Opinions.

After Two Days

[As the Emperor said, the assembly is being held this very morning.]

Marcus stands near the edge of the Central Corridor, watching the officials and nobles gather in silence.

[But I still can't believe he said that…]

His thoughts swirl in disbelief.

[Really doubtful… Yet, the reason lord Damon gave—was also valid… painfully valid.]

He clenches his jaw, torn between instinct and logic. The weight of the Emperor's decision still hangs heavy, like fog refusing to lift.

Reminiscing the conversation, his mind wandered back into it—every word etched with weight.

[The reason Lord Damon gave...]

It echoed in Marcus's thoughts.

[They can't let Miguel be confronted in the Central Corridor... because if the other Council members found out his mana was corrupted, it would spark outrage. A riot. Because there's a law…]

He recalled it clearly now.

[A law that states: if a member of the royal bloodline turns corrupted, then their fate is no longer the Emperor's to decide alone. A full Council must be present. The judgment must be shared.]Which would have made the Emperor's words—his authority—completely invalid in this case.

And that wasn't even the worst of it.

[Eventually, these nobles… they would've started connecting the dots—linking Miguel's influence to the baby.And once they reached that conclusion… they'd discover the truth:That the young prince holds no power from the Fruit.]

Coming to his senses, he notices the grand scene unfolding before him.

All of the family nobles, army generals, palace troops, royal healers, skilled workers, and elite sorcerers had assembled in the Central Corridor—a sea of anticipation and unease hanging thick in the air. Each of them stood silent, awaiting the arrival of the Emperor and the one branded as the culprit.

The Central Corridor itself was enormous—a colossal hall connecting the four great wings of the imperial palace. More than just architecture, it served as both the symbolic and functional heart of the Emperor's dominion.

Mana flowed through its structure like blood in veins—a regulated, rhythmic pulse that stabilized the entire palace, preventing arcane collapse or magical interference. Its towering walls shimmered softly with ancient runes, glowing with faint but resolute light.

As Marcus observes the vast corridor, his thoughts still heavy with the Emperor's fears, a familiar presence approaches.

Kumara steps beside him, silent at first, then folds his arms as they both stand on the right side of the corridor—facing the center of the grand hall where all attention will soon converge.

"There's a lot more crowd than expected…" Kumara says quietly, his eyes scanning the gathering.

Marcus turns to his right, meeting Kumara's gaze with a steady look. His voice is calm, but edged with quiet tension.

"Well… this was to be expected," he replies, his eyes drifting back to the sea of gathered faces. "And seeing all the family nobles here—it's obvious they'll enjoy the spectacle."

He pauses for a moment, his expression darkening.

"Except for the fact that Miguel's fate was decided without their permission. No Council meeting. No debate. Just the Emperor's word."

Kumara nods slightly, keeping his voice low.

"Well, they can't do anything about it. They know the law of Absolute Word. No one can question the Emperor's decision—especially when he's the one who witnessed the royal crime firsthand. That's the only reason why, the plan to transfer Miguel can be successful."

Marcus responds, his tone equally hushed, "Yes... you're right. If not for that law, it would've been nearly impossible to convince the Council why they weren't invited… or to stop them from questioning Miguel's true intentions."

[ It would have Lead them to find out about the young prince and his powers…

That's why there's no reason to doubt the Emperor's words or his verdict. And yet… I don't know why these doubts keep creeping into my mind.]

These thoughts made Marcus overthink, his gaze fixed yet unfocused as the voices around him faded into a distant hum. Doubt wasn't supposed to exist—not when the Emperor had spoken. But it lingered, uninvited, pulling at the edges of his certainty like a loose thread.

[ I should not overthink...it wont lead to any good...have to focus on the assembly and task in hand.]

"How's the Commander… is he doing okay?" Kumara asks, his tone laced with quiet concern.

"Huh—" Marcus blinks, caught off guard by the question. He had been lost in his own spiraling thoughts, trying hard not to overthink the situation. Regaining focus, he replies, "Well, you were there too… you saw him. He wasn't himself when he heard the whole truth about Miguel and Alice. They were his only family. His anchor."

"That I'm aware of, Lord Marcus," Kumara nods solemnly. "But… he stayed behind in the Council Chamber after we left. Did he speak about what the Emperor and he discussed?"

