The throne room of Simharia’s royal castle stood tall and reborn, its crimson banners freshly hung, and its golden inlays polished until they gleamed like captured sunlight.

Massive stained-glass windows filtered the morning glow, casting sacred hues on the stone floor where the court had gathered in full attendance.

On the high throne, draped in crimson and gold, sat Queen Zahara.

Her crimson hair was braided into a regal knot, and her red eyes—calm yet burning with silent might—surveyed the chamber.

The crown upon her brow shimmered faintly, forged anew to match her rise.

Beside her, seated just a step lower on a throne of dark steel, sat Reganath, her father and the former king, now an honored guardian and advisor.

Although Zahara was the queen now, she was still inexperienced, and people might underestimate her—or so was what Reganath thought.

He didn’t know that all the nobles were already under Alex’s control, not daring to think of going against Zahara.

Right now, they had all gathered to celebrate or discuss, but to talk about the upcoming war with the empire.

The court buzzed with tension. Advisors, generals, and nobles filled the hall, the gravity of recent events weighing heavily on their expressions.

Reganath broke the silence with a deep rumble of his voice. “Let it be known to all that the first blow has been struck—not by our armies, but by a single man.”

He paused, his eyes flicking to the figure seated casually at the foot of the stairs. “Alex.”

He was grinning as he thought he had told everyone about something no one knew about.

He remained oblivious to the truth that everyone other than Kael, Bahir, and General Throne—one of Reganath’s close confidants—already knew it.

After all, they were all Alex’s slaves. He had already told them about his plans and their roles.

Still following Reganath’s words, all heads turned toward Alex.

He sat with his legs crossed, dressed in simple garments but exuding a power that pulled every gaze toward him.

His blue eyes were half-lidded in disinterest, his arms resting lazily on his knees. But none were fooled.

After what he’d done, even the most arrogant noble dared not meet his gaze for long.

“Scouts have confirmed it,” said General Thorne, his voice still tinged with disbelief. “Ul’kareth… is gone. There is no city. No throne. No resistance.”

General Throne had the highest authority over the forces of Simharia right after Bael, and since Bael was still busy keeping the city in order, he was the one taking care of things on the outside.

So, his words were more than credible, and hearing them, murmurs rippled through the court.

Reganath nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen cataclysms in my years. But even I would have exhausted every reserve to manage what he did. And he…” he turned toward Alex, “walked back without a scratch as if he’d stepped out for fresh air.”

The nobles already knew everything, but since they were also humans, they had doubts, unable to believe someone could wipe a city off the map.

So, the confirmation from the former king made those doubts vanish, leaving only respect, fear, and reverence.

All three now existed in equal measure in the court’s collective heart.

Zahara’s voice, elegant and composed, cut through the murmurs. “This was the first step. The empire has lost its head. But the body still writhes. We must act before it learns to crawl again.”

Her gaze roamed, addressing every person in the court. “For that, we’ll need the full support of the remaining noble houses.”

Yes. Although Alex’s attack had wiped the city off the map, striking when the higher-ups of the empire were gathered there, that didn’t mean no one survived.

They were all sure some people must’ve survived.

Now, before those people could return to their posts and retaliate, they had to act.

They had to strike before the enemy could even prepare.

An older noble raised his hand, voice shaking slightly as he secretly kept glancing at Alex. “T-Then shall we call the banners, Your Majesty?”

Zahara’s eyes also turned toward Alex.

After all, he was the one who had asked her not to call in the armies yet.

He had explained everything to her, so now, she wanted to know what he thought.

Alex, hearing her question, didn’t move for a heartbeat before he gave a single nod.

“You can call them,” he said, his voice quiet but ironclad. “Now is the right time.”

The court relaxed slightly until Zahara raised her hand again.

“But doesn’t the problem remain?” She asked Alex. “You were the one who said that we could be betrayed anytime, as we don’t know how many of the empire’s spies are still hiding within our ranks. Or have you found a solution?”

Alex raised an eyebrow, smiling at her question.

‘It’s good that she is thinking for herself and not following whatever I’m telling her,’ he muttered inwardly, hearing Sophie’s words of agreement in his head.

[Yeah. But this is to be expected of her. After all, in the plot, she was the one who stood alone till the end. That can’t be possible just with the luck of a heroine.]

Nodding at her words, Alex clapped his hands once.

The echo rippled through the room, and the doors to the throne room opened.

In walked Lilia, Mira, and a small girl with hair like flickering fire, her golden eyes radiant and ancient.

Gasps echoed through the court as Asphera, the fire goddess, stepped between the nobles, radiating something divine despite her childlike form.

Everyone in the court knew who she was, and as soon as she entered, the nobles went down to their knees while Zahara and Reganath stood up from their spots.

“Please. Be at ease,” she said, embers dancing around her.

Following her words, everyone relaxed, and Alex gestured toward her as he answered the question Zahara had asked. “The answer to your problem lies in her hands.”

Confusion spread, but none dared voice it.

Asphera raised her small hand, golden fire blooming gently in her palm.

“This,” she said, her voice calm but echoing with layered power, “is the holy fire that can differentiate between truth and lies.”

She stepped closer to the throne, letting Zahara’s eyes stay on the flame. “It cannot be deceived. It flares against lies and trembles in the presence of betrayal. Anyone who harbors ill intent will find themselves marked by its light. With this flame, the unfaithful cannot hide.”

The court was stunned as she completed the explanation, her eyes glancing at Alex as she still couldn’t understand how Alex knew all this.

After all, he had asked her for this.

It was as if he already knew she was planning to give these flames to Zahara.

Soon, one of the nobles, a viscount, stepped forward hesitantly. “Will… will our goddess walk among us and reveal the traitors herself?”

Before Asphera could answer, Lilia stepped forward.

Her voice was cool and analytical. “She cannot interfere directly. Divine law forbids it. She is here as a guide, not a blade.”

Everyone in the court knew she was Alex’s lover, so none dared to stop her from speaking without Zahara’s permission.

Alex, on the other hand, continued, his tone turning firm. “But there is another way. The fire can be passed down… to one who earns it. To one it deems worthy.”

His gaze turned to Zahara.

“You remember how she had said that you have the potential to wield the holy fire, right?” He asked her while pointing at Asphera, making the young Queen nod.

“You will undergo a trial. Only if you prove yourself in the eyes of the flame will it accept you as its bearer,” he explained. “Then—and only then—can we use it to purge the court.”

Silence fell.

Zahara didn’t hesitate.

She stood, her crimson cloak flowing behind her. Glancing at Asphera and Alex simultaneously, her eyes steady and resolute, she asked, “Where and when do I begin?”

The goddess smiled at those words. “In the flames of judgment. As soon as you can..”

As Zahara walked down the platform, Alex spoke up again. “You have to be quick, Hara. You need to complete the trial before the forces arrive.”

The soldiers would be called today, as delaying would mean giving their enemies time—which they couldn’t afford. So, Zahara must obtain that power before the army arrives.

Only then could they avoid betrayals.

Zahara, in reply, nodded her head, her eyes resolute.

She had always felt weak when she looked at Alex, and now even Lilia, so she wanted something like this.

She wanted power to help her stand next to Alex, not as a woman he loved but as a partner who could share his burden.

So now, it was decided.

Simharia would march, but only after its queen emerged from the divine fire, reborn not just in blood, but in truth.

After all, if they wanted to win the war, they—who were on the weaker side—needed something their enemies didn’t, and it was absolute and unwavering loyalty.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep