Why Am I The Villain?! Reincarnated in My Favorite Novel-Chapter 39: Thorns of Empire: The Purge Declared

The Supreme Council chamber, perched on the 50th floor of Joranis’s Imperial Tower, glowed with the bluish light of holographic screens. Emperor Achalon IV, clad in a tailored black suit, stared down his ministers around a glass table. To his left, his younger son, Prince Kaelis, 19, hands clasped on his knees, watched data scroll across his tablet. To his right, his elder son, Prince Varen, 24, sat with a neutral gaze.

The Minister of the Interior adjusted his clear-framed glasses before projecting a report onto the central screen. Images of burning buildings and bodies draped in sheets littered the streets.

"The Fjord and Volga families have been wiped out. Their leaders were found ’suicided.’ The Dark Hands now control 60% of the drug trade. Their flagship product, Crimson Eclipse, matches the compound used in the Damos terrorist attack five months ago."

The Minister of Defense clenched her fist. "Those bastards replicated the Damos neurotoxin? They want to repeat that massacre here?!" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

The Emperor shot to his feet, his wheelchair slamming into the wall behind him. "How long have you known this poison was circulating in my country?!"

The Minister of the Interior paled. "The Dark Hands have infiltrated our intelligence services. Their backers—"

A cold laugh cut him off. Velina of House Triss, the sole representative of the old nobility on the Council, crossed her silk-clad legs, her tunic embroidered with dragon motifs.

"Your corrupt politicians let the Underground fester. And now you scapegoat the historic families? Ever since the Emperor stripped our titles to play democrat..."

Achalon slammed the table, rattling water glasses. "You forget your place, Velina. If your networks hadn’t funded the mafia for decades, we wouldn’t be here!"

Prince Kaelis cleared his throat softly, drawing eyes.

The Emperor turned to him, his expression softening slightly. "Kaelis. You’ve studied the reports. What do you propose?"

The prince tilted his head, avoiding Velina’s burning stare. "The Dark Hands exploit our divisions. Dissolving the remaining families would deprive them of rivals, but..." He hesitated, weighing each word. "...it could also unite the Underground against us. Perhaps we should target their Crimson Eclipse supply. Without the drug, their power collapses."

Achalon grimaced, his son’s caution grating on him. He snapped his head toward his elder son, his gaze sharp as a blade, piercing Prince Varen, still as stone to his right.

"Varen!" he thundered, pounding the glass table again, startling several ministers. "You’ve sat silent as a rock this entire meeting. Speak! Or have you lost your tongue?!"

Prince Varen, dressed in a black military uniform with gold epaulettes, slowly raised his eyes. His face, carved from impassive marble, betrayed no emotion. His steel-gray eyes swept the room before locking onto his father.

"The surviving mafia families are tumors. Dissolving them isn’t enough. They must be exterminated. Root and branch."

An electric silence gripped the room. Somewhere, a water glass, knocked over by the table’s jolt, rolled to the edge, its crystalline clink amplified by the tense atmosphere.

Velina of House Triss let out a shrill laugh, shattering the spell. "So this is the Empire’s heir! A butcher in a suit who speaks only the language of blood!" Her hand, adorned with a jade dragon signet ring, pointed at Varen with contempt. "You think the Underground will let you slaughter them like lambs? You’ll spark a war far crueler than—"

"Silence!" Achalon roared, pointing a trembling finger at Velina.

The Minister of the Interior, sweat beading on his brow, tried to interject: "Majesty, perhaps a more... nuanced approach. If we—"

"Nuanced?!" The Emperor stood tall, towering over the assembly. "Crimson Eclipse killed thirty thousand in Damos!" His voice cracked, a flicker of pain breaking through his rage. "And now this filth threatens Joranis itself. Your nuance reeks of cowardice."

Prince Kaelis, seated to his father’s left, clutched his tablet to his chest. His fingers whitened on the touchscreen displaying molecular diagrams of the neurotoxin. He opened his mouth to speak but froze under Achalon’s dark glare.

Varen hadn’t moved an inch. He continued, monotone: "The Dark Hands infiltrated our services because we tolerated parasites. The Fjord and Volga families are dead? Good riddance. Let’s finish the job."

The Minister of Defense leapt to her feet. "Exterminating the families means declaring war on the entire Underground! Our troops are already stretched thin monitoring the stellar borders. If we—"

"Our troops will obey," Varen cut in, slowly turning his head toward her.

Velina, pale with fury, stood, her dragon-embroidered tunic tearing with her sharp movement.

"Do you hear this?!" she shouted at the other councilors. "This fanatic wants to turn the Empire into a slaughterhouse! And you’ll all follow like sheep to the butcher?!"

