The throne room, at the very heart of the palace, was an overwhelming display of opulence and intimidation. Black obsidian pillars, veined with silver, stretched towards a domed ceiling adorned with a mural depicting the Zenithara Empire's victories—a history of blood and conquest immortalized in paint and gold. The walls were lined with tall, arched windows, through which a cold, gray light filtered in, giving the room an eerily solemn glow. A colossal chandelier, crafted from dragon bone and imbued with enchanted fire, cast flickering shadows that made the stone carvings appear almost alive.

At the end of the long, carpeted walkway, elevated atop a massive dais, sat the Imperial Throne—a masterpiece forged from black steel and adorned with crimson gemstones, each one representing a fallen kingdom. It was a seat meant not just for a ruler but for a tyrant.

The air inside the throne room was stifling, not from heat but from the sheer weight of fear and expectation that crushed those who stood within it.

The great doors of the throne room groaned as they slowly swung open, revealing the silhouette of a tall, imposing figure. The moment the guards and nobles inside laid eyes upon him, they all bowed at once, their heads lowered with cold sweat forming at their brows.

A voice rang out through the chamber:

"The great, kind, and benevolent ruler of the West—His Majesty, Baek D. Zenithara—makes his entrance!"

The irony of those words was not lost on the courtiers. There was nothing kind nor benevolent about the man who now entered the room.

Baek D. Zenithara strode forward with the supreme confidence of a man who knew he was above all others. He was tall, his broad shoulders draped in dark velvet robes embroidered with gold, a crimson cape flowing behind him. His long black hair, streaked with strands of silver, cascaded down his back, framing his sharp, chiseled face. A well-groomed beard accentuated the harsh angles of his jawline, giving him the regal presence of an emperor not to be questioned.

Strapped to his side was a long, curved sword, its hilt adorned with rubies, its sheath engraved with the names of fallen kings—a symbol of the empires he had crushed.

His very presence was suffocating.

As he approached the throne, he did not glance at the nobles nor acknowledge their existence. To him, they were nothing more than insects fortunate enough to bask in his presence.

He reached his seat and, with a slow, deliberate motion, sat upon the throne of conquest, resting his elbow against the armrest and his chin upon his fist. His eyes, as cold and merciless as a winter storm, scanned the room with thinly veiled disdain.

Then, with an annoyed sigh, he uttered a single word:

"Arise."

The nobles and courtiers immediately stood, though none dared to meet his gaze directly.

Baek's eyes flickered to the side, landing on an aging noble who stood rigidly at attention.

"So, what is the reason behind this gathering, Duke Crapin? Can you tell?"

The trembling duke took a step forward, his finely embroidered robe barely concealing the way his hands quivered.

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty," Duke Crapin stammered, bowing deeply.

"Then speak."

Duke Crapin cleared his throat, doing his best to steady his voice.

"Your Majesty, the invasion of the Indrath Empire has gone very smoothl—"

"Get to the point, Duke Crapin," Baek D. Zenithara interrupted, his voice razor-sharp.

The duke flinched before quickly continuing.

"As you have heard, our forces were able to successfully conquer the Indrath Empire… however, the captured nobles who were locked in the prison rooms have somehow fled."

A heavy silence fell over the chamber.

The emperor's fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne. His expression remained unreadable, but the shift in atmosphere was unmistakable.

"You let prisoners escape?"

Duke Crapin swallowed hard.

"We are currently investigating how they managed to—"

Baek D. Zenithara leaned forward slightly, his piercing gaze drilling into the duke.

"Did you find any members of the Indrath royal family?"

The duke's throat went dry.

"N-No, Your Majesty. We… were unable to capture the Emperor and Empress of Indrath. They are still missing."

Baek D. Zenithara narrowed his eyes.

"And what of the prince? What was his name again? Ah… Ian Indrath. What of him?"

At the mention of the prince, Duke Crapin's knees nearly buckled.

"W-We could not locate him, Your Majesty. He… fled during the invasion."

The entire throne room felt the temperature drop.

The emperor's fingers stopped drumming.

For a long, excruciating moment, he said nothing.

Then—

"You can't even do a simple job properly?"

The venom in his tone made Duke Crapin's heart skip a beat.

"I specifically ordered that anyone of Indrath blood be secured. And yet, you let them escape?"

Baek D. Zenithara's voice did not rise, but the sheer disappointment and irritation in his words made it far more terrifying than if he had yelled.

The duke fell to his knees, his face pale.

"M-My lord, we—"

"Enough." The emperor waved his hand dismissively.

Then, in a tone as cold as death, he ordered:

"Find anyone related to the Indrath bloodline. And secure all records and documents from the royal palace of Indrath. I do not care how you do it. Just do it."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty!"

As Duke Crapin turned to return to his seat, the doors of the chamber burst open.

A messenger hurried inside, carrying a sealed letter. He rushed forward, bowing before handing the letter to the duke.

Duke Crapin carefully broke the seal and read the contents.

His pale, frightened face slowly twisted into something else.

A grin—one that dripped with sinister delight.

Then, in a voice almost too pleased, he said:

"My lord… The heavens did not betray us, it seems."