Dimitoli stood in the center of the Ten Holy Temples, looking around, feeling that everything before him was as absurd as a nightmare.
The twisted bodies of nobles lay everywhere, bloodstains spreading dark red on the smooth stone slabs.
Those nobles who were still alive—familiar faces, trusted confidants he had promoted, family representatives who had been loyal to the royal family for generations—all looked at him with complex and distant eyes.
In the distance, eight blood clan members radiating terrifying auras stood silently, their postures strangely respectful, and at the center of their attention was that black-haired young man.
Then there was his daughter Sara, standing in the center of the hall, her back straight, meeting his gaze without flinching.
“I don’t understand.”
Dimitoli’s voice was hoarse, every word seeming to be squeezed out of his throat, “Wasn’t this Ten Sacred Halls Trial supposed to deal with the Arseid Family? Why has it turned out like this?”
His gaze swept over Riya—that “Silver-haired Vampire” was standing there perfectly fine, not even in shackles.
Then he looked toward the cross, his pupils suddenly contracting.
Tina, his most trusted High Priestess and the de facto controller of the Ten Holy Temples, was now nailed to the Judgment Platform.
Her gorgeous holy robe was tattered, her body covered with scorched burns and dried blood.
“Tina…?” For the first time, uncertainty appeared in Dimitoli’s voice.
Sara took a deep breath, stepped forward, and walked up to her father.
Her expression was solemn, no victor’s pride in her eyes, only a heavy sense of responsibility and determination.
“Father,” her voice was clear and steady, “I have thought about this for a long time and seen a lot with my own eyes. This empire has problems at its root.”
She paused, looking at the noble corpses around:
“If we continue to rule in the current way, the lifespan of the Olay Empire will not be long.”
“Nobles in power struggles, rigid class structures, accumulated resentment from the lower classes, external threats looming… It could even be said that in your generation, the empire’s collapse might begin.”
Dimitoli’s expression turned ugly.
He looked at his daughter, his eldest daughter whom he had carefully cultivated and placed high hopes in since childhood.
Now she was questioning his rule in front of all the nobles.
“Sara,” his voice was suppressed with anger, “Don’t joke with me like that. Tell me, what exactly happened? These people—” he pointed at the blood clan, “Why are these monsters here? And what’s going on with Tina?”
His gaze swept over the nobles again, majesty returning to him:
“And you all! A public coup, a collective rebellion? Do you know what kind of nature this is?”
If it were usual times, the emperor’s wrath would be enough to make any noble tremble and kneel to apologize.
But not this time.
The nobles exchanged glances, their eye contact conveying the same message: if you want to live, you have to choose the right side.
Yize stood there, calmly watching it all.
The blood clan members behind him made no moves, but the intangible pressure had already made everything clear—whoever dared to oppose, the dried corpses on the ground were the example.
“Your Majesty,” a middle-aged noble was the first to speak, his voice trembling slightly but his words resolute, “You… you are indeed old. Your policies in recent years have been too conservative. The empire needs new vitality.”
Another noble immediately followed:
“Princess Sara is exceptionally talented and surpasses others in ability. Only she can lead the empire to prosperity!”
“Yes, Your Majesty, abdicating in favor of someone more capable is not a bad story…”
“We all support Princess Sara!”
Voices rose and fell, spreading from the first few to the entire hall.
All the surviving nobles, whether sincere or forced, now chose the same stance—supporting Sara.
Dimitoli was stunned.
If only a few nobles had said this, he might have felt gratified—his daughter had grown up and knew how to win people over.
But now, it was everyone.
Including those new nobles he had personally promoted, those who should have been his most loyal supporters.
His eyes swept over faces, seeing only distance, fear, and a certain determination he couldn’t understand.
‘Could it be… I really am such a failure?’
For the first time, such a question arose in Dimitoli’s mind.
Just then, Yize moved.
He waved his hand casually, and the long nails piercing Tina’s limbs fell off with a sound.
Tina’s body slid weakly down from the cross, but was caught by a gentle force before hitting the ground and was slowly set down.
