The royal throne room was silent.

Heavy tension hung in the air.

Rows of nobles, generals, ministers, and high-ranking officials stood on both sides of the grand hall. No one dared speak carelessly.

At the end of the room sat King Alden.

Though illness had reduced him to a shadow of the man he once was, the king’s presence remained unchanged.

His body had become thin.

His face was pale.

His silver hair had lost much of its former luster.

Yet the moment he sat upon the throne, no one could mistake him for anything other than a king.

His gaze remained sharp. His back remained straight.

The authority he carried through decades of ruling had not faded.

Beside the throne stood Duke Charles.

Near him was Virtil, the kingdom’s strongest remaining protector.

The old knight stood quietly with his hands behind his back.

His expression was calm, but everyone knew he was one of the few pillars still supporting the kingdom.

Alden slowly looked across the hall.

His eyes swept over every face.

Then he spoke.

"As all of you know, the monster army has begun its march toward the capital."

His voice was weaker than before, but it still carried throughout the throne room.

No one interrupted.

The king continued.

"The outer defensive lines have fallen."

"The western armies have been destroyed."

"The eastern armies have been scattered."

"The southern front no longer exists."

Every sentence made the atmosphere heavier. Many generals lowered their heads, some clenched their fists, others looked frightened.

Alden remained calm.

"And with the betrayal of the three Marshals, our kingdom now stands in a dire situation."

The hall immediately erupted into whispers.

The mention of the three Marshals filled many people with anger.

A peak Tier 6 general stepped forward.

His face was red with fury.

"Your Majesty, how could the Marshals betray the kingdom?"

"Everything they possess was given by the kingdom."

"They hold their titles because of the kingdom."

"They became Quasi-Tier 7 experts because of the kingdom."

His voice grew louder.

"And now they abandon us when we need them most?"

Many officials nodded in agreement. Some openly cursed the three Marshals.

King Alden quietly listened, then he raised a hand.

The throne room immediately fell silent again.

"What he said is true."

The king’s expression remained calm.

"The three Marshals have officially informed me that they will not participate in the defense of the capital."

A wave of disbelief spread through the hall.

Even those who had heard rumors looked shocked.

One minister stepped forward.

"Your Majesty, what reason did they give?"

Alden laughed softly.

The sound contained no amusement.

Only disappointment.

"They said they no longer believe victory is possible."

Silence.

"They said remaining here would only lead to their deaths."

More silence.

Alden’s eyes slowly moved across the room.

"And they said they refuse to die for a losing kingdom."

Several officials looked ready to explode.

One elderly noble slammed his cane against the floor.

"Cowards!"

Another shouted.

"Traitors!"

"They should be executed!"

"They should be stripped of everything!"

Angry voices filled the throne room. Many nobles were furious.

Several generals looked as if they wanted to march out of the capital and drag the three Marshals back by force.

But eventually, reality settled over the room.

The anger remained.

The frustration remained.

Yet everyone knew there was nothing they could do.

The three Marshals were not ordinary men.

They stood at the pinnacle of the kingdom’s strength.

For decades, they had been regarded as the kingdom’s greatest military power.

Their names alone could intimidate neighboring nations.

Now they had chosen to abandon the kingdom.

And nobody possessed the authority or strength to force them to return.

A middle-aged minister lowered his head and spoke bitterly.

"Even if we wanted to punish them, who would do it?"

The throne room became quiet.

No one answered.

Because everyone knew the answer.

No one.

The three Marshals were Quasi-Tier 7 experts.

The strongest warriors in the kingdom.

At present, only one person could stand on equal footing with them.

Virtil.

All eyes gradually shifted toward the old knight.

Virtil remained motionless. His weathered face revealed no emotion.

He simply stood beside the throne like an ancient mountain.

Yet everyone understood the problem.

There was only one Virtil.

Even if he could match one Marshal, he could not be everywhere at once.

