During his academy days, No professor actively taught Azar, and Azar pretended to be a dullard. The longer this period lasted, the more he sank into the despair of truly becoming a dullard.

“Azar. You’re outstanding. You absorb whatever you learn quickly.”

The acknowledgment from the genius Arthur was salvation for Azar, who had long been suppressed.

I thought everyone could do this.

Until then, Azar had no point of comparison.

So, he didn’t realize that unlike himself, many people couldn’t remember things from over a decade ago as if they happened yesterday, nor could they memorize even a single textbook properly. After realizing this, the prince found joy in discovering his talents hidden in various fields beyond academics and gradually wanted to compare what he had that surpassed Arthur.

Lineage? Not even worth mentioning.

Mental maturity? Yes. Surely, he was a few steps ahead, having endured countless gazes on the thin ice of the court.

“I don’t like conforming to the world. So I’ll change the world to my liking.”

Hearing Arthur’s words, Azar was convinced. Arthur was more naive than he thought.

Can an individual change the world? That’s a delusion only possible in fairy tales. People who dislike the world either end up dying, compromising to become part of it, or turning away and retreating.

“Nice. That response.”

Azar hoped to find more of Arthur’s shortcomings. He believed that only then could he close the gap between them. Azar admired Arthur.

“Unless the future emperor legitimizes the Mage Tower.”

With that one sentence, Arthur reminded Azar of his forgotten dream of becoming emperor.

Azar followed Arthur’s journey, expecting that time would make them equals.

However, as time passed...

“How do you feel about these many people rushing towards you?”

Azar felt a sense of alienation, realizing the ever-widening gap.

Aren’t they rushing towards the illusion of me that you created, not towards me?

Only then did Azar realize that Arthur had known since their academy days that he had the power to change the world.

“Mage Tower wizards will also serve as your royal guards. I will ensure you ascend to the throne securely.”

Azar nodded. He didn’t want to abandon the opportunity his bloodline gave him. Having come this far, he had to become emperor. However, as he built the empire with Arthur, Azar could not endure the discomfort of his dream becoming corrupted.

But becoming emperor without Arthur is unthinkable.

While shivering with such concerns…

“You want to be his equal, don’t you?”

A ‘whisper’ echoed from deep within him. Though he didn’t know when it had nestled inside him,

Yes, it’s an impossible dream. I’m just going to become a mask for that guy and hand over the empire.

“No, no. If you can’t rise to his level, why not pull him down to yours?”

This presence understood Azar’s heart, something Arthur could never grasp. It even knew secrets about Arthur that Arthur himself didn’t know.

Azar made the ‘whisper’ his new master instead of Arthur. Using its power, he secretly allied with the church, planted traitors in the Mage Tower, and snatched Roxellan from Arthur, subjecting him to vile humiliation.

You have no idea what’s going on, do you?

As Arthur deteriorated, Azar felt an unparalleled sense of accomplishment.

Yes, continue to fall. Right to my feet.

The dead saint will become a wick of hatred burning within you, eventually consuming your entire being.

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And then...

Today, this feeling will finally end.

Azar stepped on the floor of the grand reception room. The once lavish carpet was now covered in soot and dust, turning the once splendid space into ruins. The emperor, who had admired the view like a masterpiece, fixed his gaze on one spot.

“…I should have cut off your arm, not just your fingers.”

Arthur was glaring at Azar, standing over the bodies of the knights he had sent ahead. His arm was crudely splinted, and his fingers had been roughly replaced with carved wooden ones. Despite this condition, he was a monstrous magician capable of massacring elite soldiers.

“I wanted to preserve your body as much as possible. I owe you a lot, after all.”

“I appreciate your petty mercy. Thanks to it, we meet again like this.”

“Even Grand Duke Shalvarat abandoned you? Why are you here alone in the Dieron house when you were supposed to join them?”

“Why bother gathering everyone together only to be annihilated?” Arthur replied nonchalantly. “I came here because there are many hiding spots. Doubting even the basic tactics that a commoner child would know? Your mind has truly deteriorated, you pitiful fool.”