She struggled to stand up and limped toward Dimitoli.
Seeing Tina approach, a glimmer of hope reignited in Dimitoli’s eyes.
Tina was one of his most trusted people, the High Priestess of the Ten Holy Temples, in control of half the empire’s secret power.
If she still stood on his side…
But Tina stopped three meters in front of him.
She raised her head and looked at the former emperor, her former master.
In her green eyes there was neither resentment nor loyalty, only absolute obedience under the effect of a drug.
“Please abdicate, Your Majesty.” Tina said, her voice terrifyingly calm.
Dimitoli froze completely.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but found his throat blocked as if by something.
He looked at Tina, then at Sara, then at the nobles who had defected, and finally fixed his gaze on the black-haired young man who remained always calm.
‘Why?’
He wanted to ask, but couldn’t make a sound.
Tina was also asking the same question in her heart.
It was originally just a trial against the Arseid Family.
She was supposed to pronounce Riya’s death sentence from a high position and incidentally purge the disobedient nobles.
‘Why did it turn out like this?’
Her gaze involuntarily drifted toward Yize.
She should be afraid of and resent this man who had destroyed everything she had, but the effect of the “Obedience Water” was still ongoing, making her both scared and irresistibly attracted—that drug-induced, twisted sense of attachment.
It was this man.
He had appeared suddenly, crushing all plans with absolute power.
He had brought blood clan prisoners, exposed the secrets of the Ten Holy Temples, forced her to drink that damned potion…
Now, she had gone from the High Priestess beneath only one person to a slave who must be absolutely loyal to Sara.
Riya keenly caught the change in Tina’s eyes.
Her scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, and a strong displeasure surged in Riya’s heart.
She reached out and pinched Yize hard on the side of his waist.
Actually, given Yize’s current constitution, this pinch wouldn’t even tickle him.
But he immediately reacted, letting out a very cooperative “hiss,” grimacing to show a pained expression.
“It hurts, hurts, hurts!” he exclaimed exaggeratedly.
Riya looked at his expression, and only then did her brows relax a little, but her mouth was still merciless:
“Stop pretending. I didn’t use any force at all. With your twisted defense, could I really hurt you?”
Yize grinned, leaned close to her ear, and lowered his voice:
“I made my baby unhappy, so I have to let my baby vent and be happy, right?”
“Baby”
The word made Riya’s face instantly flush red.
She looked around in panic—her sister Angelica was watching them, Sara had also cast a glance their way, and even the nobles and blood clan members were vaguely glancing over.
“Don’t say that…”
Riya’s voice was as small as a mosquito, the tips of her ears turning red, “Who is your baby…”
Her appearance now formed a huge contrast with the cold “Silver-haired Vampire” image from before.
Yize looked at her—silver hair like a waterfall, scarlet eyes, tall figure with stunning curves.
Clearly she had a cool and mature appearance, but now she was shy like a girl because of a flirtatious remark.
This contrast was too deadly.
Yize couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle her head again, his tone tender enough to drip water:
“Oh, you’re shy. My baby is really cute.”
“Alright…”
Riya gave him a reproachful glare, but there was no deterrence in that look, only a hint of bashfulness, “Everyone’s watching…”
Even as she said that, she didn’t really push Yize’s hand away.
In fact, Riya herself found it strange.
The previous Yize always kept his distance from her, was cautious, and even avoided her.
‘How could he become so… bold and proactive after not seeing each other for a while?’
“You used to avoid me like the plague.”
Riya couldn’t help asking, her voice carrying a hint of grievance she hadn’t noticed herself, “Now how do you dare to be like this?”
Yize blinked, a sincere expression on his face:
“How about you just think I didn’t know better before?”
He paused, looking into Riya’s eyes, his voice softening:
“Or… do you not like it this way? If you really dislike it, then I won’t in the future—”
“I don’t dislike it.”
Riya hurriedly interrupted him, then realized she had been too eager, and her face reddened even more.
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