The news of Kyle Armstrong's triumph over Moras spread like wildfire.
In every corner of the continent, from crowded markets to quiet monasteries, tongues wagged and hearts raced.
The mortals who had suffered under divine oppression cheered as if their chains had finally cracked. Those who had long followed Kyle's growth now celebrated his rise with unrestrained pride.
But for those who had built their power on the foundation of divinity, it was a devastating blow.
Within one of the empire's opulent strategy halls, lined with towering glass windows and golden sigils, the imperial council was in the midst of a routine meeting.
Crown Prince Mikalius lounged on his elevated chair, idly swirling wine in a goblet while Grand Duchess Amanda stood beside the long marble table, reviewing reports from border provinces.
The atmosphere was tense but predictable—until a guard burst through the chamber doors, face pale and breath labored.