Angelo lay on his bed, holding the flash drive in his hand.
He stared at it in silence.
Memories returned. Things he hadn't allowed himself to recall for years.
His eyes closed.
Sleep took him.
The throne hall rose from darkness. Black marble beneath a ceiling swallowed by shadow. Crimson banners between pillars. Blue flames burning without flicker.
At the far end stood the obsidian throne.
And on it sat Angelo Fool.
The Bloody Emperor.
Before him stood the five guild leaders — the final alliance formed to end his reign.
Rosalia of Midnight Rose, the Mirror of Fate hovering beside her.
Brad of the Berserkers, halberd resting against his shoulder.
Oliver of Little Grass, blade steady.
Daric of Solid Stone, iron knuckles encasing his fists.
John of Dark Swamp, black nunchaku spinning lazily.
Rosalia stepped forward.
"You didn't rule Pelegon. You enslaved it."
Angelo remained seated for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"I didn't enslave it."
He rose slowly.
"I built it."
He stepped down from the throne.
"I built an empire… and became its rightful ruler."
His gaze sharpened.
"The true Emperor of Pelegon."
Brad scoffed, a crooked grin on his face.
"Emperor? Don't make me laugh, kid."
Angelo didn't let anyone interrupt.
"You're not angry because of my words," he said calmly.
"You're angry because you lost control."
His eyes moved across all five of them.
"You lost the power you once had."
A pause.
"And under your rule… this server was nothing but a rotten hole."
"What did you say?" Rosalia snapped, fury flashing in her eyes.
"I said what you heard, girl."
His voice remained cold.
"When I became Emperor, I created equality. Between real players, NPCs, and every race."
He looked directly at her.
"I brought order. I ended the wars."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"Before me, Pelegon was chaos and ruin."
A step forward.
"I abolished slavery."
His eyes didn't leave Rosalia.
"Slave trade. NPC trafficking. All of it."
The meaning was clear.
She stiffened.
"Don't you dare—"
"Your reaction tells me everything," Angelo cut in calmly.
"It proves I'm right."
Rosalia was about to step forward—
—but Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
"Enough of this farce," he said.
His eyes locked onto Angelo.
"Bloody Emperor. It's not too late. Step down."
Angelo let out a quiet chuckle.
"Step down?"
He looked at them as if the idea itself was absurd.
"Are you serious?"
His voice hardened.
"I, Angelo Fool… will never abandon my throne."
A crimson aura erupted around him.
"My empire… is absolute."
John gave a crooked smile.
"Looks like words won't work on him, guys."
Brad smirked.
"You're right."
He tightened his grip on the halberd.
"Time to teach the kid his place."
The five moved as one.
Angelo's eyes glowed red.
"I will crush you like a god crushes turtles."
Crimson threads exploded from his aura — countless, sharp, alive.
They lashed forward like a storm.
Rosalia raised the Mirror of Fate — light shattered incoming threads.
Brad charged through them, tearing paths open with brute force.
Oliver cut with surgical precision, slicing threads mid-flight.
Daric pushed forward like a wall, absorbing impact and breaking through.
John slipped through the chaos like a shadow, striking at weak points.
The hall trembled. Marble cracked. Pillars split.
The threads adapted. Multiplied. Closed in again.
But the five pressed forward together.
Rosalia deflected.
Brad created space.
Oliver found the opening.
Daric struck.
John disrupted the rhythm.
For a brief moment—
the crimson field faltered.
That was enough.
Steel pierced.
Impact followed.
Strikes landed from every direction.
Angelo stood surrounded.
His aura dimmed.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Such hypocrites… are unworthy to rule Pelegon."
The throne hall shattered into darkness.
He woke.
Dark room. Zurich. Silence.
His breathing was steady.
"What a ridiculous dream," he muttered.