The room was dimly lit, the ground littered with strange symbols drawn in chalk, now smudged and soaked in red. And at the center... was a body.
Twisted. Mangled. Wrong.
Limbs at unnatural angles. The jaw was broken open—too wide—locked in a scream that hadn't been heard. One eye was missing. The chest was torn, not cut, as if something had exploded from within. Bones jutted through where flesh should've held them back. Blood pooled beneath, staining the stone floor dark and thick like syrup. It wasn't just death—it was desecration.
Two figures stood over it.
The first—Emperor Edgar, scowling, blood specks drying on his jaw. "What the hell did they even bring us? Is that pathetic thing supposed to be a mage?"
The other—a cloaked figure, crouched and inspecting the corpse. A hand pressed against the ruined chest cavity. "I was told it's a mage intern. He was probably poorly trained and hadn't learn to stabilize his own mana core."
