The silence that followed Strax’s reply wasn’t immediately broken, but it also didn’t last long enough to become uncomfortable. It was a functional pause, where everyone had already understood the central point of the conversation and there was no need to reinforce it with more words. The atmosphere in the room remained stable, without excessive tension, but with a latent attentiveness that didn’t completely disappear. Each of them seemed comfortable in their own space, but still aware of everything around them.

It was in this context that a new knock sounded on the door.

This time, there was no hesitation or surprise. The sound was firm, controlled, three knocks with precise intervals, different from the previous ones, which in itself already indicated that it wasn’t a casual visit. Strax looked up immediately, and Scarlett tilted her head slightly, as if she had already identified the difference even before he reacted.

"This one isn’t trying to hide his presence," she commented, with slight interest.

Strax stood up unhurriedly, walking to the door with his usual pace. There was no exaggerated expectation in his expression, but there was a slight adjustment in the way he moved, as if he already knew that this moment had been delayed since their arrival.

He opened the door.

Outside, there was neither Derick, nor Shalom, nor Mythra.

It was another figure.

A man of straight posture, wearing a uniform more formal than functional, unlike the soldiers or observers they had sensed until now. There was no heavy armor, nor signs of recent combat. He was someone clearly designated for direct communication, but he didn’t seem weak. His presence was controlled, steady, and most importantly, there was no attempt at concealment.

He gave a slight bow of his head, respectful, but not submissive.

"I was sent to escort you," he said, directly, without unnecessary beating around the bush. "Your audience has been authorized."

Strax observed him for a second.

"Finally," he replied.

There was no smile, no exaggerated relief. It was more of an observation than anything else, as if this were simply the next logical step in a sequence that was already overdue.

The man nodded slightly, without reacting to the tone.

"If you are ready, please follow me," he continued.

Strax glanced over his shoulder into the room.

Scarlett was already standing, clearly interested, while Tiamat moved away from the wall, adjusting her posture with a slight sigh. Ouroboros simply nodded discreetly, as if she had been ready even before the knock on the door.

"Let’s go," said Strax, turning his attention to the man. "Lead the way."

The man turned immediately, without questioning, beginning to walk down the corridor with firm, measured steps. He didn’t look back often, indicating confidence that he would be followed, but he also didn’t speed up too much, maintaining a pace that allowed everyone to keep up effortlessly.

The group followed close behind.

The route was not the same one they had taken before. Instead of the wide, busier corridors that led to the palace’s public areas, they now advanced along more restricted paths, where the flow of people was less, but the presence of surveillance was even more evident. Not necessarily visible, but perceptible. The shadows remained busy, and now there was a clearer organization within them.

"They’re more attentive now," Tiamat commented in a low voice.

"Of course they are," Strax replied. "Now we’re relevant."

Scarlett let out a light laugh.

"You killed someone at dinner," she said. "That usually speeds things up."

Ouroboros walked silently, but her eyes moved constantly, analyzing every detail of the environment. The walls weren’t just structural; there were discreet inscriptions in some places, patterns that weren’t decorative, but functional. Magic, but not the explosive or offensive kind. It was something more... structural.

"This is reinforced," she said finally. "It’s not just architecture."

Strax nodded.

"I understand."

The man ahead didn’t interrupt the conversation, but it was clear he was listening. Still, he showed no reaction, indicating discipline or, at the very least, sufficient training not to interfere in something that didn’t concern him.

They continued advancing, and as the path deepened, the palace’s structure subtly changed. The spaces became larger, but not more open. It was as if the environment was being prepared for something specific, not for general circulation, but for controlled meetings.

"This place is strange," murmured Tiamat.

"It’s not strange," corrected Strax. "It’s too organized."

Scarlett tilted her head.

"You say that as if it were worse."

"It depends on what’s being organized," he replied.

The man finally stopped before a door.

Unlike the others, this one wasn’t just large or reinforced. There was something about it that didn’t need explaining. It wasn’t about size or material, but presence. The very structure seemed denser, more... defined.

He turned to the group.

"From here on, just follow my instructions," he said. "There will be no need for excessive formalities, but I recommend avoiding impulsive actions."

Scarlett smiled.

"Who exactly is this directed at?" she asked.

The man didn’t answer.

Strax stepped forward.

"Open it," he said.

The man nodded and placed his hand on the door’s surface.

There was no key.

There was no visible mechanism.

The door simply responded.

A low sound echoed through the structure, as if something internal was being unlocked on multiple levels simultaneously. It wasn’t mechanical, nor purely magical. It was a combination of both, working in sync.

The doors began to open slowly.

The space beyond them wasn’t immediately revealed, but as the opening widened, the light emanating from within began to spread through the corridor, not aggressively, but enough to completely alter the perception of the surrounding environment.

Strax didn’t wait.

He started walking.

The man didn’t try to stop him.

Scarlett came right beside him, with a more restrained smile now, but clearly interested. Tiamat followed close behind, keeping her gaze fixed ahead, while Ouroboros entered last, observing every detail of the transition.

As they crossed the threshold, the feeling changed.

It wasn’t just a new space.

It was another layer of that place.

The hall was spacious, but different from the previous one. There were no long tables, nor clusters of people. It was more open, but at the same time more controlled. The walls were not decorated; they were functional, with structures that clearly had a purpose beyond aesthetics.

