"Enough. I know this is difficult to accept. Take your time. Stay here and collect your thoughts."
"Move aside."
Aizen took a step forward, his tone brokering no argument.
"I'm leaving."
"Where exactly do you intend to go? Your place is here, with the family you swore to serve."
"No."
Aizen's voice was steady.
"My loyalty belongs to House Hern, but not to you, Second Prince. His Highness never considered you his successor. He only ever had Tristan or the First Prince in mind."
"...!"
Jordi's face twisted into something monstrous.
Even if he had known this truth deep down, hearing it from Aizen's mouth was different.
And in front of so many witnesses, no less.
"Aizen!"
"Step aside."
Fwoosh—
Aizen took another step, and a wave of azure energy rippled outward.
Magic, raw and tangible, crackled in the air.
It was a clear message.
If they continued to block his path, he would not hesitate to use force.
Jordi gritted his teeth.
"…You leave me no choice."
Aizen's eyes narrowed.
"You intend to stop me? Or perhaps… kill me?"
"Neither."
Then—
Fwoosh!
Dark tendrils lashed out from the shadows of the garden.
Sharp, jagged, and eerily precise, they speared through the air and impaled Aizen's thigh.
Blood splattered onto the stone tiles beneath him.
Jordi sighed, watching the crimson droplets pool at Aizen's feet.
"I am merely ensuring that you receive medical treatment. With that injury, you won't be walking anywhere."
Aizen's eyes darkened.
"Hmph."
Boom!
Before Jordi could finish speaking, Aizen slammed his foot into the ground.
The force sent a shockwave through his entire body, locking the tendrils in place.
The shadowy limbs strained, trying to writhe free from his leg—
But Aizen used that momentum against them.
With a sudden burst of strength, he kicked off from the ground, using the tendrils themselves to propel forward.
"You bastard!"
Boom!
Aizen tore a wooden training sword from its stand and swung.
The impact struck a shadowed column, sending a concussive wave across the courtyard.
● KIEEEEEEE!
A hideous scream erupted from within the darkness.
A fountain of black blood sprayed out, staining the ground.
Then—
A figure emerged from the shadows, its body twisted and mangled.
It was human.
Or at least, it had been.
Its bones had been shattered, its organs liquefied from the shockwave alone.
Crawling forward on broken limbs, the figure hacked up a mouthful of thick, black blood—
And then slumped over, lifeless.
"..."
"..."
Everyone stared.
Jordi's knights, still as statues.
Hendrik, frozen in disbelief.
Even Jordi himself could only gape at the scene.
Aizen, meanwhile, had already yanked the black tendrils from his leg and tossed them aside as if they were nothing.
White smoke drifted from his wound, as if his body was actively burning away the corruption.
Flexing his leg a few times, he turned his gaze back to Jordi.
"So, tell me, Second Prince—"
Aizen's lips curled into a smirk.
"What was that about treatment?"
Jordi instinctively took a step back under Aizen's gaze.
The composure he had exuded just moments ago had vanished, replaced by beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
"As expected of Sir Aizen. Your skill truly befits the title of Sword Saint."
"That much is common knowledge. It is surprising that you, of all people, were unaware."
"..."
"What is even more surprising," Aizen continued, his gaze shifting to the crumpled form of the sorcerer at his feet, "is that you sought the help of a mage."
Aizen knew better than anyone how obsessed the Imperial Family was with magic users. Even for someone like Jordi, employing a mage was not something that could be brushed aside. If word of this reached the wrong ears, it would not end with just a reprimand.
And yet, he had dared to use magic so brazenly, right here, in plain sight.
"Who, exactly, is supporting you? No—who are you truly serving?"
Jordi's lips parted, his voice sharp with indignation.
"I—!"
But no words followed. His mouth had opened, poised to shout in defiance, but not a single sound escaped.
Seeing this, Aizen clicked his tongue.
"Are you saying you cannot even utter the words 'His Majesty the Emperor'?"
"Aizen."
"That is enough," Aizen cut in. "I see no point in further discussion."
He tossed aside the broken wooden sword hilt that had shattered against the ground earlier and picked up another practice sword. Though it was an ordinary training weapon, in the hands of the Sword Saint, it was more fearsome than any blade.
"This is my final warning. Step aside."
There was no room for negotiation in his tone. Jordi, shaking with humiliation, clenched his jaw but ultimately took a step to the side.
The knights who followed him hesitated before also moving aside, clearing the path.
Aizen stepped forward, walking through the open space. As he passed Jordi, he paused for a brief moment.
"Oh, one more thing. Where are the retainers of the Third Prince? I will be taking them as well."
Jordi flinched.
"T-That's—!"
His voice, raised in alarm, abruptly died in his throat.
The Sword Saint's eyes were colder than ice, the wooden blade resting just within reach.
Jordi's lips moved soundlessly before he finally shut his eyes tightly and spoke.
"...I imprisoned them in the underground dungeon not long ago. Do as you wish."
"The underground dungeon, you say?"
A breath of laughter escaped Aizen's lips.
Even before openly rebelling, Jordi had already taken it upon himself to misuse the family's facilities.
Aizen had asked the question without much thought, yet the more he uncovered, the deeper his sighs became.
"Remember this, Second Prince," he said, voice measured. "The only reason I have not cut you down where you stand is because my liege, the Grand Duke, has not given his permission."
Jordi's face twisted with disgrace, but he did not argue.
Leaving him behind, Aizen turned away and headed toward the underground dungeon.
There was nothing more to be done here.
"...And that is how I found them in the dungeon," Aizen explained. "I was worried they might have been tortured, but thankfully, they seemed to be in good health."
Hearing this, Hans scratched the back of his head, looking somewhat sheepish.
"They actually fed us quite well. It was stifling, but at least we weren't mistreated. We managed to endure."