At the very heart of the sewers, where the filth and waste of the capital gathered most thickly, stood a place known among the dregs of society as,”The Rat Sanctuary.” The largest, dirtiest tavern in the entire sewer district loomed before them

“I must say something before we enter,” Andre said, stopping in front of the entrance and turning to the prince.

There were certain unspoken rules that governed the lives of the rats. This place, crawling with the wretched and dangerous, had its own laws, and Andre, who had once lived among them, knew them well. 

He feared the prince, unfamiliar with the underworld, might get himself stained with unnecessary blood.

“I will handle the filth, so Your Highness need not dirty your hands.”

A sincere vow from a loyal retainer.

No matter how cunning things were within the Steel Fortress, no matter how mad the prince might be, this sewer, this underbelly of the capital, was filthier than most could imagine, but before he could finish, 

“Creeeaaak!”

The prince had already pushed open the tavern doors wide and stepped inside without hesitation. Andre hurried after him, but it was too late. Dozens of eyes turned toward the prince.

The rats-vagrants, criminals, street bosses, and gutter survivors, all stared at the figure who had just entered their den.

The prince’s gaze swept across them calmly. Andre moved to block their stares but then froze. Something strange was happening.

This tavern was the kind of place where a naive young master could get stabbed for a glance, a twitch, or just being too clean. It was a place soaked in the stench of poverty, rot, and iron, and yet, as the prince walked in, 

“Silence.”

The atmosphere shifted. It tilted, subtly, imperceptibly, but surely, toward him. It was uncanny.

Andre had seen many strong men, many ruthless ones, and some who bore mysterious airs. But the man he served, the 11th Prince of the Empire, possessed a presence that was unlike any other.

It was as though nobility, true nobility, was etched into his very being. Wherever he stood, the world seemed to revolve around him. Not just in the Prince’s Palace. Not just in the inner sanctum of the Steel Fortress. Even here, in this pit of filth. He walked as though he belonged. The madness, the arrogance, the violence, none of it could obscure the inborn majesty.

Between the wary eyes gathered around him, 

“Step. Step. Step.”

Aziel, walked slowly and deliberately. His oversized robe dragged faintly, concealing much of his body, but could not hide the air of detached leisure, nor the weariness that dripped from him like perfume. 

When was the last time this tavern had ever been this quiet?

People should have been jeering, whispering, laughing. Instead, silence reigned.

The prince, unfazed, sat down with quiet dignity. He uttered just a single command.

“Bring me the finest you have.”

Several of the lowlifes around them inhaled sharply. Ordering the best in a place like this, surrounded by filth and rats? One could easily expect laughter or scorn.

But the voice that had spoken was laced with confidence, unwavering, absolute.

It created a strange illusion, as though they really were required to serve him a gourmet feast. Anywhere the prince sat became a throne. Anywhere he touched became his palace. 

Andre composed himself and sat beside his lord, his back straight. Soon, a staff member, his posture awkward and forced, approached and laid a plate on the table.

“Here you are, the finest dish we offer, sir. It’s, uh… still warm.”

It was laughable. Boiled meat, tough and barely cooked, accompanied by wilted vegetables charred into an unrecognizable pie, its contents unidentifiable, likely filled with the scraps of the alley.

Andre’s brows twitched. Just as he was about to demand real food, 

“Let’s eat.” The prince spoke first, casually lifting his knife and fork.

Andre swallowed his protests, and the prince began eating. Surprisingly… he didn’t grimace. He chewed, swallowed, and took the next bite as though this were just another meal. Even Andre, born of the streets, found the stench difficult to bear after years in the palace. But the prince? He didn’t so much as flinch.

It was… unexpected. Then, just as a moment of stillness had settled, 

“Hey. I heard you messed with one of our boys?”

A rough voice rang out. A gang of men had crept in through the back, now encircling the prince and his knight.

The Rats’ Sanctuary was returning to its usual state, the vagrants who’d been frozen in fear began to breathe again,eyes darting, greed swelling as they watched what they thought might become a fight. They licked their lips, waiting to loot whatever corpse hit the floor.

“You mess with us in the sewers, and you think you’ll walk away clean?”

One of the men stepped forward, slapping a hand down on the prince’s table, leaning in close. Before Andre could move…

“Crack.”

“AAAAARGH!”

The prince had calmly, cleanly, and wordlessly stabbed a fork deep into the man’s hand. It had been so smooth, so casual, it almost looked like he was spearing a piece of meat.

“You placed a filthy hand on my table. Leave it behind.”

He traced the man’s wrist with the knife in his other hand, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Tough meat.” And then, drawing his sword, he severed the man’s arm at the wrist.

