The Crown Prince stormed through the halls of the royal palace, his steps heavy with purpose, a storm of emotions raging inside him. His heart burned with fury as he demanded answers, answers from the very man who had once been his father.
"Move!" Ian's voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and unforgiving.
The guards, trembling, tried to stop him, but their voices faltered in the face of his wrath. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but the Emperor is in an important discussion with the Pope."
But Ian would not be deterred. He shoved past the guards, his resolve stronger than ever, and barreled towards the grand doors of the royal conference room. With a force that shook the very foundation of the palace, he busted the doors open.
Inside, his father—the Emperor—sat with the Pope of the Vatican, a look of cold indifference on his face. "What are you doing here, Prince?" the Emperor asked, his voice utterly detached.
Ian froze. A surge of disgust, of betrayal, of rage flooded through him. His father's voice was
nonchalant, unrepentant, as if he hadn't just murdered his own wife, Ian's mother. The sheer audacity of it! The Pope, sitting beside the Emperor, watched with curiosity, though Ian knew deep down that the Church's hand was as dirty as his father's.
"You murdered her!" Ian's voice shattered the air, raw and laced with venom. But his father, ever so calm, did not flinch.
The Emperor sighed and then, with a polite smile, turned to the Pope. "It seems we'll have to continue this later," he said, dismissing the Church official with a flick of his hand.
As the Pope left, Ian could almost feel the weight of his father's calm presence closing in on him, suffocating him.
But there was no time for hesitation. Ian raised his hand, golden aura flaring like a brilliant sun. "I want the truth," he demanded, his words biting. "I know what you've done, but I need to hear it from your lips."
The Emperor's gaze softened, almost sorrowful. "I did what I had to do, son. I'm sorry, but there are simply too many lies hidden beneath the dark,no one knows what's true anymore…"
"You damn hypocrite!" Ian roared, his rage surging forward. The light in his hand blazed brighter, his fingers curling into a tight fist as the power of the Light Art surged through him.
Light Art – First Form: Dawnpiercer.
A spear of pure light shot toward the Emperor, a blinding flash of brilliance, sharp and relentless. Yet the Emperor—without even rising from his seat—raised his hand casually to parry the attack. The attack shattered, as though it was nothing more than a fleeting illusion. He didn't even need to use his own Art to dismiss it.
"You still have a long way to go, son," the Emperor said, his voice impossibly calm, as though Ian's attack was a mere inconvenience.
Ian's heart pounded, his pulse roaring in his ears. He had expected his attack to be blocked, yes, but not like this. His breath caught in his throat, confusion mixing with disbelief. "You're telling me… you don't even need to use your power to stop me?" he thought, his mind racing. How was that even possible? Was his father truly this strong?
Anger and desperation boiled over. Ian would not back down.
"Light Art: Second Form – Luminous Step!"
He blurred into motion, appearing right before his father in the blink of an eye. His sword sliced through the air, aimed to cut the Emperor in half.
But the sword passed right through the Emperor's body like he was made of air. It didn't even leave a scratch.
The Emperor's form flickered, and before Ian could react, a shadowy presence overtook him.
Heavenly Dark Art – First Form: Nihility Cloak.
The Emperor vanished into nothingness, becoming a silhouette of darkness, intangible, untouchable. The very air around Ian seemed to turn cold and oppressive.
The son wielded Light; the father wielded Darkness. A clash of opposites. The heavens themselves had woven this twisted tapestry—had they destined one to destroy the other? Was it fate or just a cruel joke?
Fear gripped Ian's chest. His father's power was beyond his comprehension, too vast, too deep. The Emperor was not merely strong; he was a force of nature, an embodiment of darkness itself.
Ian turned, trying to escape, but it was already too late.
Heavenly Dark Art – Second Form: Abyssal Bind.
A wave of shadowy chains erupted from the ground, coiling around Ian's body, squeezing the breath from him. His limbs were locked in place, his aura drained. The suffocating power of the Abyss sealed him into an unbreakable grip. He could feel the darkness crawling into his very soul, gnawing at his thoughts.
"What's happening?" Ian gasped, his body trembling, unable to move an inch. His father's voice echoed through the suffocating dark.
"Son," the Emperor's tone was dangerously calm, almost… fatherly. "Since this is the first time you've acted like this, one punch will suffice." His eyes glinted with something far darker. "Next time, you pull this stunt again… I will kill you myself."
In an instant, the Emperor's fist slammed into Ian's chest, the impact so powerful it shook the entire palace, the sound reverberating through the stone walls. Ian's body flew backward, crashing into the ground with a sickening thud.
"Release."
The chains dissolved. Ian fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Blood trickled from his mouth as he struggled to stay upright, his body bruised, his spirit broken.
The Emperor's eyes glowed, cold and final.
"Now get out.
...............….
"I lost, but at least I gained something," Ian muttered to himself.
The seemingly reckless decision to confront his father in front of the pope was, in fact, a calculated move. Ian had set this trap with a purpose in mind. He needed answers.
First, he had to know if the pope was involved in his mother's death. Second, he needed to confirm whether someone else, other than his stepmother, was controlling his father.
Now, he had his answers. The pope was not the puppet master. The emperor, his father, was still in charge—above even the pope.But there was something even more sinister at play. It was clear now: his stepmother, the empress, was the true architect of the chaos that had gripped their family.
A smirk crossed Ian's face as the realization sank in. His stepmother, the woman who had carefully manipulated everyone around her, was the true power behind his father's actions.
This was only the beginning of what Ian would do next.