Royal Palace of Britain — City of Camelot
Castle Exterior — Eastern Royal Garden
The morning spread warmly across the Royal Palace gardens. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, casting shimmering reflections over fountains that whispered among ancient marble. The air carried the scent of damp roses and freshly cut herbs.
Along the stone pathways, two young women walked side by side: Lucia Ducking and Princess Teresa.
Lucia spoke with a mixture of excitement, fear, and nostalgia, gesturing as she recounted everything, while Teresa listened with genuine curiosity, the breeze playing with the loose strands of her dark hair.
Everything...
Everything that had happened several days ago.
About that young slave she had witnessed fighting in the Glasthor Gladiatorial Tournament held in Cartag.
And the consequences the nobles' slaves had suffered afterward.
Teresa raised a hand to cover her mouth in disbelief.
Teresa: —"Did Prince Alex really go that far once that slave left?"
Lucia's expression darkened. She gave a single nod before continuing.
LuciaDucking: —"The prince acted unilaterally. He sentenced every slave to die by the sword. Using the authority granted by the Imperial Family, he decreed that merely mentioning that gladiator's name would be punishable by death... I still remember everything clearly."
---
Flashback — Eight Days Earlier...
Cartag Amphitheater — Moments After Sam's Departure
The echo of the Abuser's final words still seemed to linger throughout the stands.
But there were no cheers.
No celebration.
Only...
Discomfort.
And terror.
An uneven silence, broken by anxious whispers, sandals scraping hurriedly across stone, nobles rising from their seats before the event had even officially ended—as though remaining there had suddenly become dangerous.
Frank's body was no longer in the arena.
Only the marks of his humiliation remained.
Deep furrows.
Cracks carved into the black stone walls.
And blood.
The blood of slaves.
Of gladiators.
Of the spectacle itself.
The announcer tried to speak—his voice trembled ever so slightly—but the crushing atmosphere smothered every trace of enthusiasm.
His words died before they could fully form.
Then...
Everyone felt it.
A pressure.
It wasn't ordinary aura.
It was...
Authority.
Heavy.
Cold.
Absolute.
Radiating from the very center of the arena.
Prince Alex wasn't applauding.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't reacting like everyone else.
He had been humiliated.
Rejected by a miserable slave.
He sat perfectly upright, one hand clenched into a fist... his fingers tapping a slow, steady rhythm.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
His gaze wasn't on the audience.
It remained fixed on the tunnels through which the Abuser had disappeared.
Beside him, the consuls maintained a deathly silence.
Lucius inclined his head ever so slightly—just enough to speak without the others overhearing.
Lucius: —"Your Highness... What shall we do? How do you wish to proceed?"
No answer came immediately.
Alex narrowed his eyes just slightly.
A tiny gesture.
Yet enough to make the air itself tighten.
Alex: —"The bastard escaped us."
It wasn't a question.
It was a fact.
One of the consuls swallowed hard but maintained his composure.
Consul Hetgar: —"Your Highness, we can still—"
Alex raised a single finger.
Silence.
That tiny gesture carried more authority than any shout ever could.
Alex: —"No."
His voice was soft.
Far too soft.
Alex: —"The captain already tried."
A slight turn of his head.
A sideways glance.
Sharp.
Lucius lowered his eyes.
Alex looked forward again...
But now his fingers had stopped tapping.
The rhythm had broken.
And somehow...
That was even worse.
Alex: —"A slave."
A pause.
Alex: —"A... miserable, damned slave."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
A muscle twitched beneath his skin.
Alex: —"He ruined the entire spectacle. He ruined my plans... and he's so powerful that he treated the Mercenary King like trash... rejected my offer... and threatened one of my men... in my presence... without the slightest hesitation."
Each sentence was quieter than the last.
More restrained.
More dangerous.
Around him, the consuls pretended not to hear...
Yet none of them breathed normally anymore.
Alex leaned forward slightly.
Alex: —"And then he walks away..."
As though he owns the world.
Silence.
A thick silence.
Viscous.
Alex closed his eyes for a brief moment.
When he opened them again...
The irritation was gone.
Only resolve remained.
Alex: —"Captain Lucius Maximus Cortez García."
Lucius: —"Yes, Your Highness."
Alex: —"I want names."
Lucius hesitated.
A mistake.
Alex noticed.
And that...
Was enough.
Alex slowly turned his head completely toward him.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
Alex: —"Not the slave's."
A pause.
Alex: —"Everyone's."
Lucius frowned in confusion.
Alex: —"Owners. Houses. Nobles. Buyers. Overseers. Guards. Organizers."
Each word fell like a sentence of execution.
Alex: —"Anyone who had any contact whatsoever with that man... I refuse to let the rumor exist that a filthy slave won this tournament."
Consul Hetgar flinched before immediately appealing to reason.
Consul Hetgar: —"Your Highness, we cannot attack the citizens... it would become a scandal that could damage your father's path to the throne."
