CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 630: Throne Room

Dust, blood, the bodies of two slain Knights, debris from the ruined wall and splintered door blanketed the Throne room completely. Amid the dense, churning haze of dust that hung thickly in the air, Malrik entered with serene, leisurely composure, acting as if his brutal invasion of the Emperor’s palace meant nothing.

Right as he crossed the threshold, the auras of two Crownstar Life Rankers exploded outward with savage fury, crashing down on the Throne room in a frenzy of power. The whole ambiance inside turned icy and lethal, every corner choked by overwhelming murderous intent.

Immediately after, the presences of countless Imperial Knights surged forth in retaliation, each at the Soulstar Life Rank, all responding on pure instinct to the havoc unleashed right in the heart of the Throne room.

Malrik paid them no mind at all and spoke not a word; he merely advanced steadily, ignoring every Knight there without a single look as he traversed the lavish red carpet running the length of the Throne room.

One sole factor kept the Imperial Knights from lunging at Malrik right away. Normally, they would strike without a second thought, bound by oath to guard the Emperor no matter the cost. Yet now, in the Emperor's very presence, with no word or order from him, they could only hold position, alert and leashed.

A splendid golden throne dominated the Throne room, raised on a dais that embodied power and supremacy, where Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor lounged with poised majesty, his dark eyes steadily watching Malrik draw nearer with assured poise.

Even with his Knights butchered and the Throne room entrance demolished, the Emperor showed no outward reaction, his face a mask of serene impassivity as if trivial events had unfolded.

Malrik stopped several meters from the throne, his icy blue eyes piercing into the Emperor’s with fierce, unwavering intensity, then flicking to the pair flanking him—one on the left, the other on the right. No need for guesswork; they were the Commander and Vice Commander of the Imperial Knights.

Though the pair looked like men in their early forties, Malrik saw past the facade, knowing they had endured for centuries. As leaders of the Imperial Army, these Crownstar Life Rankers could tweak their visible age somewhat, if they chose.

Still, that power had bounds—they couldn't age themselves beyond their true years or shrink their looks to youthful kids or teens.

Thus, a thick, crushing hush fell over the Throne room, the duo of Crownstar Life Rankers channeling their vast, smothering auras straight at Malrik, who stood unmoved and casual under the assault, as the other Soulstar Life Rankers waited poised for the Emperor’s word.

The Emperor and Malrik seemed locked in a wordless clash of wills, stares clashing as black met blue, like whoever averted first would yield. After a charged, brief standoff, the Emperor glanced away first, his eyes sweeping over the Soulstar Life Rankers crowding the space. No words escaped him, but his eyes commanded plainly: depart.

Obeying that unspoken directive, the Soulstar Life Rank Imperial Knights dissolved from sight as if never there, abandoning the Emperor, Malrik, and the two Commanders alone in the sprawling Throne room.

The Emperor’s eyes swung back to Malrik as he spoke in a steady, commanding tone laced with authority, "Malrik Wargrave, son of Duke Azaron Wargrave, I trust you possess a most compelling explanation for killing six of my Imperial Knights and causing destruction within the Imperial Palace, while your butler remains outside, actively engaging my Knights. After all, the actions you have taken are more than sufficient grounds for me to charge you with treason," the Emperor stated, his voice steady and devoid of visible anger.

Though the Emperor projected an outward picture of composure, chaos swirled wildly in his mind, flooded with endless speculations about Malrik’s abrupt and atypical conduct. Tensions had simmered beneath the surface between them for ages, but their clashes stayed concealed in the dark, never dragged into daylight.

Malrik’s bold choice to show up so publicly and behave with such audacity pointed to just one conclusion: he’d unearthed something crucial. Yet the precise nature of his discovery eluded Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor.

Malrik fired back without a hint of pause or worry, “Charge me with treason then,” he declared steadily, his voice laced with subtle rebellion, as if egging the Emperor to make good on the accusation.

Those words triggered the two Commanders’ auras to erupt ferociously, blazing to scorching heights while shock and rage danced across their faces, rejecting the notion that the First Sun would defy the Emperor’s rule so flagrantly.

The Throne Room quaked beneath the crush of their might, the floor splitting open with delicate web-shaped fissures racing across it, as windows groaned under strain before exploding outward, hurling glass fragments everywhere. Even amid this fury, the pair held back tremendously, knowing a total unleashing of their auras would flatten the whole Imperial Palace to dust.

A heavy quiet stretched out between them while the Emperor and Malrik kept their gazes locked, utterly dismissing the two Commanders despite the crushing force they unleashed on the chamber.

“Why are you here, Malrik Wargrave?” the Emperor demanded again, his voice now keener, blunter, and stripped of prior patience.

“You know, it’s almost laughable how you perch on that golden throne of yours, pretending not to know. If it was up to me alone, I’d have claimed your head right here on the spot,” Malrik shot back without a second’s delay, discussing the Emperor’s death like it was a trivial everyday affair.

“MALRIK WARGRAVE, WATCH YOUR TONE!!!” the Commander bellowed, shattering his silence at last, his tone icy and authoritative, his hand inching toward the broadsword slung over his back, ready to cut down the arrogant intruder in an instant.

“YOU DARE UTTER SUCH WORDS BEFORE THE EMPEROR!!!” the Vice Commander’s shout boomed across the Throne Room, his fingers drifting to the sabre at his hip, both warriors tensed for instant assault, their murderous auras exploding and overwhelming every corner.

But facing this deadly menace head-on, Malrik ignored them entirely, treating their presence like it meant nothing at all.

History never bowed to age as the sole judge of strength or insight, and their status as Crownstar Life Rankers didn’t force Malrik’s respect, nor elevate them in his view; to him, they were mere barriers in his path, ones he could sweep aside whenever the whim struck.