I am Esteban, the butler assassin in service to His Highness. He found me, near death, lying in the streets when I was just a little boy. Begging for food or money, no one paid heed. So, I sought solace at the temple, believing the priests, known as "men of God," might help. Yet, when I approached a priest for food, he slapped me and called me a stain on the temple. The nobles present found it amusing. Fleeing back to the streets, my hunger persisted. I fell ill, on the verge of death. That’s when His Highness called his knights, ordering them to rush me to a nearby hospital. He fed me, offered work, and bestowed a name upon me. His boundless kindness led others to perceive him as a fool, overly compassionate.

But the person standing before me now is the complete opposite of the prince I serve.

He’s kind yet simultaneously, vicious. I'd trained in swordsmanship and assassination techniques under a mercenary’s tutelage, all to protect His Highness. But the being in front of me could decimate a battalion of knights or more. His aura makes me feel feeble and insignificant.

“Oops! I broke your door.”

Sir Gaston appeared taken aback but maintained composure.

"What is the meaning of this rudeness, Your Highness?"

“Rudeness? But I simply wanted to see you, Gaston.”

His Highness exuded an overwhelming killing aura towards Sir Gaston and the assembled knights.

"Gaston? Your Highness, you seem unfamiliar with Imperial etiquette. Respect those in esteemed positions."

"Esteemed? You? If not for your conniving brother, you wouldn’t hold that position."

"Hmph. So what? Be grateful we’re serving under such powerless Royals. Your family is gossip fodder among nobles. Weak, powerless, and mere figureheads. Tsk, you and your brother are disappointments. One is mediocre at swordsmanship, the other excessively coddled by his family. Disappointing, isn't it?"

Sir Gaston was about to sip his wine until—

“Monarch Dome.”

A swarm of black and purple butterflies emerged from His Highness' aura, enveloping the room in a dome of black and purple.

"Purple Emperor."

Purple Emperor? A legendary sword used by Varala's first Emperor. Its blade is purple, with a black diamond embedded in the handle, bearing the image of a purple butterfly. This sword can curse someone if wielded by its master.

I could see the fear in Sir Gaston's eyes. He must realize the gravity of his mistake.

“Why are you doing this, Your Highness?”

“You have no right to speak, Gaston. If I don't command you to speak, DO NOT SPEAK.”

“You’ll face repercussions from higher nobility, Your Highness. They won’t let this pass.”

“You still don’t understand?”

“Purple Emperor, I command you to repeatedly stab and heal him. If he dies, revive him and continue the cycle. Let him endure excruciating pain until I instruct otherwise.”

The sword floated and relentlessly pierced and healed Sir Gaston. It was gruesome. Despite Sir Gaston's desire to surrender, His Highness had paralyzed him with a spell, rendering him unable to speak or move. His Highness sat down, calmly watching.

Is this the same person who saved me? He's ruthless.

“I know you have questions, Esteban. I'll explain later. Just trust me.”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I trust you.”

He ceased torturing Sir Gaston, then grabbed and dragged him toward the knights’ training arena. Carrying the bloodied Sir Gaston, His Highness paraded him before the shocked knights. They couldn’t believe that someone with average physical strength could handle a tall, muscular man like Sir Gaston. They were on the verge of drawing their swords until—

“Genua (Kneel).”

All the knights standing upright knelt, their faces a mix of shock and fear.

“Head on the ground.”

Finally releasing Sir Gaston, His Highness addressed the disloyal knights.

“You worthless Imperial knights, disloyal to our family. What should I do with you? Do you think I am unaware of your treachery? Death would be an easy escape, but I won’t grant you that.”

“Cerulean butterflies. Burn and heal them. Do not cease until I command otherwise.”

Paralyzed, they silently screamed, enduring a terrifying experience. The overwhelming power struck fear into their hearts.

“Your bodies are no longer your own. Engulfed in my flames, should you breathe a word of this or any future events to your families, you’ll burn before them like you're burning now.”

I glanced at His Highness, bewildered by his newfound power. He gazed back, as if he anticipated my unspoken question.

“It's from Bathala (God). He wants me to save this country.”

Then, he smiled coldly.

Oh, I almost forgot.

The Purple Topaz Order of House Benevolencia