“These monsters stand at our threshold, daring to cross the North and lay their filthy hands on the Founding Flame and our Empire!” the prince bellowed. “If this is not war, what is? Look to the North Wall,where men have stood for generations, breathing frost and guarding us from the abyss!”

Prince Aziel’s impassioned cry struck deep within the Emperor’s chest. It was not merely a plea,it was thunder rolling through the great hall.

“Who is the true traitor?” Aziel shouted, voice shaking with raw conviction. “The ones who ignored the truth and called for the North to be cast aside? Or the veterans who’ve counted stars above frozen corpses and fought every night to keep the horrors beyond the wall at bay?”

His voice rang like a hammer striking an iron bell. The ministers flinched.

Even the guards’ hands, once tightly clenched around their hilts in anticipation, began to loosen. The blades in their hands dipped lower.

They could feel it.

This was not rebellion.

This was desperation turned to defiance.

The prince stood proud, white-blond hair swaying with each motion. His crimson eyes were wet with fury, and sorrow, and pride. His slender hand clenched so tightly around the sealed box that his knuckles turned ghostly white. The greatsword on his back dug into him, its edge glancing off the skin of his neck. Blood trickled down.

He didn’t care.

That pain was nothing.

The real wound, the true agony, was watching old men clinging to their power, blinding the Emperor, and calling for the North to be forsaken. Aziel’s voice cracked but did not falter.

“Who is the traitor?” he asked again, voice rising, trembling with both sorrow and fury. “The ones who covered their eyes and turned away from the threat at our gates? Or the old warrior who faked treason just to reach his Emperor? The son who cast his life aside to drag the truth to this court?”

This was the face of the Empire’s decay.

And yet, within that rot, burned the fierce light of a prince willing to tear it all down for something better.

For something just.

The soldiers in the hall could feel it.

This prince was terrifying,but he was their fire. Their fury. Their hope.

A blessing upon the North, they thought. To have a lord like this among them.

Aziel’s gaze swept across the kneeling ministers.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “who’s the traitor now?”

He slammed the box shut. The echo was loud and final. It was as if the last nail had been driven into the coffin of every lie told in that chamber.

And then,

“The prince speaks truth,” the Emperor declared, voice like granite.

“Let none of the ministers speak further. If any of you utter a single word under wartime law, you will be executed where you stand.”

A chill fell over the court.

The battle was over.

The North had won.

Aziel stood motionless, watching as the Emperor’s decree shattered whatever resistance remained.

And then, just briefly,just for a moment,a grin curled on the prince’s lips. A terrible, delighted grin. One that he turned away to hide, but not quickly enough.

Many saw it.

And many shuddered.

They realized then, with chilling certainty, that something had changed.

They had not merely been scolded.

They had been conquered.

The aftermath moved quickly.

Now armed with righteous cause and evidence, the Emperor wasted no time.

The official who had blocked the prince’s petition was arrested and detained. An investigation was launched to determine whether he had acted alone or under someone else’s orders.

Most department officials involved were stripped of rank. Some were exiled.

It was… merciful.

If it had been Aziel’s judgment, heads would have rolled. Their blood would have stained the palace gates. But the Emperor was not that man.

Still, at least one thing was made explicitly clear.

“The North’s rebellion will be considered a fabrication,” the Emperor declared. “From this day forward, anyone who utters the word ‘treason’ in regard to the North will be treated as a traitor themselves.”

The ministers bowed deeply, obediently, silently. They had no choice now.

The Emperor’s expression, however, was a strange mixture of satisfaction and disillusionment. A quiet ache lingered behind his eyes.

It was the look of a man who had spent years hearing ‘grant us your favor, Your Majesty’ only to see those same voices cower in silence the moment their own necks were at risk.

[The destinies of indecision, concealment, manipulation, hesitation, and falsehood have been consumed! Massive Adaptation Points acquired.]

With every decree he passed, the Emperor felt the weight of fate shift. In another life, he must have been crushed under that burden, must have lost the North, must have died by a tyrant’s hand.

But not this time.

And watching him?

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Aziel asked suddenly, glancing over his shoulder.

