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The court Arena fell into a tense, oppressive silence. The Emperor Ryon glared down at Kent from his towering throne.
The audience, filled with nobles, generals, and onlookers from various corners of the realm, watched with bated breath. Kent, bound by shimmering magical restraints, had just dared to laugh in the face of the Emperor’s sentencing, his laughter echoing through the court like a dark omen.
“You dare laugh at your own execution, murderer? Have you no sense of fear? No respect for the throne?” The Emperor’s voice, amplified by the enchanted yantras positioned around the arena, boomed through the silence.
Kent’s laughter faded into a smirk, and he raised his head, his eyes glowing from beneath his mask with a cold, defiant light. “Fear? Respect?” His voice was steady, almost too calm for someone facing certain death. “I respect truth and justice. But this Judgment? This is no trial. This is nothing but a pre-written script delivered with grandeur, meant to appease the masses while burying the truth. You ask no questions, seek no evidence. Where is the witness? Where is the truth?” Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire
The Emperor’s eyes flickered with rage, and murmurs rippled through the crowd, astonished by Kent’s audacity.
Kent’s voice grew louder, cutting through the whispers, “Even a common court would allow the accused to speak, to present their side. If your royal family holds any value in the concept of justice, then let the Queen, your supposed witness, speak. If she names me the culprit, I will accept your judgment and die without protest. But until then, this trial is nothing but a sham!”
The crowd gasped, and the tension in the room thickened. The Emperor, his pride wounded, tightened his grip on the Judgment Staff. His face darkened further, his anger barely contained as he leaned forward, speaking in a low, dangerous tone.
“The Queen will not lower herself to attend to the likes of you, criminal. She has far more important matters than offering witness to the beast that tried to murder her. She herself demanded your imprisonment, and it was by her orders that you were tortured.”
“Lies!” Kent’s voice rang out like a thunderclap, causing another ripple of shock among the crowd. “Lies told by your palace guards and wizards, puppets of your will! The truth is buried, but it will be known the moment she speaks. If she truly claims I am the one who attacked her, I will accept my fate. But let her speak. If she does, no one will question your judgment or the values of the Quinn family.”
The Emperor hesitated, his gaze sweeping over the vast hall. The crowd had grown restless, whispering to each other, many now eager to hear what the Queen might say.
This trial, which had been expected to be a mere formality, was turning into something far more dramatic.
The Emperor, though furious, could see the crowd’s eagerness for more. His royal dignity and the honor of his Quinn family were now tied to this moment. Denying Kent’s request outright would be seen as a failure of the Quinn family’s sense of justice.
With a heavy sigh, the Emperor turned toward the Chief Minister, who sat at the side. The minister, understanding the Emperor’s silent command, rose and addressed the court.
“Before the Queen speaks, as the accused has demanded, let us first hear from the accused himself. He shall recount the events that transpired in the Musical Hall, the day of the Doom family’s tragic demise. If his story aligns with the Queen’s testimony, the Emperor will consider his plea. If not, justice will be swift and unforgiving.”
There was a collective murmur of approval from the crowd. This was what they had come for—a drama to unfold before their eyes, a spectacle that would be talked about for generations.
Kent stood tall despite his restraints, his voice cutting through the noise. “The Doom family and I had an ongoing disagreement over the construction of the teleportation gate. I paid five times the construction cost to ensure the project was completed in a timely manner. But suddenly, they halted all progress, without explanation. They called for a meeting—at the Musical Hall—under the guise of resolving the issue.”
He paused, scanning the faces of those around him, as the audience hung onto his every word.
“When I arrived, they were waiting for me. King Hoon Doom, his daughter, Princess Chuli, and trap master of palace. But it wasn’t a negotiation—they demanded that I hand over the Dead Island City, a territory that I rightfully claimed.
They claimed it was a sentimental location to their ancestors and offered me a single mana stone in return for the city. A single mana stone, for a city I had invested my resources into.”
The crowd gasped, shocked at the audacity of the Doom family’s demand. Kent continued, his tone hardening. “I refused. It was no business deal—it was a threat. The moment I declined, they sprang their trap. Twelve trap masters surrounded me, activating a Lotus Formation to imprison me. Their plan was simple—force me to relinquish the city or die.”
The crowd buzzed with nervous energy, the air thick with tension. Even the Emperor leaned slightly forward in his seat, intrigued despite himself.
Kent’s voice dropped. “I fought back. I broke the formation, barely escaping with my life. But instead of stopping, they came at me with full force—King Hoon Doom, his daughter, and the trap masters. They intended to kill me. I defended myself. I had no choice.”
The audience erupted into murmurs, shocked by the sudden turn of events. The idea of the Doom family attacking someone in the Royal Palace without provocation was unthinkable to many. Yet here Kent was, boldly accusing them of such treachery.
“I defended myself,” Kent repeated, his eyes burning with intensity. “And in that fight, they lost their lives. But it was not murder. It was survival. If I hadn’t acted, I would be the one lying dead today, and you would be celebrating the Doom family’s victory over an innocent man.”
Silence once again descended over the courtroom, every eye fixed on the Emperor, waiting for his response. The Emperor’s face was unreadable, his anger tempered by the weight of the revelations.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “You claim this was self-defense. You claim the Doom family attacked you first. But where is the proof?”
Kent’s eyes gleamed with defiance. “The proof stands in the words of the only witness—the Queen. Let her speak, and the truth will be revealed.”
The Emperor hesitated, caught between his pride and the rising tension in the room.
The crowd, now hungry for more, watched in anticipation, eager to see whether the Emperor would call upon the Queen to give her testimony.
This trial, which was supposed to be swift and decisive, had turned into a battle of wits, a contest of truth and deception that would decide not only Kent’s fate but the integrity of the throne itself.
But just then an idea sparked inside the emperor’s brain.