The Emperor struck the table again, so hard a crack zigzagged across the tempered glass. "Enough! I’ve carried this Empire on my back for forty years. I’ve negotiated, forgiven, understood. And look where it’s gotten us."

He turned to Varen. "My son is right. Weakness breeds chaos."

Kaelis stiffened. "Father..."

But Achalon had made up his mind. He declared, his voice booming: "By imperial decree, all remaining mafia families will be dissolved. Their assets seized, their members executed. Deploy the Ritters and purge the Underground district by district. Any resistance will be crushed."

The Minister of Finance, hands trembling over his laptop, stammered: "But the markets... the economic disruptions..."

"Markets rebuild," Achalon growled. "Corpses don’t."

Velina sneered and stood. "Fine. Play your vengeful gods. But mark my words... the Underground’s roots run deeper than your arrogant tower. You’ve just awakened what should have stayed dormant."

She pulled out a pen-shaped e-cigarette, took a long drag of vapor, and added: "When the sewers spill into your golden streets, don’t say Velina Triss didn’t warn you."

With that, she stormed out.

The Emperor ignored her exit. "Minister of Defense, mobilize the necessary forces. Minister of the Interior, seize all files on the noble families. Prince Varen..." He paused, studying his elder son. "You will oversee the military operations."

Varen nodded slightly, a mere tilt of the head. "As you command."

Kaelis, casting caution aside, half-stood. "Father, I beg you... Crimson Eclipse is just a symptom. If we don’t address the cause—"

"The cause," Achalon interrupted, staring at the holographic images of corpses, "is the moral rot of those who think they can defy my authority. You’d do well to learn that, Kaelis."

The younger prince lowered his eyes, but not before a flash of defiance crossed his gaze.

---

Hours later – Hanging Gardens of the Imperial Tower

Prince Kaelis wandered among the lilies.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Varen.

"What game are you playing, exactly?" Kaelis asked without preamble, idly brushing a lily that retracted at his touch.

Varen stopped two meters away. "I obey. As you should."

Kaelis turned to face him. "Obey? Or seize the chance to cement your power?" He stepped closer. "These purges... the Ritterheim answers to you now, doesn’t it?"

A ghost of a smile flickered on Varen’s lips. "You’ve always been too clever for your own good."

A security drone buzzed overhead, its red eye scanning the gardens. The brothers fell silent until it passed.

"They’ll use Crimson Eclipse in retaliation," Kaelis whispered. "It’s not just a drug. The compound triggers latent brain modifications. In Damos, victims turned into humanoid monsters."

"Then we’ll kill fast enough to stop them from using it."

"You see enemies everywhere," Kaelis sighed. "But some could be allies. Not all the Underground families are—"

"Weakness," Varen murmured. His left eye twitched faintly, betraying a rare hint of emotion. "You bore me, Kaelis."

With that, Varen walked away without a backward glance.

Kaelis stood alone, hands trembling.

---

Later – Imperial Tower loudspeakers echoed across every district of Joranis

Emperor Achalon IV stood at the center of the Throne Room, a vast chamber with walls encrusted with luminescent crystals casting silver reflections on his ceremonial armor. A fleet of camera drones hovered before him, capturing every detail of his face. Giant screens across the Empire broadcast his image live. Billions of eyes were fixed on him.

Achalon raised a gloved hand, and silence fell over the Empire. His voice, amplified, rumbled like thunder.

"People of Joranis, sons and daughters of the Empire!" His gravelly voice shattered the quiet. "We live in a time of darkness."

Citizens froze. In a bourgeois parlor, a wineglass trembled in an aristocrat’s hand. In a bar, traffickers forgot their drinks. On a military base, soldiers held their breath.

"For too long, we’ve tolerated the vermin gnawing at our foundations. Traitors lurking in the shadows have poisoned our streets with vice. They conspire to topple this Tower, the symbol of our unity!"

He paused, his piercing gaze fixed on an unseen point. The drones zoomed in on his eyes.

"That time is over. By my decree, I order the complete purge of these thugs. No more compromises for the sake of foolish balance! Every criminal, every major mafia organization, will be hunted, their assets seized, their members executed. The imperial light will descend into the slums to deliver justice. All resistance will be crushed. All betrayal, punished."

Communication networks were already ablaze.

Achalon continued, his voice rising.

"To those who whisper in the shadows, I say this: the Empire will not bend. We will rebuild a pure, strong future on the ashes of corruption. Let the traitors tremble, for Joranis’s wrath descends upon them!"

He struck his breastplate with his fist, and the image froze on that gesture, looping across every screen. Then the drones powered down, and the Emperor left the room without a word. Behind him, advisors and officers exchanged tense glances. The Empire was in turmoil.