The figure in the center of the hall needed no formal introduction to be understood, because his presence resolved that even before any word was spoken. He was not positioned imposingly in the traditional sense; there was no exaggerated throne elevated by endless steps, nor guards lined up around him to reinforce his authority. Yet, everything in that space seemed to orbit around him naturally, as if the environment itself had been built to accommodate his existence, and not the other way around.

He sat in a relaxed manner, resting his face in one hand, his elbow on the arm of a structure that could only be called a throne for convenience. His posture did not convey carelessness, but neither did it demonstrate any effort to maintain a specific image. It was the kind of relaxation that only someone completely secure in their position could sustain without appearing vulnerable. His long, almost silvery-white hair fell loosely over his shoulders and back, some strands following the gentle movement of the air in that space, as if they had a life of their own.

His eyes, however, were the most striking feature. Not for their color, but for the way they observed. There was no hurry, no immediate judgment, but also no distraction. It was a gaze that seemed to pierce through layers, as if analyzing not only what was visible, but also what was not being shown. He didn’t move when Strax entered, didn’t change position, didn’t adjust his posture. He simply... observed.

The clothes he wore followed the same pattern as his presence: elegant, but without exaggeration. Fabrics of evident quality, with subtle details that indicated status without the need for direct ostentation. There were accessories, rings, small ornaments, but nothing seemed chosen to draw attention in isolation. Everything worked as a whole, a controlled composition that reinforced the idea of ​​someone who didn’t need to prove anything.

Behind him, partially integrated into the structure where he sat, was something that wasn’t merely decorative. A form, almost like an organic sculpture, resembling horns or draconic structures, but not completely defined. It wasn’t possible to tell if it was part of the environment, a manifestation of power, or something in between. But it was there, and it contributed to the feeling that this wasn’t just a man sitting in a room.

Strax stopped a few meters ahead, maintaining a distance that wasn’t submissive, but also wasn’t invasive. He didn’t cross his arms, didn’t show impatience, but also didn’t make any gesture of reverence. He simply stood there, observing back with the same calm he had maintained from the beginning.

Scarlett stood beside him, a slight smile still present, but now more restrained, more attentive. Tiamat maintained a firm posture, her gaze direct, clearly assessing not only the man but the entire space around her. Ouroboros, on the other hand, remained a little further back, his eyes moving slowly among the details, absorbing everything with that silent attention that had become characteristic.

The man finally moved.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, nor a sudden change. He simply removed the support of his hand from his face slightly, straightening his posture a little, enough to indicate that he was, in fact, engaging with their presence more directly. His fingers still held a small container, possibly a cup, but he didn’t drink. He simply kept the object there, as if it were irrelevant.

His eyes focused directly on Strax.

And then he spoke.

"So it’s you."

His voice wasn’t loud, but it filled the space easily. There was no exaggerated echo, no artificial reverberation, yet it seemed to reach every corner of the hall effortlessly. It was clear, controlled, and carried a naturalness that contrasted with the weight of the situation.

Strax inclined his head slightly, not in respect, but in acknowledgment of the words.

"I imagine so," he replied, in his usual steady tone. "Unless you’re expecting someone else."

The man held his gaze for a few seconds, without immediately reacting to the answer. There was no irritation, no evident amusement, just a continuous process of analysis, as if fitting pieces into a larger picture.

"No," he said finally. "You match what I was described."

Scarlett chuckled softly beside Strax, crossing her arms.

"I hope they spoke well," she commented.

The Emperor’s gaze shifted briefly to her, assessing her slowly, before returning to Strax.

"It depends on the point of view," he replied. Tiamat let out a small sigh through her nose, clearly unimpressed by the response.

"They like to talk too much," she said, in a low but audible tone.

The Emperor didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. On the contrary, his attention expanded slightly, including everyone present more clearly.

"That’s inevitable when something new arises," he said. "Especially when that ’something’ alters the existing balance."

Strax took a step forward, closing the distance slightly, but without haste.

"If that balance depended on things I could knock down, then it wasn’t so stable after all," he replied.

There was a short pause.

This time, unlike before, there was something more to it.

The Emperor tilted his head slightly to the side, as if considering the response with more interest than before.

"That’s a straightforward way of looking at the situation," he said. "But not necessarily incorrect." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Scarlett raised an eyebrow.

"Was that a compliment?" she asked.

"It was an observation," he replied, without taking his eyes off Strax.

Silence returned, but this time it wasn’t just analysis.

It was recognition.

The Emperor rested his arm on the structure beside him again, but without fully returning to his initial relaxed posture. There was a slight change there, subtle, but perceptible to anyone paying attention.

"You arrived, made an immediate impact, killed two monarchs, seized territories, and yet you came here as a guest," he continued. "That’s not common."

Strax shrugged slightly.

"I was invited," he said. "It would be rude not to show up."

Scarlett smiled.

"He has his polite moments," she added.

The Emperor ignored the comment, or chose not to react to it.

"And what do you want?" he asked directly.

No beating around the bush.

No preparation.

The question hung in the air, simple, but loaded.

Strax didn’t answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the Emperor, as if assessing not only the question, but the context in which it was asked.

"It depends," he said finally. "On what you want. Have you forgotten? You invited me, not the other way around."