The words hit the room like a bolt of lightning. Every eye in the chamber widened, shock rippling through the crowd. Some gazes brimmed with suspicion, others with fear. Yet, a select few remained eerily calm, their expressions unreadable, as if this moment had been anticipated all along. Among them were Leo, Charlotte, Edward, and Jack Tosma, the lord of Cider City. They already knew why someone from the Red Moon Empire had come.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then, Kaylor stepped forward, breaking the stillness. "Your Majesty, this fool calls himself a knight, but he knows neither courtesy nor how a knight should behave. Please, allow me to dismiss him. His life is already a waste."
"No, it's okay, Kaylor," Leo interjected in a soft tone, his calm voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze shifted to the knight. "Next time, be careful," he said, his tone firm but measured. "Bring the representative of the Red Moon Empire here. After all, they are still the strongest empire in the whole world."
The knight bowed his head in acknowledgment, shame flickering across his face, and silently retreated to the place from which he had come.
"Your Excellency—" Charlotte began, her voice steady but tinged with urgency.
Leo, however, raised his hand, a subtle yet commanding gesture that stopped her mid-sentence. His gaze remained fixed on the entrance, his expression unreadable.
Leo gestured for Edward to begin, and he spoke about the peace proposal from the Red Moon Empire. As he finished, most of the audience expressed their agreement, though a few remained hesitant.
"Speak your minds freely," Leo said, his voice calm yet commanding. "I am here to listen."
Hazara was the first to rise, his voice filled with indignation. "Why should we entertain a peace treaty with demons? Those who worship devils!" he exclaimed, his eyes blazing with conviction. "There can be no peace with such blasphemers! Our gods will forsake us and bring their wrath upon us!"
Only a handful of priests and council representatives nodded in agreement with Hazara's fiery declaration, their expressions grim and resolute.
Leo threw his head back and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Ha! Worship devils? Can't make peace? Fear of God's wrath?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. Fixing Hazara with an intense gaze, he added, "You... You've never set foot on a battlefield in your entire life, have you? How could you possibly comprehend what true wrath looks like?"
Hazara and the council members bristled, ready to retort to Leo's cutting words. But before they could speak, the royal doors creaked open with a thunderous echo. All eyes turned as a tall, lean, yet powerfully built figure stepped into the chamber
Upon entering the grand throne room alongside the knights, a man stepped forward, draped in a flowing black-over-brown coat that seemed to ripple like liquid shadows in the dim torchlight. His skin, a pristine white luminous as moonlight on snow, gave him an unearthly aura, while his hair, cascading in waves of vibrant purple, framed his face with striking brilliance. Sharp, emerald-green eyes glimmered with an inscrutable depth, and his aquiline nose lent him an air of quiet authority. Yet it was the single, slender horn rising gracefully from his forehead—a symbol of ancient and enigmatic power—that truly held every gaze.
Despite his commanding presence, the man was unarmed; no blade, not even the whisper of a concealed dagger, adorned him. His disarmament was as deliberate as it was unsettling, a silent challenge to those who might question his resolve. With measured grace, he lowered his head in a respectful bow, a gesture that carried both humility and unspoken defiance, leaving the air in the chamber heavy with unanswered questions.
Leo gestured with a subtle flick of his hand, and the man raised his head with regal composure. His voice, smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of authority, echoed through the chamber as he spoke.
"I am Cleavaan, the Third Demon Lord of the Red Moon Empire," he declared, his emerald eyes locking onto the throne with unyielding confidence. "Your Highness, I come before you not as a conqueror but as a herald of hope. I bring forth the proposal of a peace treaty—one that may forge a better future for both our empires."
His words hung in the air, a daring juxtaposition of power and diplomacy, as the weight of his intentions pressed upon all present.
"So, Cleavaan, what is the Red Moon Empire planning? Why the sudden desire for a peace treaty, out of nowhere?" Leo's voice was sharp, his gaze unwavering as it bore into Cleavaan.
Cleavaan met his scrutiny with calm resolve, his emerald-green eyes unflinching. "It seems there is a misunderstanding of our intentions, Your Highness," he said, his tone measured yet firm. "The Red Moon Empire has always sought a peace treaty. From the very beginning of this war, our goal has been to end the bloodshed.
"In total, we have come forth with proposals of peace eight times throughout history. And eight times, our ambassadors were met not with diplomacy, but with death. Each attempt was cut short by betrayal. Yet, we come again, hoping your rule will be differen. —hoping your reign will mark the dawn of something greater."
