Su Li tightened his grip on the greatsword. He noticed that the armor's rhythm of movement had changed. It was no longer in an attacking stance—it was retreating.
One step, two steps, three steps.
The armor backed up the stairs one step at a time, its metal boots crushing the granite beneath them.
Su Li did not pursue.
He saw where the armor was retreating—the gilded throne deep within the main hall.
"I've done plenty of foolish things in my life." The old prince's voice grew more distant. "But a throne cannot be handed over on bended knee. I take back none of those words."
The armor's right palm faced downward and slammed into a recessed rune slot beneath the throne's armrest.
The sound of metal biting into stone echoed through the empty hall.
A dull tremor suddenly traveled up through the soles of Su Li's feet.
It was not the sort of vibration caused by the armor stomping the ground. It came from deep underground, shaking the very foundations of the entire royal palace.
His Sword Spirit Root reacted at once—every hair on his body stood on end.
The enormous energy-supplying array he had sensed dozens of meters beneath the palace had changed the flow of its aether.
It had originally drawn inward from the outside, gathering the aether beneath the royal capital into the heart of the palace to power the armor and its various defenses.
Now, it had reversed.
All the aether accumulated over centuries was surging outward from the center of the palace.
"Have you gone mad?!" Su Li shouted toward the interior of the main hall.
The old prince answered with a fit of broken, intermittent laughter.
"Young man, this old fool wagered his life against you—and lost. When you lose, you pay the price.