Alex looked at him coldly.
Then smiled.
Alex: —"I understand that perfectly."
His smile widened just slightly.
Alex: —"But my father already has the support of five provinces. Besides, neither nobles nor commoners will be affected."
He paused.
Alex: —"Only the slaves."
The young prince's sheer pragmatism sent chills down every consul's spine.
Hetgar swallowed hard and tried once more.
Consul Hetgar: —"But, Your Highness—"
Alex: —"Silence, Consul."
Quiet.
Alex's eyes settled on Lucius.
At that moment...
Lucius' heart skipped a beat.
He understood exactly what the prince intended.
Lucius: —"Your Highness... What you're asking would require—"
Alex: —"What?"
A single word.
Yet sharp enough to cut flesh.
Lucius lowered his head.
Lucius: —"...a considerable purge."
Alex leaned back into his seat.
Exhaled slowly.
Then smiled.
There wasn't a trace of warmth in it.
Alex: —"Then let's simplify matters."
Lucius watched as the young prince delivered his verdict upon the entire amphitheater.
Alex: —"By the first use of the two authorities granted to me as a member of the Imperial Family... The entire coliseum is hereby sealed. No one—and nothing—may leave without my permission!"
And then...
Every noble.
Every commoner.
Every tourist.
Felt terror.
The Imperial soldiers moved as one, sealing every entrance and exit.
Minutes later...
Chaos had consumed the tunnels beneath the amphitheater.
Mercenaries arguing.
Commoners protesting.
Priests pushing desperately toward the exits.
—"Move, you idiots!"
—"You're crushing me!"
—"I'm from the Order of Light! I demand to be released!"
The air was thick.
Humid.
Heavy with the smell of iron.
Lucia Ducking had managed to slip unnoticed into the confusion.
From one of the restricted entrances, she watched uneasily, her hands clutching her dress.
Her eyes scanned the scene.
Restless.
Something wasn't right.
It wasn't the violence.
It wasn't the blood.
It was...
The feeling.
That suffocating pressure.
As though something...
Was about to break.
Then she saw them.
Imperial Guards.
They weren't running.
They weren't shouting.
They simply walked.
In formation.
In silence.
Far too organized for the chaos surrounding them.
Lucia frowned slightly.
—"...What?"
One of the slaves tried to run past them.
He didn't even manage three steps.
Clang.
A sword pierced straight through his back.
Without warning.
Without hesitation.
The body collapsed with a sickening wet thud.
Nobody screamed.
Nobody reacted.
Because the guards...
Never stopped walking.
As though nothing had happened.
Lucia felt her stomach twist.
One of the officers slowly unrolled a scroll.
He didn't even bother reading it aloud.
He simply spoke.
Coldly.
Flatly.
Imperial Officer: —"By direct order of His Highness, Prince Alex..."
A pause.
Imperial Officer: —"Every slave—whether serving a noble or a commoner—who attended today's event...
...shall be executed."
Time...
Seemed to stop.
Lucia blinked.
Once.
Twice.
As though she hadn't understood.
—"...What?"
Then the screaming began.
Late.
Desperate.
—"Why?!"
—"No! Wait!"
—"I didn't do anything!"
—"Please!"
The guards gave no reply.
They simply advanced.
Swords drawn.
Methodical.
Efficient.
One woman collapsed to her knees, clutching at a soldier's boots.
—"Please! I serve Marquis Cronwell! My son and I! He never fought! He didn't—!"
The blade descended.
Clean.
Direct.
Her voice stopped.
Literally.
Lucia covered her mouth.
Her eyes widened.
The sound...
It wasn't like training.
It wasn't clean.
It was...
Real.
Heavy.
Irreversible.
A young man tried to flee.
Two steps.
Three.
A spear pierced through his chest from behind.
His body trembled...
Pinned in place...
Before collapsing.
Lucia staggered backward.
One step.
Then another.
Her breathing became uneven.
Shallow.
Rapid.
—"This... this isn't..."
It wasn't justice.
It wasn't even punishment.
It was...
Total eradication.
Systematic.
Cold.
Planned.
A nearby noble whispered, his face pale.
Noble: —"The prince thinks he's... erasing every trace."
Lucia heard him.
And understood.
It was never about the slaves.
It was about what that man represented.
Humiliation to the system.
Hope for the slaves.
A flaw in the hierarchy itself.
A wound to the collective ego.
And something like that...
Neither the Empire...
Nor anywhere else in this world...
Could ever tolerate.
One name began echoing through the screams.
It was Galio's voice.
Galio: —"I've already told you! I don't know the Abuser!"
One of his own men pointed at him and shouted everything he knew.
—"He was the one who registered him!"
—"Yes... He did it!"
A guard turned his head.
Galio noticed.
He tried to speak—
But without hesitation...
The guard drove his sword straight through him.
The air left his lungs.