His words carried the weight of centuries of animosity, his gaze unwavering, as if daring Leo to rise above the failures of the past.
Leo's voice rang out with unyielding authority, each word reverberating through the chamber like a thunderclap. "Do not worry," he declared, his piercing gaze fixed on Cleavaan. "Under my rule, even the gods will think twice before daring to harm you."
The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of his proclamation hanging thick in the air. The priests, seated along the edges of the throne room, turned to Leo in a swift, collective motion, their expressions a volatile mix of shock and fury. Some clutched their prayer beads tighter, while others whispered among themselves, their voices laced with disbelief and outrage.
Leo, unfazed by their reaction, remained resolute, his gaze never leaving Cleavaan. His words were not meant to soothe the priests' egos, but to stake his claim as a ruler who would bow to no power—mortal or divine.
"Your Highness, I am truly honored to stand before you," Cleavaan said, his voice rich with sincerity, yet laced with the quiet confidence of one who knew the weight of his presence.
"So, Cleavaan," Leo began, his voice steady and commanding, "first, tell us plainly what we stand to gain from this peace treaty. Only then will we entertain the terms under which these benefits will be delivered."
His gaze was sharp, his tone leaving no room for ambiguity, a clear sign that negotiations would proceed on his terms alone.
Cleavaan stepped forward, his voice calm yet unwavering as he began to speak.
"We offer to return all the lands we once occupied, restoring them fully to your empire's control. In addition, we will provide food supplies—sugar, salt, rice, wheat, corn, jab, and soybeans—amounting to 120,000 metric tons in total. Furthermore, we pledge a sum of 3 trillion gold coins to solidify this treaty."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing, his emerald eyes glinting with resolve.
"However, in return, we have one condition. We want the Church of Hastia eradicated from your empire. Their existence is a thorn in the path of peace, and we believe removing them is crucial for the future we both seek."
The air grew heavy with tension as Cleavaan's words hung in the silence, their meaning as bold as the challenge they posed.
Stepping forward from the line, a man clad in light silver armor took his place before the throne. His figure was imposing, with a muscular build that spoke of countless battles fought and won. His age showed in the lines etched upon his face, but it only added to the aura of experience and authority that surrounded him.
This was Abird Japson, the renowned Lord of Riverlot City. With a respectful nod, he gave a slight bow, his voice steady and formal as he addressed the throne. "Your Majesty, if you would allow me to speak."
Leo's piercing gaze fell upon him, measuring the man's intent for a moment before giving a curt nod of permission. "You may speak, Lord Japson," he said, his voice calm yet firm.
"The Holy Empire of Ausha exists because of the Church of Hastia," Abird Japson began, his voice resonating with the weight of history. "Our empire was built upon their teachings, their faith, and their guidance. For centuries, the Church has wielded authority equal to that of the council members themselves.
"But things have changed. The war with the Red Moon Empire, which began two thousand years ago in the name of the gods, has left us battered and broken. Humanity now stands at the edge of its endurance, clinging to survival. If we are to ensure a peaceful future, we must preserve what remains of the empire—our empire, founded on the unity of council rules and church decrees."
He paused, his gaze sweeping the room, as if daring someone to challenge his words. "Yet, I must ask—why have we not adapted? Why didn't we change the rules when the world began to change? If the church and council are truly committed to safeguarding humanity, it is my suggestion that we reconsider the structures of power we so blindly cling to. Change may be the only path to survival."
His words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of both reverence and defiance, daring the throne room to confront the truths he laid bare.
Leo silently agreed, his expression unreadable as Abird's words echoed in his mind.
Before anyone else could speak, Hazara stepped forward, his face flushed with outrage. "Are you insane?" he thundered. "These are the sacred rules of the gods! To question them is blasphemy!"
One of the council representatives suddenly stood and spoke, his voice sharp and resolute. "Yes! We, the council, cannot agree to such a preposterous proposal!"
Another chimed in, his tone filled with disdain. "The Lord of Riverlot City certainly has some nerve to speak like that! How dare he challenge us and question our authority?"
Before the tension could settle, Priest Harry raised his voice, surprising the room. "And why shouldn't we consider working with the demons?" he said, his words slicing through the uproar like a blade. "Perhaps it is time we question our assumptions rather than cling to traditions that no longer serve us."
The room fell into a stunned silence, the weight of his words pressing upon everyone present.
