she be bending space?
Before I could decide, the woman fired.
The bullet left the chamber, streaking impossibly fast through the air—but then, reality itself warped. A dark rift tore open, swallowing the projectile.
—Eh?
«Report. Spatial manipulation detected. Skill: 'Spatial Connection.'»
The assassin had linked her position to Elric's location, ignoring distance, obstacles, and wards. The bullet rematerialized just fifty centimeters from his head, traveling at over four hundred meters per second.
It was inevitable.
I didn't hesitate. With calm authority, I drew from my Spirit Deck.
"Dark Hole!" I declared.
A monstrous vortex of dark energy erupted from the card, tearing through the space in front of Elric. The bullet vanished as it entered the maelstrom, shredded by the pure destructive power of the card. The void collapsed silently, leaving only the faint shimmer of dissipating energy.
"…!! Are you okay?"
Hinata's face drained of color as she rushed forward. The captain of the Apostles of Verte looked on, incredulous, while checking that Elric remained unharmed.
Elric himself froze, bewildered. The councilors around the room were shaken—some grasped the reality of what had happened. High-level magic and the raw authority in my aura left no doubt.
The building's alarms rang. Wards had detected the energy surge from Dark Hole, signaling a threat—but the danger had already passed.
I surveyed the room calmly. My presence alone silenced the murmurs, and the councilors instinctively understood: any further attempts at assassination, any misstep, would be met with swift judgment.
"I protect the council… and I punish anyone who defies it," I said, my voice cutting through the tension. Authority did not need explanation; it was felt.
Several councilors bowed instinctively. Others paled, realizing the depth of their naivety in underestimating the threat—and me.
Elric stammered. "Y-you… saved me?"
I inclined my head slightly. "This chamber is under my protection. Any who attempt harm will be erased."
Hinata remained at my side, ready to act, while the Apostles of Verte reinforced the council's perimeter. The red-haired woman, if she survived, would not have a chance to strike again—not today, not ever.
The council meeting, however, could not continue in the wake of such chaos. Alarms echoed, guards tightened control, and the councilors were shaken.