Vir appeared directly behind Imperator Andros, yet there was no explosion of prana this time. No grand display of overwhelming might.

  While Vir’s Crown aura might’ve killed the Imperator all on its own, death wasn’t enough for this one.

  No, Andros had to be humiliated. Broken. And Ira had to be the one to do it, before the eyes of the tens of thousands of Sonamites gathered below.

  What better way to assert her authority over the Empire than to end its seemingly invincible ruler. Trivially, publicly, on a stage that no one could deny. The grandest stage of all.

  “Hear me, people of Sonam!” Imperator Andros bellowed, oblivious to Vir’s arrival. “In but a few days, Kartara will fall! The Hiranyan imposter king will hang. We will stake his head on a spike for the world to see, and Sai will soon become the newest jewel faceting our glorious empire’s crown! This, I promise you!”

  The crowd's roars swiftly devolved into gasps and screams, beginning with the guards and advisors gathered behind Andros on his podium high above the crowd.

  Seeing the commotion, Andros’ speech faltered, and he glanced back, only to find his entire entourage lying dead on the ground.

  “You!” Andros roared. To the Imperator’s credit, his title of the most powerful Talent wielder in the Realm was not for show, and he drew his talwar in a blur that would have been impossible for most foes to follow, let alone react to. The blow that followed would have decapitated most warriors.

  Vir, however, was not most warriors. The deadly blade stopped cold, caught in between thumb and finger.

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?” Vir asked, rushing forth to grab Andros by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

  “You can’t kill me,” Andros growled, feet flailing against Vir’s unshakable grip.

  “Yes, I’m aware you’ve gathered many Artifacts,” Vir said evenly. “Fret not, they will serve us well. But it won’t be me who ends you.” He hurled the Imperator to the floor and pointed to the princess beside him. “It’ll be her.”

  “Her?” Andros laughed, looking at his daughter with unbridled hatred. A look that no parent ever ought to give a child.

  If Ira was bothered, she did not show it, instead stepping forward and slashing her father’s throat with a dagger.

  The Imperator didn’t even bother to dodge. A feeble blow from a girl who was neither a Warrior nor a mejai was nothing to him, and Vir doubted she would have posed a threat to him even without his bevy of Artifacts.

  But as Vir had learned firsthand that not all magic could be warded against.

  The moment Ira’s blade touched his throat, Vir struck.

  His Crown Chakra flared for the briefest of instants. Warrior Chakra manifested, lashing at Andros’s soul. There was no defense. No protection in this realm or the next that could have saved him.

  Be it Automatons or Artifacts, the Prime Imperium had no defense against Chakra-based magic, and the Emperor received the full brunt of the assault.

  His body froze before convulsing uncontrollably, his soul shattered into a thousand shards.

  Vir walked up to the spasming Imperator, looking upon him with the cold, hollow eyes of an executioner.

  “You may believe that this is a failure of intelligence. That you could have done something to save yourself. Know that this is false. You were dead all along, you simply did not know it.”

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  There was no emotion in Vir’s voice. No hint of rage. There was only the slow narration of fact. The slow advance of a tsunami that brought destruction without judgment.

  “For you died the moment you harmed a soul you had no business to harm. A precious existence you had no right to touch. My shining jewel. My Rajni. You boiled her alive. You tortured your own daughter. Death is too forgiving an end for beings such as you. No, Andros, you will live. You will grow old as a broken husk, a hollow shell of the man you once were, your every waking moment plagued by agony.”

  Though the last vestiges of the Imperator’s sanity ebbed, Vir knew he was still there, still able to understand. Still able to fear.

  He grabbed the Imperator’s head, forcing him to look into his eyes.

  “And, when you finally succumb, decades from now, when you beg for death, I will come. I come to ensure that your soul sees no peace. Not in this life nor any other. For I will shatter you so truly that you will beg to never be born again.”

  Vir backed off and nodded to Ira, trying to ignore the trembling of her body—the fear in her eyes. Not of her father, but of him.

  It was a fleeting thing, gone in an instant, and Ira turned to face her father. To deal the final blow.

  The crowd gasped and screamed as Ira kicked the indisposed him, sending the Imperator of Kinjal sailing off the edge of the platform.

  Andros crashed headfirst into the plaza below, and though his Artifacts kept him alive, they would only prolong his suffering.

  For as Vir knew well, there was no recovering from a shattered soul.

  Vir dismissed his Chakra, dimming his godly aura before it could fully manifest. This was not his moment. This moment belonged to Ira alone.

  She gave Vir a single, nervous glance, which he returned with a nod.

  Setting her face, she stepped up to the amplification orb, showing none of the hesitation that had wracked her earlier.

  “People of Sonam, I am Princess Ira Kinjal,” she declared, her tone burning with conviction, silencing the confusion and panic that threatened to consume the crowd. “One year ago, my father sought to have me killed by boiling at this very square. Yet he failed, for my strength is not mine alone. I have powerful allies and loyal friends. As you have just witnessed, I have returned, and under Kinjal law, I have defeated my father in single combat. I hereby claim my rightful throne as Empress of Kin’jal!”

  The crowd erupted in cheers, thousands of voices shaking the square. Though Vir knew Ira had seeded many of her people to guide the crowd, there were far too many to be her people alone. It seemed she truly had won the loyalty of her people over the past year.

  “For centuries,” she thundered, “this Empire has conquered relentlessly, unable to satiate its bottomless hunger. Under my father and his heir, my brother, that conquest would never have ended—not until Kinjal’s borders stretched from north to south, east to west, devouring this realm. If not under Kyren’s rule, under his son’s, and so on.”

  Her voice sharpened, cutting through the silence. “Some of you might see this as a good thing. Ultimate power for Kin’jal, after all. But hear me, people of Sonam, this is a path to destruction. For though we would have conquered the world, we will not have conquered our desire for conquest. With nowhere else to turn, that empire would consume itself, breaking apart like the fragile thing it is.

  “But I will break this cycle! For what has conquest brought us? Hatred? Death? Rivers of blood spilled, only so we might call ourselves the most powerful? Tell me, my people, what use is honor to a grieving parent? What use are distant territories to those who lost friends and family in the crusade? No more!”

  The silence continued, but it was no longer an uneasy thing. They listened with respect, digesting her words. By now, Ira was a household name, and though many still sided with Andros, the tides had shifted in her favor.

  After this, Vir doubted any naysayers would have the backbone to act. If they did, her freshly rebuilt corps of Handmaidens would be ready and waiting to silence them, and if they weren’t enough, Vir was only too happy to back her up.

  “No longer will Kinjal be a nation that oppresses. It will be a nation that uplifts. No longer will children be taught to worship slaughter. They will be taught the arts, the value of peace, the sanctity of life—human or demon alike! But we will not forget our roots! We will remain Kin’jal. We will become neither soft, nor weak, and should anyone seek to oppress us, they will witness a Kin’jal stronger than ever before!”

  Another wave of cheers swept across the plaza, louder and fiercer.

  “These are but the first of many changes I will bring. Hear me, Kinjal! A new era dawns upon us. For the first time in history, we will not merely conquer. We will thrive!”

  The square exploded with jubilation. Thousands chanted her name, their voices carrying all the way up to her platform.

  Tears streaked down Ira’s face, and Vir couldn’t help but smile. A year ago, she had tried and failed. She had nearly paid the ultimate price for that failure. But instead of crumbling, she returned, tempered and humbled. She’d toiled to regain the people’s trust.

  Vir watched on with pride. Perhaps now, for the first time in history, there might be peace in the Known World. He could not wait to see what sort of empire she would build.