In the imperial palace hall, tens of thousands of lamps and candles dimmed in unison. After the hall was plunged into darkness for an instant, the flames suddenly blazed brighter, as though they were ready to burn themselves out to bring dawn to this strange, gloomy night.
Wax tears piled up like mountains, while sword light shone as brilliantly as stars.
The numb, stiff expressions of the mutants froze in place. Then, bloody marks appeared across their bodies, and they broke apart and scattered across the floor like toppled building blocks.
The candle flames sealed their wounds at just the right moment, preventing the infectious blood from spilling everywhere. The sickening stench of scorched flesh made the Greek nobles struggle to keep their eyes open.
"Is it over?"
"Heavenly Father above, that was terrifying."
As they looked at those monsters being slaughtered like grass, they felt both relief at having escaped death and a sense of sorrow for those who had met the same fate. So many high-ranking nobles had been silently corrupted, then ruthlessly purged without leaving a trace.
A flash of light cleaved the darkness; radiant brilliance shattered the gloomy night.
Lageia recalled the maxim Van Helsing Geralt had engraved upon his sword guard in the stories of The Witcher. It could not have been more fitting here.
"Will you surrender?"
Vivianna looked at the usurper standing amid the chunks of corpses and lightly raised her blade.
Pisistratus revealed a bitter smile. The Witch had given him immense power, allowing him to secretly control more than half the ministers at court. He had thought that was already an incomparably formidable force.
"I never expected that some unknown female swordsman under Lothar would possess such terrifying strength. No wonder Your Majesty was willing to place her bet on you."