As the Northerners retreated with uneasy, complex gazes flickering in Aziel’s direction … 

“Have you all been well?”
Aziel asked, a brilliant smile playing across his face, as he turned toward the knight and mage corps.

“We greet His Highness Aziel, of the Azure Wing Knights.”
“We have awaited you. The 3rd Combat Mage Division pays its respects to the Prince.”

Their replies were stiff and formal, carefully composed. Whatever dissatisfaction they had once harbored was now buried deep within, sealed away behind rigid courtesy.  But what were they to do? Aziel had no such intention of leaving anything buried.    He didn’t return their greetings. Instead, he responded with silence, heavy, pressing silence. That silence quickly bred unrest. A slow, sardonic smile curled across his lips. And then, casually, he threw a question like a dagger:

“How much were you paid?” A tremor ran through the gathering.

“…”

No one had expected such a blunt, merciless stab. The knights and mages fidgeted under his gaze, their eyes darting uneasily.

“I ask not because I wish to condemn you. I simply don’t want to waste valuable imperial forces by killing them in vain. So, answer. Or must I uncover it myself and make the shame public?”

His stare bored into them, relentless. Just as the knights and mages began to stammer out fragmented excuses … 

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He cut them off coldly.

“I already know. Gold, wine, trinkets, fine gifts, yes? Isn’t that what you accepted?”

“Your Highness… It wasn’t done intentionally…” 

“Not intentionally? Then naturally. You’ve simply grown used to taking what’s handed to you. It’s the same all across the Empire…  Knights …  Mages. You all lined your pockets with coin earned by selling off imperial mysteries. Tell me,is any of that wealth truly yours?”

“…”

“On what grounds did you take it? For whose sake do you serve?”

“For the Empire.”

“For the Ironia Empire.”

Aziel nodded, pleased.

“Then do not forget it. Even if the words come from a mad prince, even if the suffering belongs to the Northerners, whom you consider strangers , if it serves the Empire, it must be acknowledged. It must be addressed.”

The knights and mages looked at him strangely now. Aziel … mad, arrogant, infamously cruel, speaking of the Empire’s peace? Unbelievable. And yet…That was the path he pursued. Madness, perhaps, but aimed in the right direction.

“Only then can you keep feasting like this. But make no mistake. The one who offered bribes wasn’t merely these corrupted administrators. It was I … Aziel, a prince of the Empire. It was the Empire itself. Remember that, and perhaps the North will feel less like exile.”

“We understand. We will not forget it.”

“We’ll fulfill our duties properly from here on.”

Only after hearing their solemn pledges did Aziel wave his hand in dismissal.

The message was clear: “Be gone.”

[You have influenced the target’s fate. Minor corruption has been devoured. Sub-fates of Responsibility and Chivalry have grown.]

[You have influenced the target’s fate. Sub-fates of Selfishness and Corruption have diminished. Communal awareness is growing.] 

A small shift in their fates had begun. Aziel had no illusion that everything would change at once. It would take time. But while he remained in the North, he would keep working at it.

“Alfred, Sophia. You’ve done excellent work.”

“Have you been well, Your Highness?”

“Not entirely. But I imagine you’ve heard some of it.”

“We heard you encountered demons.”

“Yes. Besides punishing the administrators, was there progress in your investigation?”

And so, Alfred and Sophia began their report. 

While the administrators had been preoccupied bribing knights and mages, the two had delved into the shadows. They discovered that assassinations among administrators had long been a quiet tradition, mainly to eliminate those who opposed the selling of imperial fire.

Among their findings … 

“They deliberately lowered the bonfire’s output?”

“Yes. Neglect may have played a role, but it appears they intentionally reduced the output to limit supply to the North.”

“To manipulate the Count’s household.”

“Recently, they’ve been gradually decreasing it to create a sense of crisis.”

“And they only distributed fire to those who cooperated with them.”

Sophia’s voice rose with rare indignation, her cheeks flushed.

“That’s not all! The fire meant for ordinary homes was being siphoned off to line their own pockets. Honestly! You really cracked their skulls well, Your Highness. Perfectly done.”

“Alfred?”

“Ah, well… the cold weather seems to have made Lady Sophia a bit rough.”

“A-ah! I-I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, Your Highness. I apologize if I was out of line!”

She flailed like an indignant sparrow, quickly bowing after overhearing Aziel’s exchange with Alfred. It was endearing. Her tightly sealed nature had begun to thaw. 

He chuckled in satisfaction.

“Good. Very good. It seems we’ve achieved more than I expected.”

The group shared a laugh at Sophia’s scarlet ears and cheeks. But then … 

“Then who … what lunatic … let these administrators rot for so long?”

At last, he brought up the real core of the issue. Even in his past life, stories had circulated about the administrators’ corruption leading to the North’s downfall. But never once had he heard about the figure behind it all, the one who let it happen.

The true culprit, that one would have to burn. 

However, for the first time, Alfred shook his head.

“They’ve covered their tracks too thoroughly. We haven’t found them yet.”

“You haven’t? Is it just a matter of time? Or is there a wall in the way?”

“Both, Your Highness.”

For even Alfred, the man destined to lead the Shadow Iron Division,to be blocked, the enemy must be formidable.

A twinge of unease brushed Aziel’s mind. Faces of powerful figures flickered through his thoughts.

One of them?

Still, he smiled faintly.

“We might have snagged a big one.”

But fear? None. None at all.

No one could stop a prince maddened by fury and inflated with arrogant rage. If they tried, he’d crush them. That was the life Aziel had chosen, a tyrant reborn to devour fate and change the ending.

As memories of his past life faded, he arrived at a colossal structure.

“This is it, Your Highness. The Bonfire Repository. The place that contains the so-called mystery of the Bonfire.”

The Bonfire tower stood quiet, many of its administrators already arrested.

“Whoosh.”

A wave of scorching heat roared up from deep within the tower.

Magical arrays etched across the entire exterior glowed faintly, while steam spewed from the pipes mounted all around.

Aziel stepped closer. Gears spun. Hydraulic pumps pulsed with magical pressure.

“They say, at first, the entire region was filled with lava. Didn’t they?”

“Yes. Later, the Founding Emperor constructed this tower to house the flame and named it the Bonfire to warm the North.”

“Looks like they’ve slapped a lot of things on it. It couldn’t have looked like this in the beginning.”

“No. Over time, they added more magic and machinery to improve stability and output.”

“Shame I never saw its original form.”

“I feel the same.”

They wandered, observing the tower as it pulsed like a massive, living creature. Aziel had never seen it in his past life, by then, the North had already been lost.

Now, standing before it at last, the experience felt profound.

As he returned to the front … 

[Inspecting the object’s fate. You have encountered a powerful mystery sealed within the Bonfire.]

[You have confronted your own mystery: Flame Emperor’s Second Heart – Hyper Crimson Flame. The fate of fire within you stirs violently.]

[The noble bloodline, the blood that devours mysteries, begins to surge.]

[To claim the fire, you must shatter the shell of fate.]

“…What?” 

The words escaped him before he realized …  

Was it telling him to destroy the Bonfire  itself? The very structure that had stood since the Empire’s founding? The North’s only light, it’s only warmth? Just to obtain power?

To any rational mind, this would seem impossible. It wasn’t merely a matter of safety for the North, it was a matter of the Empire’s future. And yet…

“What do you suppose would happen if I broke it?”

“Your Highness?”

Would they arrest a prince?

A tyrant only cared about one thing, and it was the answer. And surely, he could at least try to find the method to destroy it, right?

[A new fate stirs within the Bonfire. A mad urge for destruction flickers at its edge.]