Chapter Three

Before the morning mist had even dissipated, the Eternal Throne Plaza was already ablaze with rage. It was a meticulously planned "spontaneous" movement; for three whole days, the front page of the Imperial Daily was filled with articles that dissected my daily routines over the past fifty years. In their writing, my posture of standing atop the clouds overlooking the capital became the most nauseating symbol of greed. On the morning of the fifth day, over fifty thousand citizens swarmed like ants, filling every inch of the land beneath the fortress. Holding torches, they chanted unified and synchronized slogans, their voices like tangible thunderclaps piercing the three thousand feet of void, pounding against the fortress's cracked outer walls.

"Get down! Return the food you've devoured to the Empire!"

" Savior ? No, that's a parasite perched on our heads!"

The magically enhanced catapults in the plaza began to operate. The stones were carved with imprisoning runes, each capable of piercing through rock. The first wave of bombardment began; the reinforced glass of the western suspended corridor instantly turned to dust. Immediately afterward, a massive boulder crashed into a load-bearing pillar near the terrace, causing the entire fortress to shake violently as if subjected to some ancient punishment.

"My lord! The defensive barrier! Without it, the fortress's foundation will be utterly destroyed!" Aldrich's voice was almost a plea; he tried to grab my arm, trembling with fear. "Activating the barrier will at least buy the Queen's negotiating team some time!"

I instinctively pressed my right eye, where a throbbing, needle-like electric shock was emanating—the lingering "void remnant" that had haunted me since the mirror shattered last night. Deep within my amber pupils, a gray vortex was trying to seize my vision. I bit my tongue hard, using the taste of blood to forcefully suppress the instinct to corrode everything back into the abyss.

"Darius, come down—!"

My gaze swept across the corridor, through the shaky reinforced glass, looking down. I let the falling rubble sting my face. I looked down at the horrified crowd below, at the descendants of those I had once protected, or those whom I had protected, now begging for battle as sacrificial offerings. If I activated the barrier, would it be defense? No, it would be a declaration to the entire capital: the savior under the heavens sees these unarmed citizens as enemies.

I shook my head, stopping Aldrick from taking any further action.

“Once the barrier is activated, the remaining spiritual energy will be instantly depleted.” My voice sounded so hollow in the cold wind of the hall. “I do not intend to ignite this last ember to prolong my life.”

The change happened extremely abruptly.

A huge stone struck the Imperial Flagpole high on the outer wall of the fortress. The flag, symbolizing that the Empire had never been touched by the Void for fifty years, let out a mournful cry in mid-air before snapping. The flag fell like a setting sun, and at the same time, another stone struck with perfect accuracy the edge of the terrace less than three feet from my side. Stone fragments shattered, a sharp shard of rock grazing my cheek like a knife, instantly staining my temple crimson with blood.

At that moment, it wasn't just anger, but a call from the abyss.

Suppressed by the long-term lack of the Soul Elixir, my forcibly suppressed instincts were forcibly awakened by this excruciating pain. Without thinking, my right hand shot out like lightning, and in my palm, the "Blade of the Sky," dormant for fifty years, suddenly coalesced. It was a pure arc of psionic energy, the light of death that had once forced the Void Queen to retreat. My intention was merely to intimidate; I had calculated its trajectory—the blade would sweep across the crowd's heads at a distance of three hundred feet, destroying the catapults behind them and forcing them to retreat in fear.

But the instant I exerted my power, the dried-up sea of psionic energy within my body erupted into a violent internal struggle. The once steady blade of light trembled fatally due to the depletion of its psionic energy supply, its trajectory swerving downwards by ten feet.

It was a deafening roar that silenced the entire capital.

I watched as the erratic blade of light easily sliced through the pure white marble pedestal of the statue of Emperor Alfred. The statue, a symbol of fifty years of imperial peace, seemed to come alive for a moment, shaking violently before collapsing with a devastating force amidst the terrified screams of the crowd.

The square utterly crumbled.

Huge shards of marble rained down on the crowd like hailstones, exploding in a cloud of blood. I stood three thousand feet in the air, watching helplessly as it transformed into a bloodbath. The magic mirror's lens captured this moment with astonishing efficiency; it even zoomed in, piecing together the instant the statue collapsed with my right hand still suspended in mid-air, creating a perfect piece of evidence.

A march leader was pinned beneath the Emperor's head. He was that infant, the infant who had trembled in my arms, now the most ironic commentary on this tragedy. He didn't even have time to cry for help before his life ended beneath the rubble. But everyone in the square only saw me—the former guardian—who had personally destroyed their most revered banner and idol.

The Empress's reaction was terrifyingly fast, as if it had all been rehearsed. Within thirty seconds, Iserline's figure appeared in the sky. She wore the shadow dress that represented the supreme power of the empire, her face bearing just the right amount of grief and resolve.

" Savior Darius Ironheart, today has utterly fallen into ruin as a calamity for the empire." Her voice echoed in every magical mirror, cold and clear, "He wantonly desecrated the portrait of the Holy Emperor and disregarded the lives of his citizens. From this day forward, he is permanently stripped of his titles, honors, and powers. The Twelve Statues, immediately take over the fortress and bring this former hero to justice."

I stood on the terrace, listening to the deafening curses outside, watching the young man's bones gradually grow cold in the dust, yet I felt no anger whatsoever.

Aldrick slumped against the door, staring at the perfect frame-up in the mirror, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible: "My lord... someone deliberately lured us into action. That stone, that flag, and that speaker who died at the crucial moment... it was all a trap."

I slowly closed my eyes, the blood on my cheek dried, leaving a dark red mark.

"I know," I said simply, almost coldly, "I know."

But I had no intention of exposing him. In this world, there must always be a sacrifice to open the door that is destined to be opened.

I turned away, ignoring the deafening clamor of defection outside, and walked alone to the deepest part of the fortress—the armory. It was a place I hadn't set foot in since the war fifty years ago. Dust obscured the old blades, but the memories of fighting side by side writhed in the shadows. I stood before the display case, my fingertips gently tracing the long-lost blade.

“Elena…” I murmured softly to the air, as if asking the most distant of the dead, “If I choose to destroy this empire, is that a betrayal of us?”

There was no answer. The only response was the increasingly strong, void-like smell of sulfur in the air, and the succubus’s greedy, shrill laughter from the depths of the shadows, as if celebrating my fall into the abyss.