Marcus shakes his head slightly, his expression tightening. "That I'm not familiar with… I couldn't get a moment to speak with him afterward. I think… he just needs space. Time to process a tragedy like that doesn't come easy."

"You're right… But if only I had insisted on staying with them—maybe then I could've prevented it," Kumara says, his voice low with regret. "I still don't understand how he could do it. His smile… his gaze… it all felt real. Was it all just a lie?" His words are heavy, laced with doubt, as he questions his own instincts from that day.

"And it's not your fault," Marcus mutters, his voice quiet but edged with bitterness. "That's just how faith and destiny work in this world. Believing in them too much… it only leads to uncanny outcomes. Because that's the law of this world—nothing good ever comes from putting too much trust in such things."

As soon as Marcus utters those words, a hush sweeps through the grand hall.

The Emperor enters the Central Corridor.

His presence alone is enough to silence the crowd—an invisible weight settles over everyone, the sheer force of his aura pressing down like gravity itself. The regulated mana flowing through the corridor seems to pulse in sync with his footsteps, responding to the immense power of the Fruit that resides within him.

Behind him, bound in heavy chains that glint with embedded runes, walks Miguel.

His hands are locked in a caged gauntlet, enchanted to suppress any spellcasting. Flanking him on both sides are elite palace guards, gripping the chains tightly. Every clink echoes through the corridor, each step a reminder of betrayal.

The sight of Miguel in shackles—the once-revered brother of the Emperor—sends ripples of unease through the gathering.

On the far end of the corridor, two elite council members—Lord Ramon and Lord Velkar—stand still, cloaked in their ceremonial robes, their expressions unreadable to the onlookers. Yet beneath the stoic exterior, their whispers carry the weight of deep resentment.

"Miguel was in luck…" Lord Ramon mutters under his breath, his eyes fixed on the chained figure. "Had it been anyone else who caught him in the act, I would have ensured he received a punishment worse than death."

Lord Velkar leans slightly toward him, voice equally low but bitter. "You are absolutely right, Lord Ramon. We all would've relished that moment. After all, it's their reckless decisions over the last fifteen years that brought this kingdom to its knees."

His gaze sharpens, sweeping across the gathered nobles. "The borders are unguarded. Foreign assaults have become a monthly affair. The empire bleeds from within—plagued by disease, drowning in poverty… And the worst of it? The Asura sightings have surged in the past nine years. It's not coincidence. It's misrule."

Ramon clenches his jaw. "And now, we're expected to stand and watch him getting away with easy death." 

Even though the decision of his death has not yet been officially announced, the higher nobles and elite royals already know what's going to happen.

"But still... it's unbelievable that he would do such a thing," says Lord Velkar, his voice hushed with disbelief.

"Well, it is," the other replies, his tone conflicted. "Even though I never liked him, the idea that he would kill his own wife—and his own sister—just to claim the Fruit's power for himself... It's so absurd it feels almost forced. It doesn't make sense. Not from someone like him."

They both fall silent for a moment, the weight of the accusation lingering in the air heavier than the quiet judgment echoing through the corridor.

"It's only possible if he himself is corrupted—" one begins to say, but is quickly interrupted by Lord Ramon.

"That's not the case either. If he were, I would've known by now," Ramon says firmly, narrowing his eyes. "And besides… we can all tell. The person walking down that hall right now is Miguel. Not some corrupted Mana entity hiding beneath his skin."

His words hang in the air, sharp and certain—yet a subtle unease flickers behind them, as if even he is trying to convince himself.

"And we cant do anything about it because the law of Absolute Word wont allow us to say or question anything."

"But did you hear that Veer called some of his close officials and underlings two days ago…? Do you think—" Lord Velkar begins, lowering his voice, concern lacing his tone.

But once again, Lord Ramon cuts him off, calm and unwavering.

"You don't have to worry about that," he says with quiet assurance. "I've already been informed. It was nothing more than those men asking questions—trying to understand the truth for themselves."

He pauses briefly before adding, "Veer didn't entertain them either. He gave them the same explanation we've already heard. No more, no less."

As he finishes his sentence, Lord Ramon's gaze slowly shifts across the grand corridor. His eyes secretly gazed upon two familiar figures standing silently on the opposite side of the hall—Marcus and Kumara. 

[Soon you all are going to know.... ]