His eyes filled with tears as he remembered his son, Gad.
And so...
Galio died.
The man who had organized everything.
The tournament's announcer.
Lucia felt an icy chill crawl down her spine.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
Then she understood the full meaning of the order.
They weren't merely killing them.
They were...
Erasing the name.
And everything it stood for.
Alex returned to the Imperial balcony alongside the consuls.
He adjusted the collar of his suit while overlooking the amphitheater.
From above...
The screams were little more than noise.
Annoying.
Distant.
He picked up a wine glass.
Slowly swirled the crimson liquid inside.
Alex: —"If I can't have him..."
Then he never existed.
A pause.
His eyes hardened ever so slightly.
Alex: —"Contact the Assassin Queen."
Tell her to investigate the Mercenary Guild.
Some rats may have escaped.
He took a sip.
And never looked back.
---
Back to the Present...
For a brief moment, Lucia avoided Teresa's gaze.
She took a deep breath before her composed expression returned.
Though her heart still hadn't recovered from the memory.
Lucia Ducking: —"The only comfort I have is that my father personally came to find me as soon as he learned the prince had invoked his Imperial Authority."
Teresa raised her eyebrows as the breeze gently stirred the translucent veil of her dress.
Teresa: —"If that's the case... your stay in the Empire was certainly eventful."
Lucia smiled, though her eyes still carried a mixture of fascination and bewilderment.
Lucia Ducking: —"Your Highness, you don't understand. I think it was the first time I'd ever seen such an overwhelmingly one-sided hand-to-hand fighter. Not only did he defeat everyone... He utterly humiliated Battler."
Teresa tilted her head thoughtfully.
Teresa: —"Battler... You mean the famous prodigy from that warrior family of the Northern Kingdom?"
Lucia nodded, lowering her voice slightly as though the memory still amazed her.
Lucia Ducking: —"Yes. His name is James Simundson Battler. What shocked me most... was that he looked about our age."
Teresa let out an incredulous laugh, gracefully covering her mouth.
Teresa: —"I don't believe you, Lucy... Was that slave really that incredible?"
Lucia folded her arms, staring toward the nearby fountain.
Lucia Ducking: —"What if I told you that even superhumans weren't a match for him?"
The princess remained silent for several seconds, idly playing with a flower petal the wind had carried onto her lap.
Teresa: —"If that's true... then I understand why the prince did what he did. But...
Pause.
Teresa: —"Did you discover anything about his identity? Or where he came from?"
Lucia sighed and shook her head.
Lucia Ducking: —"No. The bastard ran away the very moment he received his prize. All I know is that he had strange music, an extravagant mask... and an incredibly inappropriate nickname."
Teresa frowned with amusement.
Teresa: —"Oh... so he's a mysterious man. And what was that music like?"
Lucia narrowed her eyes, trying to remember, unconsciously swaying her head to a rhythm only she could hear.
Lucia Ducking: —"Yes... that slave behaved erratically, but his music... it was unlike anything I'd ever heard before.
The rhythm was incredibly unique.
Yet somehow...
Completely infectious."
Teresa laughed softly, her voice blending with the birdsong.
Teresa: —"Such a peculiar slave... I've never heard of anyone like that."
She paused for a second, analyzing everything...
Teresa: —Hmm... I suppose he escaped from his former owners... What did you say his nickname was?"
A mischievous smile tugged at Lucia's lips.
Lucia Ducking: —"During the tournament, he called himself the Abuser... I suppose that name is now forbidden throughout every corner of the Empire."
Teresa: —"What a peculiar... and rather perverse name... For someone you claim is so powerful.""
Lucia Ducking: —"Tell me... Are you going to try and find him?"
The princess lifted her gaze toward the clear blue sky, thoughtful.
Teresa: —"I still don't know. Chloe hasn't returned from the last mission I assigned her."
The wind suddenly fell still.
Then, from the stone path connecting the gardens to the castle, a young woman approached.
Sunlight reflected brilliantly from her armor, scattering golden flashes across the flowers.
She had wheat-blonde hair and blue-green eyes reminiscent of the sea.
Her presence radiated discipline...
But there was also a certain timidity hidden within her steps.
—"Greetings, Your Highness. His Majesty requests your presence, along with Miss Ducking, in the throne room."
Lucia raised an eyebrow, studying the newcomer.
Lucia Ducking: —"Who are you?"
The young woman immediately straightened, striking her chest with a nervous salute.
—"M-my apologies... I'm an apprentice of the Order of Light."
Teresa: —"Your name?"
The girl's voice faltered slightly.
—"My name is Vivian Lam Crosgrove Surer."
Teresa offered her a warm, courteous smile.
Teresa: —"Very well, Miss Crosgrove. Would you escort us back?"
—"Y-Yes."
She answered with an awkward bow.
Lucia tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear and nodded.
Lucia Ducking: —"Very well. Let's go."