Three Quasi-Tier 7 experts abandoning the kingdom was a disaster that could not be repaired.

King Alden slowly exhaled.

The disappointment in his eyes was impossible to hide.

A painful cough suddenly escaped his lips.

"Cough... cough..."

Charles immediately stepped forward.

"Brother."

Alden raised a hand.

"I’m fine."

After a few moments, the coughing stopped.

The king straightened himself and looked across the throne room.

His gaze became firm once more.

"The matter of the Marshals ends here."

His voice echoed throughout the hall.

"We cannot waste time dwelling on people who have already abandoned us."

The room immediately fell silent. Every official listened carefully. Alden slowly turned his head toward Charles.

For a brief moment, the entire throne room became still.

Everyone knew what was coming.

"Duke Charles."

Charles stepped forward.

"Your Majesty."

Alden’s eyes met his younger brother’s.

"In this battle, you will take command of all military forces within the capital."

The announcement sent a ripple through the room.

No one objected.

In fact, many visibly relaxed.

If there was anyone capable of leading the kingdom’s final defense, it was Charles.

He was one of the kingdom’s greatest generals.

A veteran who had survived countless wars. A man respected by soldiers and nobles alike.

Charles immediately dropped to one knee, his fist struck his chest.

The sound echoed throughout the hall.

"I will not disappoint you, Your Majesty."

His voice was firm and unwavering. There wasn’t a trace of hesitation.

For a moment, the two brothers simply looked at one another.

No words were needed.

Both understood the weight of the responsibility being handed over.

Alden gave a small nod.

"I know you won’t."

Charles slowly rose.

The warmth that usually surrounded him disappeared.

The friendly duke was gone.

In his place stood a commander preparing for war.

His eyes swept across the assembled generals.

"Starting now, all military matters fall under my command."

Several generals immediately stepped forward.

"As you command, Duke Charles."

"The western division will obey."

"The royal army stands ready."

"The eastern garrison awaits orders."

Charles nodded.

"Good."

He walked down the steps beneath the throne.

"The enemy will arrive soon."

His voice carried throughout the room.

"Every soldier in the capital will be assigned a combat position."

"The walls will be reinforced."

"The city formations will remain active day and night."

"Food and medical supplies will be distributed immediately."

One by one, officials began taking notes. Orders spread rapidly throughout the hall.

The atmosphere changed.

The panic that had dominated the room moments ago gradually transformed into determination.

Then Charles stopped and looked toward Virtil.

The old knight met his gaze.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

Then Charles asked,

"Will you stand with us?"

A faint smile appeared on Virtil’s weathered face.

The old knight placed a hand over his chest.

"I have protected this kingdom for hundreds of years."

His eyes sharpened.

"I have no intention of leaving now."

Relief appeared on many faces. Some nobles nearly sighed aloud. Virtil alone was worth an army.

Charles nodded respectfully.

"Then I leave the strongest enemies to you, sir Virtil."

Virtil chuckled softly.

"That was always my job, my lord."

For the first time that day, a few smiles appeared in the throne room.

Even King Alden’s expression softened slightly.

----

Charles remained inside the throne room for nearly an hour after the meeting ended.

Orders were issued.

Defensive formations were activated.

Generals moved throughout the palace like a swarm of bees preparing for a storm.

Everyone knew what was coming.

The final battle.

The kingdom’s fate would be decided within days.

Eventually, Charles excused himself. His footsteps echoed through the quiet palace corridors. The usual warmth on his face had long disappeared.

The burden of commanding an entire kingdom’s defense rested on his shoulders.

Before the battle began, there was one thing he needed to do.

A few minutes later, he arrived outside a private royal chamber.

Two royal guards immediately bowed.

"Duke Charles."

Charles nodded.

"You may leave us."

The guards obeyed without question.

After they departed, Charles slowly pushed open the door.

Inside the room sat Ashan and Mili.

The atmosphere was quiet.