"Hmm... so if he doesn't have legs anymore... that means he will need less energy to function, right? Then, can I have his food portion?"
A gruff voice echoed from the right side of the throne.
The speaker was a knight clad in a garish green suit of armor. His body was bloated, with a belly so round it looked as though a single strong step would make it hit the ground.
With every step he took, his stomach armor jiggled and trembled, resembling a man in his eighth month of pregnancy. His shoulders were broad like chopping boards, his neck almost nonexistent, making him look like a slab of meat that had somehow started walking.
Even now, faint "crunch crunch" sounds could be heard from his mouth.Though nothing could be seen clearly, it was obvious he was still munching on something. His appearance was slovenly and unkempt, nothing like the imposing image one might expect from a knight.
"Hmph! All you ever think about is food, Grakk?!"
Another voice spoke up, this one sly and mocking. "If you ask me, Julius is probably even stronger now without his legs! He's lighter, more agile, don't you think?"
The speaker was a tall, lanky knight dressed in deep blue armor, his eyes glinting with mischief. His tone dripped with sarcasm, words that sounded genuine, yet were laced with deceit.
"Your voice reeks of lies, Ganmag," Another voice cut in, sharp, steely, and cold as ice:
"We must judge based on reality. Right and wrong must be clearly distinguished."
It was yet another knight, this one clad in an unusual suit of armor, half white, half black, as if to embody the two sides of morality itself.
"Ugh, you're way too stiff, Nakroth," the sly one—Ganmag, grumbled under his breath.
"People are alive, not some program. Why the hell do you have to draw such a sharp line between black and white all the time?"
"Because life is only right and wrong" - Nakroth snapped back coldly, his eyes as sharp and unforgiving as a blade: "There is no grey area in between."
"Mooou~ you guys, stop it already~ Don't you see that poor Julie is sad~?"
This time, the voice came from a girl, sweet and syrupy like melted sugarcane, drifting from a petite figure clad in a pink suit of armor.
That armor, though, was more for appearance than practicality. It was full of suggestive gaps, exposing smooth, rosy-pink skin that gleamed like ripe fruit in the sun. Her face remained unseen, but even just hearing that coquettish tone was enough to make the weak of heart swoon on the spot.
"Oh, and by the way, Julie-dear~" she cooed with a sultry flutter, "Even if you've lost your legs, as long as that "thing" of yours is still working just fine… then to me, you'll always be the most handsome man in the world~"
Her voice echoed again, soft, lilting, and so sinfully seductive it could raise goosebumps down a man's spine.
They chattered noisily among themselves, filling the hall with a raucous din like a bustling marketplace.
The guards, meanwhile, remained standing still as statues, indifferent as if such clamor were a daily occurrence. Evidently, this kind of commotion wasn't anything out of the ordinary here.
Suddenly—
"BANG!"
"Silence!"
A thunderous slam shook the air, followed by a commanding voice echoing from the man who had remained seated upon the throne.
His voice was deep and imposing, immediately bringing the room to a dead silence.
The whispers and laughter died in an instant. All eyes turned toward the speaker, their Emperor.
He sat tall on his throne, his gaze as cold and unfathomable as a bottomless abyss, locked tightly onto Julius.
"Julius Aliathur."
The emperor spoke, his tone low and chilling, as though he were barely suppressing a seething fury.
Under that gaze, even Julius, usually proud and composed, became wary. He lowered his head slightly, trying to steady his breath, and spoke with respectful caution:
"My Emperor… you summoned me?"
"What of the task I entrusted to you?"
At the emperor's question, Julius visibly shuddered. His hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm.
"I … I found the Eternal Winter Dark Mage, but… but…"
"But what?" the emperor's voice grew sharper.
"…But she disobeyed, committed the crime of defying the throne… so I… I killed her."
"BANG!"
Another slam echoed, louder than the first. Julius flinched, his body nearly giving out. Still, he tried to maintain a calm exterior, suppressing the tremor in his eyes.
Across the hall, the Emperor remained silent. Even though his expression was partially obscured by the dim light, one could feel the storm brewing within him, as though his face was shrouded in a dark mist.
"Julius, tell me, do you know why I sent you to find the Eternal Winter Dark Mage?"
"My Emperor… it was because the kingdom is about to face a great war…" Julius answered carefully, hoping that would be enough.
But—
"BANG!!"
Another deafening slam, as if meant to shake the very throne. Julius now looked as though he might collapse any second.
"Saying that… proves you still fail to grasp the gravity of this battle!"
"Our kingdom, Thorvalis, is one of the mightiest powers in the world. Yet compared to the enemy approaching us… our current strength is nothing!
That is precisely why I needed the power of Thorvalis' former strongest mage! Only she possessed the strength to turn the tide and lead us to victory in this war!"
His voice was growing ever more impatient, cold and merciless.
"And now… you tell me she's dead?!
Then what of this kingdom's fate?! Even if you've retrieved her Dark-Ice Magic Core, do you truly believe Irina Heather's power can simply be claimed by ripping her core from her corpse?"
His breath grew heavier, each word laced with barely contained fury.
"Without her power, do you really think… that any of you can stand against the Principality of Voltaris?!"
....