The Future.

"That's impossible…" the Commander mutters, shock spreading across his face—mirrored in every person standing in the chamber.

Murmurs ripple through the room, tension mounting like a rising storm.

"How can that be?" Marcus steps forward, his voice caught between disbelief and urgency. "The Fruit Power are absolute... no one can defy them." Taking a pause he continues,

"And it has never happened before," Marcus continues, his voice rising slightly, laced with disbelief. "Even when there were attempts—they all ended in failure."

His eyes stay locked on the Emperor, seeking some shred of logic, some explanation that could make sense of it all.

But the Emperor remains composed, his voice calm and deliberate as he gestures to his left.

"Miss Gina, if you would… please provide the explanation."

The woman he gestures to straightens at the sound of her name. The sudden weight of attention startles her, but she quickly bows her head.

"Of course, Your Grace…"

[From where shall I start…] she wonders, heart pounding as she steps forward, collecting her thoughts beneath the pressure of so many watchful eyes.

"Oh well…" Gina begins, her tone steady but cautious, scanning the room. "Well for starters we shall understand how the principle of Fruits Power works when it is transferred from one generation to another. "

Gina tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, steadying herself.

"So… as you may all know," she continues, her voice a bit firmer now, "the power of a Fruit can only be passed down from one generation to another under a very specific condition—that is, during the first intercourse. And it is crucial that the bearer of the power has not engaged in any kind of sexual activity prior to it."

She pauses, letting the weight of the statement settle into the room. The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the unspoken realization of what that condition has always meant.

"In the records," she adds softly, "the reasoning has always been tied to divinity… or purity. It's believed that the power chooses to transfer only in a state of absolute sanctity—untainted, undivided. That's the sacred law of the Fruit."

She takes a breath, steadying herself before continuing, her voice more formal now.

"Also… the power of the Fruit, once set to pass, only transfers to the firstborn child. Not the second, not the third—not even the fifth. Only the very first born has the capacity to inherit it."

The room grows still.

"If—and only if—the bearer manages to suppress their urges, follows the sacred condition, and fulfills the rite as dictated… then, and only then, the power begins its transfer. Not immediately, but gradually. The process is slow—stretching over years—flowing from parent to child."

Her gaze lowers, heavy with the truth she's about to speak.

"And by the time the child reaches the age of fifteen, the transfer is complete. The parent—the original bearer—is then left with nothing."

She closes her eyes briefly. "And within five years of that completion, their body succumbs… to a painful death, brought on by complete Mana decline."

 Gina nods slowly, folding her hands in front of her as she continues, her tone now more cautious, more careful.

"So... when the transfer is in progress—during those years between birth and the child's fifteenth year—the consciousness of the Fruit is considerably weaker than when it is consumed directly."

She looks around the room, ensuring every ear is listening.

"This moment of weakness… it's rare. Vulnerable. And that's what makes it susceptible—susceptible to interference. If someone with the right knowledge, and the right amount of power, attempts to manipulate or alter the transfer through a Spell Ritual… there's a chance they could disrupt the natural law."

A deep murmur passes through the room.

"So… what I'm getting is," the Commander says, his tone sharp with suspicion, "Miguel used this window—this vulnerable phase—to disrupt the law… by performing one of those Spell Rituals you just mentioned?"

He narrows his eyes at Gina, then turns his gaze toward the Emperor, voice laced with doubt.

"But how could you come to that conclusion in such a short amount of time? It's only been 24 hours since the incident."

His words linger heavily in the air, casting a shadow of doubt over the chamber. And then, with a pointed glance at Gina, he adds—more firmly this time:

"And why are we listening to just a student?"

Before the air thickens further, the spokesperson steps in, tone calm but assertive.

"She is not just a student," he says firmly. "She is one of Lord Miguel's finest pupils—and her understanding of ritual magic, mana theory, and forbidden spell-craft already exceeds the rank of a normal Mage."

He looks directly at the Commander.

