The palace where Sultan Salah was currently residing was one reserved for foreign royalty and esteemed guests.

It was equipped with vast facilities capable of accommodating hundreds of people, including various amenities meant to impress foreign dignitaries.

…However, at this moment, no one had the leisure to enjoy such luxuries.

“Guhhh…!”
“Sultan, please endure a little longer. The bleeding will stop soon. Or perhaps we should use a potion—”
“No, absolutely not! A potion can’t restore my lost ear, can it?!”

With their master writhing in pain, who could possibly think about indulging in grandeur?

On the contrary, they were far more concerned about losing their heads at any moment.

“B-But, Sultan…”
“Enough! Get that thing out of my sight!”
“…As you command.”

Who would dare disobey such an order?

The healer stepped back, unable to hide their dismay.

“…Damn it!”

Salah, who rarely uttered vulgarities, couldn’t stop himself this time.

His wound continued to throb, burning as though it were aflame.

His ear had been cut off as if torn apart, yet it had neither been stitched nor treated with potions or medicine, so the pain was inevitable.

The only reason he wasn’t bleeding out was thanks to Western medical techniques that delayed the flow of blood.

But this was only a temporary measure. His complexion was steadily worsening.

“Those damned followers of the Light…”

Clench!

If he truly wanted to heal his ear, he could turn to the priests of the Light, who wielded divine blessings.

However, as the Sultan, he was forbidden from accepting aid from other religions.

In the West, the worship of the Sun God rivaled that of the Light, and Sultan Salah was revered as the “descendant” and “representative” of the Sun God.

For that reason, worshiping any deity other than the Sun God was considered a “taboo.”

Blaspheming the Sun God was one thing, but accepting aid from another religion could easily be misconstrued as treason against the Sultan.

It was an unyielding rule, but no tool preserved royal authority better than religion.

This was the epitome of the “Divine Right of Kings.”

Consequently, the religions of other continents, including the Light, couldn’t establish themselves in the West. To the people of the West, the Light was nothing more than a heretical cult that could never be accepted.

Especially…

“Urgh!”
“Sultan, instead of enduring this, perhaps we should visit the temple…”
“No. Absolutely not. The moment I receive healing from heretics, my authority will crumble!”
“…Sultan.”
“Ghh!”

The Sultan could never seek healing from the Light.

He was the Sun God’s representative, the bloodline of divinity.

For someone like him to receive treatment from heretics just because he was injured?

Unthinkable.

Should one of his political rivals discover that he had turned to a heretical priest for help, it would shatter the foundation of his sovereignty.

His people would rise in rebellion, declaring that he was no descendant of the divine.

“When did those damn priests of the Sun Temple say they’d arrive?”
“…They’ve just crossed the border.”
“Those insolent vermin! They could have arrived earlier, but they dared to dawdle!”
“……”
“Arrogant bastards! Filthy scum…!!”

The Sun Temple.

They were supposed to serve the Sultan, the Sun God’s representative, yet their relationship with Salah had soured long ago.

The priests of the Sun Temple had always aspired to stand above the Sultan, while Salah had always intended to crush them beneath his feet.

Naturally, their relationship was strained, and the priests no longer accompanied Salah on his journeys.

Now, despite suffering severe injuries, the Sultan remained untreated.

He could have instructed the healer to stitch his torn ear and treat his wounds, but even with divine power, full regeneration would be difficult.

Considering the regulations that demanded the Sultan have no “physical defects” or “mental disabilities,” this injury was fatal.

The pain wasn’t the issue—this was enough justification to dethrone him.

‘This situation is utterly screwed!’

…Clench!

Who would have thought he’d suffer such a blow in Pendragon?

‘Who the hell was it…?!’

Salah refused to believe that his attackers were assassins.

The Crows were ruthless, but they never abandoned contracts or betrayed their clients.

If betrayal had been their way, they would have been wiped out in the West long ago.

Similarly, it made no sense for another Sultan to target him.

All the Sultans knew that maintaining the current system was in their best interest.

Which meant…

‘Someone from Pendragon attacked me.’

…How dare they.

While it was true that Salah had struck first, that didn’t matter.

To injure the Sultan, the representative of the Sun God? That was treason worthy of being burned alive.

Salah had no intention of forgiving his attackers.

“…Salman, if my soldiers stationed near the border were to march, how soon could they reach Pendragon?”
“S-Sultan? Surely you don’t mean—?!”
“They need to be taught a lesson. They need to understand what it means to lay a hand on the descendant of the Sun God!”
“……”

Seeing Sultan Salah’s state of mind, Salman couldn’t hide his despair.

