“More,” the Emperor said, his voice soft but resounding.

It was a single word,simple, unexpected.

“…Your Majesty?” one minister blinked in confusion.

“Pardon me, what did you say?” another asked, brows knit with disbelief.

They looked at the Emperor, startled. Had they heard wrong?

A prince had just shouted profanities in the imperial court. He had insulted the highest officials of the Empire, yet the Emperor had not punished him. Instead, he had invited him,encouraged him,to go further?

The ministers were frozen in shock.

But the prince? He inhaled deeply, as though savoring the moment.

The sound of his breath was loud, exaggerated. His chest expanded as though preparing to unleash a dragon’s flame, and the onlookers could practically hear the air swirling into his lungs.

His crimson lips curved ever so slightly.

Every eye watched in dread. They knew what was coming.

“Your Highness! Please, restrain yourself!” one cried.

“Your insults are unbecoming!” another begged.

“Your Majesty! Stop him!” they pleaded.

But it was too late.

“You worthless little worms!” the prince roared. “If any of you open your mouths again, I’ll rip your tongues out myself! Or perhaps I’ll whisper obscenities into your ears until they rot. Yes… how about I start with one of you?”

He marched forward with the swagger of a mad tyrant and seized a minister by the ear.

“What are you,what are you doing?!” the man sputtered.

The prince leaned in and began to whisper.

No one could hear the words.

But whatever they were, the man’s face drained of color.

His limbs quivered. His breath caught in his throat.

By the time the prince pulled away with a wicked smile, the man was trembling, his knees buckling.

“Haa… h-hurk…”

He began to crumple to the ground.

But the prince held his ear tightly and sneered.

“I’m not finished.”

He yanked the man upright again and continued to whisper.

The man’s eyes widened, then bulged.

“AAARGH!” he screamed.

His howl filled the imperial court,a raw, agonized cry that made every heart shudder.

And then,

The prince bit down and tore the man’s ear clean off.

He let the mutilated man fall and tossed the bloody ear to the floor with a flick of his hand.

Crimson stained the marble tile.

The smell of blood drifted into the room.

The prince turned, his eyes glinting, his breath steady.

“Such chatterboxes,” he said mockingly, sweeping his gaze across the stunned assembly. “But when it comes to listening, you all fall short. So… who wants to lend me their ears next?”

He prowled slowly across the court like a beast, his boots echoing. A predator among prey.

The fear was tangible.

He locked eyes with the officials closest to him. They flinched and lowered their gazes.

This was madness.

Even for a prince, this was unacceptable.

To attack a minister, to maim someone in court,this could not be excused.

Yet no one dared speak.

Their silence spoke volumes.

“Do you find this unjust?” Aziel asked. “That a prince would insult his ministers? That I would rip off a man’s ear?”

The silence hung heavy.

He grinned.

“Then you should have been born princes.”

Gasps rippled through the chamber.

Had they heard right?

That statement was beyond arrogance,it was blasphemous to the very structure of the Empire.

A prince, yes,but no prince had ever dared say such a thing.

As shock froze the court, Aziel only laughed.

His laugh was bright,almost innocent,but the glint in his eyes was sharp, wild.

Then the ministers turned, desperate, looking to the Emperor for response.

This had gone too far.

And yet,

“Aziel,” the Emperor said quietly, “your joke has gone far enough.”

Joke? the ministers thought in disbelief. That was a joke?

But Aziel stepped back, bowed his head slightly, and responded smoothly.

“A jest, Your Majesty. Forgive me. I shall now speak properly.”

And with that, he turned to face the crowd.

“I will now explain why I cursed you. Why did I tore that man’s ear from his head.”

The room was silent.

“The Empire stands at the edge of war,” Aziel said. “You endangered its safety. By right, your heads should be severed. But thanks to His Majesty’s mercy, I spared you with mere insults and a single lost ear. Be grateful.”

No shame. No regret. Only righteousness.

He continued.

“You ignored the corruption in the North. I reviewed the records. The managers of the Northern flame towers,those responsible for fuel, rations, maintenance,had been accepting bribes. And from whom? Many of you. Their ledgers are full of names.”

He reached toward the hilt of Breaker as it scraped the marble beneath him.

“Because of your greed, the North was left to starve. No support. No supplies. They had to turn every ounce of their strength toward survival,toward building soldiers from the snow.”

He turned slowly, eyes narrowing.

“You repeated the same lies. ‘Don’t support the North. Don’t send aid.’ You parroted those lines while lining your own pockets.”

“…”

“And when the Eskimos came,yes, them, real as the ice in your veins,we reported it. The monsters joined them. And still you sent no help. Not a single soldier rode north. You sat in your warm homes, treating the border like it was already lost.”

His voice rose, hard and biting.

“But then… then the word ‘rebellion’ reached your ears. And suddenly, you all came running like flies to a corpse.”

Their faces turned pale, then green.

“You ignored real danger. You grew fat while the North bled. Why should I show you respect? Because you’re ministers? Spare me.”

He paused, letting the weight settle.

“I submitted a formal petition. I included a detailed report of the Eskimos and their alliance with northern monsters. It was stamped with the seal of the Border Count.”

At that, the Emperor’s brow furrowed.

“A petition?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Aziel replied. “I sent it before mobilizing. It was marked urgent and sealed with the Count’s authority. It should have reached Steel Fortress.”

“I never received such a thing,” the Emperor said coldly. His voice sharpened. “Who withheld it?”

The fury in his tone was clear.

Ministers flinched.

A few turned pale.

Finally, one man stepped forward, stammering.

“M-my apologies, Your Majesty. I,I thought the contents were too fanciful. I intended to review it later and,”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Others dropped to their knees beside him.

“We meant to report it properly…”

The Emperor’s jaw tightened.

They had seen the petition. And ignored it. Then dared to suggest abandoning the North?

“Your Majesty, we feared causing panic over uncertain rumors,”

“We were only trying to protect the Empire,”

“The threat seemed so vague,”

“Traitors,” Aziel growled. “You say this was for the Empire. Always for the Empire. And yet, you never act for the Empire. Only yourselves.”

He turned to Lucar, who handed him a large, rune-etched box.

“I risked everything to bring this.”

He opened it.

A scream ripped through the hall.

But it wasn’t human.

It wasn’t natural.

A voice slithered into their minds,cold, malevolent, like nails scraping bone.

It clawed into their skulls and made the deepest corners of their thoughts shriek in agony.

A scream of hatred and despair.

Inside the box was a severed head.

Pale, sunken, eyes hollow like pits, mouth open in a twisted gape.

The head of an Eskimo.

Still cursed. Still radiating its wretched presence.

Bound with magic. Preserved as proof.

“This,” Aziel said, “is not a rumor. Not superstition. Not some ghost tale to be dismissed.”

He snapped the lid shut.

“The Eskimos are real. And they are coming.”

The chamber was deathly silent.

The scream still echoed in their minds.

And finally, Aziel asked:

“Now then… who, exactly, is the traitor?”