The air burned at her back. Every breath Veridia took tasted like smoke and iron.
She couldn't move. The woman who'd stared down emperors and outlasted a hundred assassins just stood there, caught in the cold of those grey eyes across from her.
Fear sat heavy in her chest, too deep to disguise, too old to name.
Then a hand took her arm.
It was solid—real—and it came from inside the infernal gate behind her. The grip didn't hurt, but it promised she wouldn't escape if the man in front of her spoke a single word.
[Fear Detected: 16 Entities]
The System alert flickered in Liam's vision. He ignored it.
His steps echoed, calm and steady, as he closed the space between them. Every sound from his boots landed like a judgment.
The same woman who'd stood proud moments ago now trembled, her eyes darting to his face and away again as if the sight might burn her.
When he finally stopped, he was close enough that she could feel the cold radiating from him.
Liam raised a hand. Not to strike. Just to touch. His fingers brushed her jaw, and she flinched. The heat around them couldn't touch that cold.
"Look at me," he said quietly.
She did.
The grey in his eyes wasn't the soft kind you saw in morning skies—it was stone, smooth and ancient, carved by something she couldn't understand. His gaze searched her face as if weighing whether she deserved to live another second.
"What do you see now?" His voice was low, too calm to be comforting. "A pretender? A savior? Tell me, Veridia… what do you see standing in front of you?"
Her lips parted, but no sound came. The thought of lying to him felt dangerous. The truth was worse—she didn't know.
Something broke inside her then. Pride, maybe. Or the last piece of belief that she had any control left.
[Target Belief Recalibration: Veridia Zevra - 0% → 70%]
[Collective Belief Surge: 9 Entities - Avg Belief 51%]
[Essence Conversion: +1,580 EP | True Essence: +158]
Power rushed through Liam like a flood. He didn't show it. His face stayed still, his breath even.
He leaned close, his mouth near her ear. "You'll get no second chances."
The infernal gate behind her collapsed with a sound like a sigh. The heat vanished. The screams cut off. Silence filled the room like ash settling after a storm.
Liam dropped his hand. Veridia stumbled back, clutching her face where his fingers had been. He didn't look at her again.
He turned toward the circle of thrones. "That goes for all of you."
The room stayed still. The only sound was the crackle of dying magic. His eyes swept over the gathered lords. The arrogance was gone from their faces, replaced by something smaller—fear, awe, submission.
"You called me here," Liam said. His tone was steady, every word deliberate. "You called because you're weak. Because you're losing. You wanted someone to fix it for you."
He let the silence drag for a moment.
"I'm not your savior. I'm the price you pay for failing. The Radiant Empire isn't your real enemy. Your own rot is."
The words hit harder than shouting would have.
"I don't tolerate rot."
The lords moved as one. Heads bowed. Armor clinked. Cloaks shifted. The chamber filled with the sound of surrender.
"We bow before the Originator of Sin," they said together, their voices unsteady but unified.
[Infamy Increased: Notorious Tier → Feared Tier. Reward: +15 EVP]
Liam turned. Knight Heigard lay where he had fallen, gasping for air that wouldn't come. Liam crouched beside him.
"Breathe."
The command snapped whatever held the man. Heigard sucked in air, coughing and wheezing, the sound raw and human.
Liam stood, watching him recover for a heartbeat before facing the council again. The moment for spectacle was over.
"Now," he said, his voice clean and sharp. "Tell me about this war. And why in the nine hells we're losing."
Lord Morwen's fingers trembled as he found his voice.
"The Radiant Empire pushes on all fronts, my lord," he said, every trace of silk and arrogance gone from his tone. "Their main thrust is here."
He swept his hand and a shimmering map rose in the center of the chamber.
A golden spear of light shining across the projection, driving into a sector labeled Province III, Ashard Perimeter.
"The Ashard front," the patriarch of House Kraz'gul growled. His scarred face tightened. "We sent three companies, all were slaughtered. Their paladins cut through our lines and light rends our warriors. Our defenses collapse before their siege engines...we cannot hold."
Lilith, who had watched Liam's earlier display with a quiet kind of triumph, spoke from her throne.
Her voice was thin. "Ashard guards the way to the heartlands. If it falls, Eldhar lies open. We have failed to stop them every time."
Liam watched the map.
The part of his mind that catalogued and calculated was already turning. He read the lines of movement and supply, the weak points and the choke points, and beneath those details he saw something else: a stage set for a single decision.
A slow smile touched his lips.
"The Radiant Empire has gotten bold...perhaps its time we gave them a reason to fear again."
His voice hardened.
"I'll go to Ashard myself."