Unnaturally, no blood spurted from the stump. Instead, there was the sound of meat sizzling on a hot pan. Screams filled the tavern, echoing with the crackle of cooking flesh, and still, 

“Innkeeper. Fork and knife.”

The prince sat there, calm, collected, unmoved. He resumed his meal. With the severed arm still resting on the table. Even Andre felt a chill run down his spine.

The waiter rushed forward, nearly tripping over himself as he brought more utensils. Then, 

“Who the hell is making noise in my sanctuary?!”

A thunderous voice boomed from the back.

The tavern’s owner, rarely seen, emerged at last.

“Which lunatics are causing…?!”

He stopped.

His expectations shattered. He had assumed it was just another noble brat getting mugged. But instead, the screaming one was one of his own.

The innkeeper, whose face resembled that of a rat, looked around, trying to understand what had happened. He tried to slink away quietly. But then the lowlifes began fleeing en masse, desperate to get away, rushing for the front door in chaos.

“The tavern is closed. Anyone who fought or helped them, subdue them all.”

At the prince’s command, Andre’s blade moved.

Violence erupted, but briefly.

Most of the thugs, already mentally crushed by Aziel’s presence, could barely resist. They were struck down, falling to the ground with groans and cries.

The tavern filled with the scent of blood, and still, the prince calmly, silently finished his meal.

Honestly,  ‘He could be the king of the underworld,’ Andre thought.

He didn’t need to interfere at all.

Of course, this was the same prince who had warned from the start, 

“Blood will be spilled.” Andre had worried in vain.

Aziel  turned his head, catching Andre’s eye. A slow grin spread across his lips.

As if to say,

 “So now you understand.”

Then, the prince finally spoke.His voice filled the room.

“Across this city, across the entire empire…” The vagrants and Andre tensed.

Would he now command a slaughter? Declare war? What was his true goal here?

“There is no one more insane than me. So don’t worry unnecessarily.”

“Silence.”

The thugs gaped.

Andre, however, responded instantly. “Yes, Your Highness!”

His eyes shimmered with strange, fervent light.

Yes. No one in this world is as mad as my lord! Who could dare compare themselves to the prince and his madness? He is the most insane man in the world! And Andre, his knight, was proud to follow him.

A prince who carried his madness with elegance even in the filthiest gutter!

Whether Aziel, understood this emotion or not, he looked past Andre, to the trembling lowlifes and the innkeeper. They met his crimson gaze, only then did they understand that he was serious.

That madness in his eyes wasn’t an act.

His hood cast his face in shadow, but his eyes glowed, bright and unflinching.         They understood instinctively, that this man kills easily.

His gaze was deeper and darker than even the cruelest underworld bosses. 

They trembled… The prince observed their fear with amusement. A broad grin stretched across his lips. He placed the half-smoked cigarette on the table.

“Night Sky.” He said it clearly.

A name few knew, the others looked confused. But Aziel, sure of himself, spoke again, 

“Tell me where the bastard who made this cursed thing is. I’ll spare whoever does. Even a small detail will do.” The word that followed struck like lightning, 

“Demon worshippers.” Gasps rippled through the room.

The prince’s gaze locked onto one man, trembling harder than the rest.Found him. “The tavern’s innkeeper”.

“Bring only the innkeeper. Douse the tavern in oil. As for the rest of you, go spread rumors. Embellish them however you like.”

The survivors fled quickly, then , 

“Spark”.

A flick of the prince’s finger, a single ember, and fire spread through the oil-soaked tavern. Amid the blaze, 

“No! No! Please, this place is everything I have!” The innkeeper sobbed.

The prince’s gaze turned to him. “Tell me where he is. If you don’t, you’ll burn along with everything you own.”

The sincerity of the threat made the man pale.

[Sub-fate: Fire burns fiercely. It desires to devour the demon.]
[Sub-fate: Fortune triggers. Skipping large portions of the destined sequence.]
[Sub-fate: Misfortune brings an early encounter with a major fate. A significant destiny stirs.]
[A narrow chance remains to avoid it, misfortune within fortune.]

The fate system screamed overhead as the man opened his mouth.                      Was this a fate to be avoided?

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Demons deserved nothing less than annihilation.                                                    Risk meant nothing.

Avoidance did not suit him.

[Fate Alteration Points converted into Mystery Points.]
[Investing Mystery into sub-fate: Fire. First heart of the Flame Emperor’s Core expands.]
[Control over flame increases. New attribute acquired: Hatred of Demons.]
[The closer you are to demonic energy, the stronger your output becomes.] [Sub-fate: Fire gains the power to confront major fate: Demon.]

The fire blazed higher.

“I’ll welcome it gladly.”

Eyes lit with fire, Aziel prepared to meet his next fate, 

with a heartbeat thundering in his ears.