His master, normally calm and calculating, now seemed like an entirely different person.

But as he looked at the Sultan’s severed ear, Salman clenched his teeth.

‘This is all because of those bastards who dared attack us!’

His own missing arm was nothing in comparison, but to leave such a flaw on the Sultan’s divine body…

It was an unforgivable crime, and Salman fully shared his master’s fury.

Master and servant, they were cut from the same cloth.

A knight witnessing the two might have called them beasts in human form.

And beasts followed instinct.

Particularly those afflicted with rabies—they couldn’t be reasoned with.

Thus…

“-Ignorant fools. I tried to let it slide, but there’s a limit to my patience.”

“!!?”
“Who’s there?!”

Salman quickly drew his sword.

Even with one arm, he was a formidable warrior, exuding sharp killing intent as he faced the sudden intruder.

Click. Click.

…However, despite the drawn blade, the figure strode forward confidently under the moonlight.

Their steps exuded authority.

As the moon illuminated them, silver hair shone brilliantly, and their piercing eyes gleamed with a divine light.

“Y-You’re…?!”

Salman froze.

He recognized her face.

She was the first person he had seen upon entering the kingdom and the one with the most prestigious status.

“…Is this how Pendragon treats its guests? Princess Isis?”

Isis Elaine de Pendragon.

The kingdom’s heir apparent and first in line to the throne.

Her beauty rivaled that of angels, making the surroundings seem brighter, as though stepping into a fairy tale.

Had she arrived under different circumstances, Salah might have welcomed her warmly—he admired beauty, after all.

But now?

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

“How dare you draw your sword before the royal heir?”

“…Apologies, but drawing a weapon is only natural when faced with an intruder, Your Highness.”

The tension was palpable—one wrong move, and blood would spill.

Yet Isis remained calm, even as blades gleamed.

Not only that, but she stepped closer.

“Such insolence. You should address me as Crown Princess. Typical Western barbarians…”

“…You dare insult the Sultan?!”

Her provocation only fanned the flames.

And then—

[I never gave you permission to speak.]

Whoosh!

“!!?”

Salman fell to his knees, blood pooling beneath him.

“…Salman?”

“……”

Even as the Sultan called out, Salman couldn’t respond.

His vision was turning red.

“…Wha—?”

Salman realized that blood was pouring from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Strangely, he couldn’t feel a thing.

Even as the blood spurted out like a fountain, he felt absolutely nothing.

“You should have understood what it means to draw a blade against me. This is what happens when someone like you, ignorant of grace, honor, and etiquette, dares to act so arrogantly. Know your place.”

Isis spat out her condemnation as she looked down at the fallen Salman.

There was no place in her world for those who showed hostility toward her.

If someone were to be spared, they had to be worthy of such mercy—possessing honor and qualifications.

That lowly creature before her had neither.

…He didn’t even deserve to be respected as a warrior.

“What did you do to Salman, Princess Isis?!”

Salah shouted desperately.

It was only natural for him to panic as he watched his loyal guard captain spew blood and collapse before his eyes.

But Isis…

“I knew you were foolish, but not this foolish. I’m starting to doubt whether you’re truly fit to rule a nation.”

Her eyes were filled with disdain.

She couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so utterly foolish—or how someone with such a narrow view of the world could lead a country.

“What you should’ve been asking wasn’t what happened to that arrogant fool. Instead, you should’ve asked why no one has come to rescue you despite my presence in this palace, you pathetic creature.”

“W-What…?”

“Don’t you think it’s eerily quiet around here?”

“……”

“Ah, so you’ve finally realized. Idiot.”

“W-What did you do?!”

“You should’ve asked that earlier. Truly pathetic.”

His repeated displays of incompetence made Isis feel more disappointment than anger.

It wasn’t the beast in front of her that evoked sympathy—it was the people who had to be ruled by such a beast.

Snap.

Salah was still shouting, spewing nonsense, but Isis saw no need to keep entertaining the conversation.

So she snapped her fingers.

And in an instant—

“Gahk…?!”

Salah gagged and writhed in pain.

Just like his guard had moments ago.

Drip.

Blood poured from his mouth, yet Isis calmly seated herself on a chair, exuding poise.

“How audacious. Not only did you covet Pendragon’s Mystics, but you also conspired with those vermin mages and hired assassins to attack my students…”

“Ggh…!”