Azar’s temple twitched. “Pitiful? Your arrogance remains unchanged. That indulgence is what brought you to this state, Arthur.”

In Azar’s hand was a familiar item: a jewel box that had already consumed the souls of nine royals.

“The last soul is supposed to be mine? I’m not even royalty.”

“Your worth surpasses royalty, and now you show this ridiculous humility. You finally realize this is where you will die,” Azar replied, though facing the composed Arthur, his hands trembled from the rising fear. He resorted to incoherent taunts to provoke Arthur. “Come to think of it, the saint was always daring. It was a feeling I had never experienced in my life.”

Arthur didn’t move.

Was it not enough?

“It was truly amusing.”

Arthur’s jaw and neck muscles twitched as he stared at Azar. Just as Azar felt a glimmer of hope that his words had finally struck a nerve...

“…Hah.” A disdainful sigh escaped Arthur, gnawing at Azar’s insides. “What nonsense are you spouting till the end, you idiot?”

Even the faintest murmur from Arthur, barely audible on purpose.

Azar gritted his teeth as if they were about to shatter and commanded, "Bring him in."

At that, a side of the encirclement parted, and a group of elite soldiers came in, accompanied by wizards with arms or hands that were all but intact.

Arthur's eyes, which had been narrow like a crescent moon, widened. "Don't do it, you bastard!"

Arthur's urgent voice rang out, but the imperial soldiers cut them down in an instant.

"Master of the Tower! Gah!"

"Please spare me! Please…."

Their death cries echoed. Arthur stared blankly at the death of the wizards he had personally chosen and nurtured.

"Don't be too disheartened. I've spared one of your disciples, so your achievements will remain in this empire as his."

Arthur's gaze shifted back to Azar. His eyes were dry and lifeless.

Seeing that his provocation had finally worked, Azar burst into laughter.

"Puhaha…!"

It was a laugh filled with complex emotions—joy, anger, self-loathing, and even admiration. Arthur, who had been looking at Azar in confusion, noticed a black shimmer behind him. It was an unfamiliar, otherworldly presence.

What has he summoned?

"Let me ask you one last thing." Arthur asked, shaking off the weight pressing on his chest. "Why are you doing this to me? No matter how much I think about it, I can't recall doing anything to deserve such retaliation from you."

"There is no reason. Everything about you just pissed me off," Azar replied immediately.

Arthur noticed his slightly trembling eyes and the corners of his mouth. Having clawed his way up through countless lies, Arthur saw the truth.

Even to the end, you're lying.

"Fine. I understand."

With that, he calmly adjusted his stance. Soon, blue mana, which had formed a distinct shape, gathered around him in a shimmering surge. Suddenly, the ground trembled.

"Aaagh!"

"Don't attack each other! Spread out!"

The imperial soldiers screamed in unison. They all saw it. The blue line that had gathered towards Arthur's heart was turning green and dark gray, growing larger, grandiose, and overwhelmingly oppressive to the point of freezing.

It was clearly the trajectory of black magic.

Azar, flustered, nearly dropped the sword he was holding.

He was a real black magician?

There was one secret about Arthur that even Azar didn't know. Arthur could also use black magic. It was just that, being able to freely use white magic, he had no need to risk using black magic.

I have to kill him quickly! If I hesitate, I'll die.

Azar grew desperate. With Arthur's hands not fully intact, this was the only chance to kill him while he couldn't exert even half of his original power.

Srring─.

He drew his sword and charged at Arthur. In that fleeting moment, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

'es. This is an opportunity!

An opportunity to kill a real dark mage, not a fabricated one, and become a great emperor.

An opportunity to cleanse the empire of impurities and seize the complete throne.

At the moment Azar's sword struck.

Swick.

Arthur dispelled his magic and willingly met his sword.

Thunk... Thunk thunk....

Arthur's head, severed without resistance, bounced a few times on the ground before rolling onto the carpet.