Hazara immediately turned to Harry, his eyes blazing with fury, a deathly glare that could have silenced lesser men. Then, with a sharp motion, he directed his gaze toward Leo and the silent ministers who had yet to utter a word.
"Look around, everyone!" Hazara exclaimed, his voice trembling with both anger and conviction. "Demons worship the Devil! The Devil seeks nothing but the destruction of humanity. This so-called peace is his revenge—a vile scheme! He cannot come directly to destroy us because our gods protect us from above. Do you truly believe the gods will look favorably upon us if we sign a peace treaty with their enemies?"
Leo's face remained unreadable, betraying no emotion. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, anger bubbled like boiling water, threatening to spill over.
"Damn those nobles, councils, and priests!" Leo thought to himself, his mind simmering with frustration. "If this continues, there's no way I can move forward with the peace treaty."
The room erupted into a cacophony of voices as everyone began talking at once, their heated arguments filling the chamber. Amid the chaos, the ambassador turned his gaze toward Leo, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity, silently awaiting the Leo's next move.
Amid the uproar, Charlotte stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding. "You all stand in the presence of the great Emperor Leo!" he declared, his tone silencing the room. "Know your place!"
Turning to Leo, he bowed slightly before continuing, his voice steady and confident. "My highest, I have a suggestion," he began. "Why not remove the council and the church from the negotiations entirely? Let them focus solely on ending the war. We don't need resources, land, or money. Peace alone should be our condition."
His words hung in the air, daring anyone to challenge his bold proposition.
Leo turned his gaze toward Cleavaan and asked, "Does the Red Moon Empire approve of this?"
" Your Majesty, the war exists only because of these so-called councils and self-proclaimed priests. Secondly, we have never worshipped the Devil! We have always sought peace. However, this peace treaty you speak of will not benefit us—in fact, it will be our loss. If you refuse to sign the treaty, our side will have no choice but to continue this meaningless war, and in the end, it will be your empire that suffers the greatest loss." Cleavaan's voice was firm, his gaze unwavering.
"It seems we cannot sign the peace treaty," Leo said with a painful smile, his voice heavy with regret. Inside, he felt the sting of failure, a deep sense of uselessness as an emperor. Even after ascending to the throne, I still can't change the things I've always dreamed of changing, he thought bitterly. Defeat weighed heavily on him, but he refused to let it show.
At last, Leo straightened his posture, his eyes burning with resolve. "A knight always fights until the very end," he declared firmly.
Hearing this, Cleavaan nodded solemnly and stepped back, ready to leave the Ausha Empire.
Haraza, along with the council representatives and their nobles, moved to stop Cleavaan. However, a sudden wave of immense spiritual pressure rooted them in place. The air grew heavy, almost suffocating, as they turned to see the source.
Leo's eyes burned a fierce yellow, radiating raw fury. His piercing gaze alone was a warning, but his hand hovered dangerously close to his weapon. The message was clear—if anyone dared to act, they would face his wrath without mercy.
Cleavaan felt the overwhelming pressure but kept walking, leaving the throne room behind. Soon, he found himself in the royal soldier assembly hall. Without hesitation, he took to the skies, flying at such an incredible speed that no knight could keep track of his movements.
As he soared through the air, his thoughts churned, reflecting on the events.
We, the demon lords and our king, have always known that you desired peace more than anyone else in this war. But as the king once said, you will ultimately fail in your quest for peace. And we also know exactly who truly craves this war the most.
After Cleavaan's departure, Leo dismissed the royal assembly, choosing to postpone the matter of the experiment for another time.
By evening, he sat on the sofa in his private chambers, the quiet of the room a stark contrast to the earlier tension. His gaze frequently shifted to Vaeloria, who remained still, her presence delicate and doll-like. With care, Leo personally fed her, a tender act he kept hidden from the world.
After the sun had set, Leo approached the window, his eyes drawn to the fading light. Suddenly, a bird feather drifted into view, landing softly beside the window. Curiosity piqued, he reached out and picked it up.
The moment he touched the feather, a voice echoed in his mind.
"Thank you for your efforts. Be careful, the traitor is within you. But I cannot say more... Why am I helping you? You will understand on the battlefield. As for who I am... I am the Fifth Demon King, known to all as Dons."
"The Demon King? Should I feel honored, or should I be frightened by you?" Leo mumbled to himself, his brow furrowed in thought. "A traitor, huh? I wonder who it really is..."