In response, the Commander shifts his gaze sharply toward him, his voice edged with restrained irritation.

"I didn't ask you, Damon…" he says coldly, the tension between them suddenly becomes evident. "I asked her."

The air in the room tightens as the Commander's words settle, his tone not just questioning—but deliberate. It's clear to everyone present that whatever history lies between the two men, it's far from cordial.

His eyes return to Gina, pointed and unwavering.

The Commander's piercing gaze startles Gina for a moment—her shoulders tighten, breath catching slightly—but she holds her ground.

"Just like you… I don't want to believe that Lord Miguel would ever do something like this," she says, voice trembling slightly with emotion, yet steady. "He treated me with respect, when no one else did."

She pauses, eyes softening.

"It wasn't just him… Queen Alice was the same. They both showed me kindness I never expected. I'm still trying to make sense of it all. I really do feel like you… I—"

Before she can finish, the Emperor's calm voice cuts through the tension.

"Commander," he says firmly, "I understand what you're feeling. We all do. But I cannot allow you to lose your composure. You are the most senior voice in this Council."

The Commander's eyes narrow, jaw clenched. "It's not about composure, my grace…" he replies, tone restrained but resolute. "It's about the truth. That's why we're here—to uncover the truth behind Miguel's actions. How can we come to conclusion that he is one who killed both his wife and sister...There can be involvement of external factors."

His voice rises just enough to carry weight, but not cross the line of disrespect.

"And if he's not here to defend himself… how can we settle for theory and speculation? With all due respect, I expected the truth to come from you, my king. As You are the one who saw it all happen with your own eyes." Confused and anguish, didn't make him realize to think thoroughly about the other factors which will get affected by it.

The Emperor's voice deepens with a weight few in the room have ever heard from him.

"It's not only about Miguel, Commander…" he begins, eyes steady yet clouded with grief. "I've lost my family too."

His words silence the room.

"I saw it… with my own eyes. My wife… my sister… and my dearest friend—taken from me in a single moment."

His voice trembles, but only slightly.

"What do you think I felt in that moment? What would you have felt?"

He lets the silence linger before continuing, more composed now.

"It's not that I didn't want to believe in him. I didn't believe it at first. But what I saw… was corrupted Mana leaking from his flow. Mana that no man, no sorcerer—no brother of mine—should possess."

He turns slightly toward Gina.

"So I called her. I asked her to confirm what I feared… through the Mana Scale spell."

He pauses, voice tight. "And what she revealed… left no room for doubt."

"Till then…" the Emperor continues, his voice quieter now, but laced with heaviness, "he hadn't confessed… and none of us had come to a conclusion about why he did it. Not until this morning—when Gina performed the Trial."

His gaze sweeps across the room, landing on each face as if searching for understanding.

"And the result… confirmed our worst fear—my son hasn't inherited the Fruit's power."

A wave of murmurs passes through the room, restrained but uneasy.

"That revelation… it doubled everything down."

He inhales sharply, collecting himself before saying, "And we all know what corrupted beings are… how they act, how they think. What they're capable of."

A long silence falls.

"So when I considered the nature of what I saw… the mana, the signs, the aftermath—this was the only answer I could come to."

The finality in his words hangs in the air—like a verdict no one truly wants to accept.

"That's why this meeting was called," the Emperor declares, his tone resolute now, though the weight in it is unmistakable. "A meeting that will decide the course of our kingdom's future… and the fate of the generations yet to come."

He looks around the chamber, his gaze sharp, unwavering.

"It is also the reason why Lord Miguel… and the rest of the Council… are not present here today."

A silence follows—thick, expectant.

"Because what is going to happen from this moment forward… must remain known only to those standing in this room. No one else."

 Glaring, his voice hardens.

Because the Emperor's words are absolute, the Commander finds himself bound by duty and tradition. No matter how much conflict brews within him—no matter how many doubts swirl in his mind—he cannot challenge the will of the throne, not here… not now.

With a reluctant breath, he lowers his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides. He backs down as it is his only option.