“I even heard you stationed soldiers near the border. Unbelievable. Did you really think you could get away with attacking Pendragon? Did you think we were weak?”

“……!!”

“Ah, that look in your eyes. I can guess what you’re thinking. Something along the lines of, ‘If I die, there will be war between the Sultanate and Pendragon. How will you handle that?’”

“!!”

“There’s no need to worry. My sworn brother didn’t disappoint me—he captured your illegal mage. Thanks to him, disguising someone in your skin won’t be difficult.”

“!!!?!”

Salah’s eyes widened in terror as his body trembled.

Yet it wasn’t the pain that overwhelmed him.

It was the realization of what she had just said.

Disguising someone in his skin?!

No!

He glared at Isis with desperation, but for the first time, she smiled.

…A cold, chilling smile that cut deeper than any blade.

“Thanks to your foolishness, the Sultanate is practically in my hands. Don’t worry—I’ll take good care of your people. I can promise they’ll be far better off than they were under your rule.”

“N-No… I… I won’t let you…!”

Salah thrashed wildly, as if trying to fight off his fate.

The descendant of the great Sun God couldn’t let some dragon’s bloodline steal his nation.

But—

“I don’t need your permission.”

Isis’s tone was resolute.

“Farewell, foolish Sultan.”

With those final words, she turned and left the palace.

Just as she had entered—with perfect composure.

“──!”

Salah reached out with bloodshot eyes, his trembling hand stretching toward her.

But it never touched her.

His arm fell limply to the floor.

‘I… What kind of enemy did I make…?’

For the first time, Salah felt regret.

He had provoked someone he never should have.

Someone untouchable.

He had finally learned what it meant to incur the wrath of a dragon.

…A realization that came far too late.

*****

Click. Click.

“……”

Isis walked under the moonlight.

She could have ridden a carriage back to her palace, but tonight, she felt like walking.

It wasn’t sentimentality.

She had bathed her hands in so much blood that this incident hardly warranted emotional reflection.

She simply… wanted to walk.

…For no particular reason.

Whoosh.

At that moment, a man dressed as a butler approached her leisurely.

“Did you kill him?”

“…You’re not even asking if I’m safe? That’s your first question?”

“Haha, I trust you can take care of yourself, Princess.”

“…How shameless.”

“Ha ha.”

Albert.

He was her subordinate, yet he was someone she couldn’t completely control.

Isis found it infuriating how he always appeared only after everything was done.

“Not yet. There’s too much information to extract. Killing him now would be a waste.”

“Haha. That’s my Princess. The ultimate villain.”

“…I can’t deny it.”

“Ho ho.”

She didn’t deny her actions.

No matter how vile her enemies were, meeting evil with evil still made her a villain.

So she had no right to object to being called one.

But if she was to be a villain, she’d be the best one.

At the very least—

“I’ll be a great villain.”

“Haha, I look forward to it.”

“Hmph!”

Isis snorted at Albert’s cheeky comment.

He was even harder to read than she was.

Just then—

“But Princess, why are you alone? If it’s something like this, Sir Ihan would never miss it.”

“……”

“Princess…?”

“…Sigh.”

“?”

The casual question suddenly made Isis sigh, her earlier coldness and pride fading away.

Her sworn brother.

Reliable, competent, and surprisingly diligent despite appearances.

But still…

“If only he’d let go of his hatred for mages…”

“…Haha. Now I understand where he is.”

“Sigh…”

Isis rubbed her temples and shook her head.

“Hm?”

Ihan scratched his ear.

He frowned, wondering if dirt had gotten in.

“What’s with you?”

“You’re just as dirty. Don’t talk.”

“…I hate being compared to you.”

“You’re always pissed off like a lunatic.”

“…Draw your sword.”

“Why fight when we can run? Don’t make me bother.”

“…!!”

Ihan dismissed the irritation and teased his companion instead.

There weren’t many people who’d curse at him so openly.

It was probably…

‘Isis.’

She’d been absolutely dumbfounded by his plans, so he couldn’t blame her.

‘I’ll deal with her nagging later.’

For now, Ihan focused on the goal ahead.

“…How much farther do we have to go?”

“You seriously don’t know? And you plan to reach the Magic Tower?”

“I just need to get to the Empire. I’ll figure it out from there.”

“…Unbelievable.”

His companion shook his head.

No wonder—

“You’re planning to cover 6,000 miles in four days? Do you think that’s possible?”

Ihan scowled at Raq, his guide.

“Stop using miles. Speak in kilometers, damn it.”

He dreaded the day they’d bring up pounds and yards.