Thales stared at the black ring with an unpleasant expression—the Emperor of Poison's 'Triumph'. He did not know what to feel about this.
'That battle filled with so many changes with a twist at the end, and which could be said to be the battle that affects the fate of two countries actually...'
A few seconds later, he said with some difficulty, "So… is this how you…'triumphed' in the duel?"
King Nuven smiled slightly, his eyes showing a hint of sly pleasure.
"You're right. After all, it concerns such a large kingdom. What if there was an accident?" He repeated what Thales had said a while ago.
Thales' mind was a mess.
The elderly yet heroic and brave image of Nuven the Seventh that Thales had in his heart from the duel just now…
...was completely shattered.
It was replaced by the image of a shrewd and crafty old king, rotating his ring beneath the long table.