Lucar Dvorzak coughed. “No reason.”

“Is it the sword? Or is it that I didn’t chop off any more ears?”

“I… no, that’s not,”

“You look almost disappointed.”

“I’m not. Truly.”

The prince smirked. Teased him again. And yet Lucar didn’t flinch. He only watched with a complicated look in his eyes.

And then,

[Lucar Dvorzak’s fate has consumed Madness, Rage, Limit, Disappointment, and Defeat! You’ve gained Mystery Points and Evolution Points! A new fate is forming…]

[The faded destinies of loyalty and obedience toward a former master are redirecting toward you…]

New allegiance?

Aziel turned slightly. Lucar’s gaze met his,and in it burned a fierce new loyalty.

Aziel blinked. Well. That’s inconvenient.

He didn’t want this man’s loyalty. Couldn’t afford it. He would betray it.

Because the war Aziel planned for the North… it wasn’t over. It had only begun.

He would lose small loyalties if he had to. Even Lucar’s.

If it meant saving the Empire from the apocalypse to come.

He had to.

Just as that thought settled in his mind,

“Everyone leave. All except Prince Aziel and Lucar,” the Emperor ordered.

The ministers fled the chamber like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

But not without glancing back.

Their glares were sharp with resentment, tinged with fear.

[New minor destinies: Assassination, Hostility, Opposition are forming around you.]

[Negative fates previously foreseen are accelerating toward you.]

Aziel’s smile widened.

So they would come for him.

Good.

Let them.

[Minor destinies of Mockery, Misunderstanding, False Accusation, and Scorn consumed! Mystery and Evolution Points gained!]

[Investing Evolution Points into: Corruption, Allure. Hypnosis is taking root.]

He distributed his growing power quietly, like seeds before a storm.

He hadn’t even flinched when Breaker was at his throat,but now, as he prepared to speak with the Emperor in private, his throat felt dry.

Because this conversation would be the sharpest blade yet.

The empty audience hall echoed with silence.

“Too much,” the Emperor murmured, shaking his head. “You’re always too much.”

But he wasn’t angry.

No. That was the strange part.

There was no hatred in his voice. No fury.

Just… exhaustion. Disbelief. Perhaps even awe.

“To convey your message, you faked treason. If anything had gone wrong, you would have died.”

“If I hadn’t done this, no one would have listened,” Aziel replied. “Even you might not have. Forgive me for the risk.”

The Emperor exhaled slowly.

It was true. The madness of it had bought them clarity.

“You cursed them,” the Emperor said. “You tore a man’s ear off in court. You insulted my ministers in front of the Empire.”

“But did Your Majesty not smile?” Aziel countered slyly. “I distinctly recall a cough. Perhaps even a grin.”

“…Enough,” the Emperor sighed. “It’s over. And thank the gods it ended this way. We were inches from leaving a scar that would never heal.”

He knew.

The Emperor had shielded him.

No matter how wild a prince acted, if the Emperor allowed it, it became a jest. A staged act. A farce.

It wasn’t just political protection.

It was love.

And Aziel knew that. He was grateful for it.

Which made what he was about to say all the more cruel.

He almost felt sorry.

Almost.

But cruelty often traveled with joy, and in that tension, his grin bloomed.

What an amusing world, where even emperors could inspire pity.

When the Emperor next spoke, his voice was quiet, serious.

“You’ve got a plan for the North’s armies, don’t you? That’s why you gathered them.”

And then,

Aziel dropped the bomb.

“I intend to abandon the North. No, to destroy it completely.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any scream.

Both the Emperor and Lucar turned to stare at him, wide-eyed.

A scribe in the corner dropped his quill.

Someone hiding behind a pillar forgot to breathe.

Aziel’s grin widened.

Ah.

This was fun.

What was life without a little madness?

But to ease the dread, and to claim the moment,

He declared with complete, unshakable confidence:

“I intend to rebuild it. From the ground up. The North. And the Empire’s borders.”

[A new fate blooms in this place. The Third Path of the North: not Rebellion, nor Loyalty,but Destruction and Rebirth.]