Dante stared down at the group of noble elves, each one visibly shattered by his shameless decree. His words—uttered with the cold, unyielding authority of a child no older than eleven—had left them utterly speechless. For the first time in their long, proud lives, they were given a grim choice: that the option to end their own misery was his "kindness and mercy."
The hope of escape was gone.
Only suicide now remained as a clear, final option.
They were not fools. They understood that the young boy, possessed countless ways to end their miserable lives. To him, their deaths were inconsequential—basically, unimportant puzzle pieces in a game he never intended to finish. In such a case, what use were the pieces at all?
And so, as one by one they were on the brink of suicide—with trembling limbs, tear-stained faces, and hot liquid seeping down their thighs—the realization that they were truly about to die was a searing, painful truth.
They had imagined various ends in their long lives: a betrayal by a trusted faction member, a violent retribution by the emperor, or even the Grand Duke growing sick of them. Yet nothing had prepared them for this reality.
In the end, no matter how long one lived, life always brought unexpected results.
Then, in a swift, almost clinical moment, the first of them raised his hand quivering, he raised it to his forehead. A thin icicle—durable, sharp, almost needle-like—pierced his skin, entering at his temple and exiting out the back. One after another, more of them followed, each choosing the same, quickest, and least painful way to end their suffering.
Dante, the very cause of this mayhem, regarded the scene with a chilling, satisfied smile. He then turned his eyes toward the remaining dukes and three archdukes who still clung to life. "Okay, Oliver… Aaaaaaand, uhm, Gary?" he called out.
The two—whose names he butchered—exchanged wry, trembling smiles. "Ollie, Young Lord," one corrected hesitantly, while the other managed, "Gaven, My Lord."
Dante nodded. "Yes, that's what I said. Now, you and your fellows—I'll give you a chance at life. My original feud was with Philip, so I don't need to kill you all. Do your best for the sake of my subordinates' training. I'll even give you a handicap: try to land one blow, and if you succeed, I'll consider counting that as your win."
Turning to his subordinate, Dante continued "Their skills in the Epic Tier are most likely too high for you to defeat with sheer brute force. So, optimize your Epic Tier skills with a very limited combined usage of your Legendary skill, this will cost more mana, but you will learn a thing or two, this is actually a good time to refine your Epic Tier skills. Fighting enemies of higher level will teach you what to do and how to adapt. But remember, if you rely solely on the Epic Tier skills, you're guaranteed to lose. You'll understand what I mean by 'optimize' as you continue fighting. Okay?"
Vexion gave a bow, "Yes, my lord."
Dante chuckled softly as he reclined "comfortably" atop the chandelier, his eyes briefly locking with Vexion's. There was something different about her look or rather the way she looked at him, something had definitely changed , but Dante ignored it for now. Another notification flashed in his Loyal Subordinate Skill Bestowal interface. It was the first time that this mysterious system had activated. He recalled the day when, at age eight, he had attempted to make his little sister his subordinate—only to be met with a cold rejection: "Unable to meet Skill requirements." That lesson had taught him that the skill required really high loyalty, some features required absolute loyalty—loyalty to him alone, not to a higher authority like his father, the emperor. With a pleased smile, he looked at Vexion, "You may begin."
.........
Meanwhile, within the Sandrian Royal Palace, a stark contrast unfolded. Aurora sat on her bed, staring out the window into a night that felt unnervingly empty. Her eyes, searching for something filled with deep worry: her child had not yet returned. The boy's robe, strong enough to resist an attack by a mythical being, was a small comfort, yet it did little to ease her motherly longing for him. The mental burden of facing the unknown pressed heavily upon her. With a resigned sigh, she slumped her head into the lap of the empress.
Her muffled voice broke the silence. "What did you think that was?"
The Empress's gentle smile slowly faded as she continued stroking Aurora's hair.
The earlier events were still fresh in her mind.
The laughter.
The overwhelming pressure.
The brief interaction between the Sovereigns.
Even now, thinking about it made her uneasy.
Justin usually behaved more like a mischievous child than an Emperor. Most days, it was easy to forget that he stood as someone at the level of those at the very peak of the world.
But earlier...
For a brief moment...
He had felt like a Sovereign.
A true Sovereign. The aura released by him and the others had been enough to make her mystical skill instinctively retreat. It wasn't fear in the normal sense. It was suppression.
The kind that came from standing before something fundamentally greater than yourself.
Even now, Justin was likely back in his office, happily spoiling his youngest daughter as though nothing had happened.
Yet the memory still lingered. Aurora shifted slightly and buried her face deeper into Olive's lap. The familiar scent calmed her somewhat. "What do you think it was?" Olivia asked quietly. Aurora remained silent for a few seconds. Then she sighed.
"Honestly? I don't know. Olive blinked ,"You don't know?" Aurora shook her head. "I felt something." "A ripple. Her expression grew serious as she continued, "It wasn't mana nor was it aura and most certainly wasn't a skill it felt... deeper than that." Aurora searched for the right words.
"The easiest way to explain it is that it felt like the world noticed something."
Oliva frowned.
"The world?"
Aurora nodded. "People like us interact with skills, while Sovereigns can interact with laws but whatever happened... " She hesitated.
"...felt like it touched something even deeper."
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Aurora's gaze drifted toward the window. "I don't think most people even noticed it. Maybe some special Legendary beings, definitely the higher Mythical ones. And the Sovereigns obviously felt it." She paused before continuing, "The strange thing isn't the ripple it's the response. The world responded."
That sentence alone made the room quieter.
Aurora slowly closed her eyes. "When I tried to understand what I was feeling... I tried to trace the source... I only got one answer."
Olive leaned forward slightly.
"What answer?"
Aurora opened her eyes.
"A vile creature."
The room became completely silent No one laughed or spoke. Even Aurora herself looked uncertain. "It wasn't a voice or anything like that, nor were there any words. It was more like..." She frowned. "A feeling or concept the closest thing I can translate it into is 'a vile creature'." Aurora rubbed her forehead, "honestly, I don't fully understand it myself. The only thing I'm certain of is that something important happened. Something big enough to make the Sovereigns react. "
She glanced toward Olivia before grinning. "My explanation is already simplified."
"You wouldn't understand the complicated version."
Olive immediately smacked her forehead.
Aurora burst into laughter.
"I'm kidding!"
"I'm kidding!"
"Stop hitting me!"
"Just say it in simple terms then," Olivia urged.
They only calmed down when Aurora and her helped them calm down and explain that it was just the Sovereigns discussing something.
Unbeknownst to them. The cause of the ripple was facing a problem she never realised would hit her so soon. She breathed slowly as she scanned her entire surroundings , she was surrounded on all sides. She glanced in slight fear and sadness when she noticed her lords displeased expression as he watched down from his chandelier.