The hall was alive with noise. Players, journalists, clan reps — veterans and newcomers alike. Cameras flashed. Voices overlapped. The air felt tight.

  Tonight, for the first time in the game's history, the world would finally see the real face of the Bloody Emperor.

  One banner showed the goddess Ehiria — silver-violet hair, glowing eyes, white garments flowing like light. Calm. Untouchable.

  Another displayed the Bloody Emperor's avatar. Chin lifted. A faint smirk. That unmistakable downward gaze.

  In one corner stood the five so-called geniuses of the new era — Kael, Astrael, Raven, Ineyra, and Liora.

  Kael tilted his head toward the banner.

  "Look at that face. Even his avatar looks like he's judging the whole room."

  Raven let out a short laugh.

  "And they're paying him a million for that attitude. For breathing."

  Kael smirked.

  "We're the ones at the top now. And he's the one cashing in."

  He glanced back at the image.

  "He beat Gert Keller, Grey Moll, and those five clan leaders — and people treat it like some legendary saga. If I'd been there, I would've done the same. It's not that impressive."

  Liora looked at him steadily.

  "You wouldn't have."

  Kael rolled his eyes.

  "Oh, here we go."

  "I watched the recordings," she said calmly. "It wasn't random. He controlled the fight and was always several steps ahead of all his opponents."

  Raven leaned toward her with a grin.

  "What, Liora… did you fall for him or something?"

  Astrael chuckled.

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  "Yeah, what is this? You got a crush on the Bloody Emperor?"

  Liora's expression hardened.

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "I'm serious," Raven pressed. "You're defending him like you admire him."

  "I'm saying he was strong," she replied sharply. "That's all. Don't twist it."

  The doors opened.

  Brad, Rosalia, Oliver, Daric, and John stepped inside.

  Astrael noticed them and gave a low, mocking laugh.

  "Well, look who it is. The Five Losers."

  Brad stopped walking.

  "What did you just say?"

  Kael stepped slightly forward.

  "You heard him."

  Raven added casually,

  "Relax. We were just talking about your old emperor."

  Rosalia's gaze turned cold.

  "Choose your words carefully."

  Kael shrugged.

  "Why? You lost to him. Then you lost to Ehiria. That's not bad luck. That's a pattern."

  Daric's jaw tightened.

  "Kids like you weren't even in the game back then. You have no idea what was really happening."

  Astrael spread his hands lightly.

  "From where we're standing? Looks simple enough."

  Brad's voice dropped lower.

  "You weren't there."

  Kael met his eyes.

  "And you were. And you still lost."

  A few nearby conversations died down.

  Brad stepped forward.

  "We fought him for years. You're arguing about highlights on a screen. You don't know what that was like."

  Raven folded his arms.

  "So what? He scared you?"

  Rosalia didn't raise her voice.

  "He pressed us down like a god crushing a turtle." (That was what the Bloody Emperor always used to say before facing us — "I will crush you like a god crushes a turtle.")

  The tension in the air shifted.

  Liora watched them carefully.

  So that was it.

  They hated him — for what he took from them, for how he tore apart their dominance piece by piece.

  And yet beneath the anger…

  There was something else.

  Respect.

  Near one of the columns stood the same old man from the Life Without End branch at Bern's main station.

  He observed the exchange quietly.

  "Not a single trace of former respect remains," he murmured. "Only dust."

  Angelo met his gaze.

  Of course you're here.

  He walked past without stopping.

  Let them tear into each other. How predictable.

  A voice echoed through the hall:

  "Dear guests, a reminder that tonight, for the first time, the world will see the true face of the Bloody Emperor — Angelo Fool."

  Maria stepped up beside him.

  "Who were you talking to outside?"

  "Some old acquaintances," he said lightly. "We exchanged a few words."

  She studied his face.

  "The same ones from your dream?"

  A small pause.

  "You're right," he said. "It was them."

  A man in a formal suit approached.

  "One gentleman would like to speak with you privately."

  Angelo nodded.

  "That's fine."

  He turned to Maria.

  "Go find your seat. The show starts in thirty minutes."

  She gave him a warm look.

  "Good luck, my son."

  She walked away into the crowd.

  The noise softened behind him.

  Angelo rested his hand on the door handle.

  And opened it.