Chapter 16: The Grand Masquerade of Sin
The Capital City of Oakhaven was a sea of gold and silk. The "Imperial Solstice Festival" had arrived, a week-long celebration of the Sun God's victory over the primordial darkness. For centuries, this festival had been a display of the Empire's absolute power. But this year, the air felt different. A cold wind blew from the direction of the Zenith Academy, carrying with it a scent that some elders described as "the smell of an old tomb."
Cyan Valerian stood at the balcony of the Imperial Carriage, his eyes cold as he watched the cheering crowds. Beside him sat Servina and Prince Kaelen. To the public, they looked like the perfect icons of the Empire's future. To Cyan, they were merely decorative puppets.
"Remember your roles," Cyan whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "Kaelen, you will present me to your father as the 'Hero of the Academy.' Servina, you will testify that my 'divine' mana saved the students from a plague. If either of you falters, the void I planted in your hearts will consume your voices first."
"Yes... Master," they replied in unison, their voices hollow.
The Imperial Palace was a marvel of architectural arrogance. Towering spires of white marble reached for the sky, and the Grand Ballroom was illuminated by thousands of floating Sun-Crystals. At the far end of the hall, sitting on the Sun-Throne, was Emperor Valerius III. He was a man of immense presence, his mana level so high that the air around him shimmered with heat.
As Cyan and his entourage entered, the music stopped. A thousand noble eyes fell upon the "Disgraced Marquess" who had somehow returned to the center of power.
"My son," the Emperor's voice boomed, vibrating through the floorboards. "You return from the academy with strange tales. You speak of trials and shadows, yet you bring the son of Valerian as your closest ally. Explain this."
Kaelen stepped forward, his movements fluid but robotic. He knelt before the throne. "Father, I was blinded by my own arrogance. Cyan Valerian is not a traitor; he is the chosen vessel. During the great shadow outbreak in the library, it was his power—a power we misunderstood—that purified the corruption. He is the Empire's strongest shield."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the nobility. The Emperor narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through Kaelen as if trying to find a crack in his soul.
"And you, Saintess?" the Emperor asked. "Does the Church confirm this?"
Servina stepped forward, her face radiant with a false, sickly light. "The Gods work in mysterious ways, Your Majesty. Cyan Valerian's mana is not darkness; it is the 'Black Flame of Purification.' It is a rare, ancient blessing. The High Inquisitor Malachi himself is currently at the academy, documenting these miracles."
The Emperor leaned back, his hand gripping the armrest of his throne. He was no fool; he sensed the wrongness in the air. But with the Prince and the Saintess both testifying in Cyan's favor, any move against him would look like madness.
"Very well," the Emperor said, a cold smile forming on his lips. "If he is a hero, then he shall be treated as one. Tonight, at the Masquerade, Cyan Valerian will be granted the 'Imperial Seal of Merit.' Let us see if this 'Black Flame' can withstand the brilliance of our court."
As the night progressed, the ballroom transformed into a "Masquerade of Shadows." Every noble wore a mask, hiding their true faces while seeking favor and power. Cyan moved through the crowd like a shark in a pond of goldfish.
"Master," Isabella whispered, appearing behind him in a dress of midnight silk. "The 'Blight-Vials' have been placed in the ventilation system. Every noble in this room is currently breathing in a micro-dose of your corruption. In three hours, they will be susceptible to 'The King's Command'."
"Perfect," Cyan replied, accepting a glass of wine from a masked servant. "Where is the Emperor's mistress? The Duchess of Elms?"
"In the East Wing, as you suspected. She is the true power behind the throne's financial decisions. Lilith is already... entertaining her."
Cyan walked toward the East Wing, his purple eye glowing behind his silver mask. He entered a private study where Duchess Elena sat, her eyes wide with terror. Lilith was draped over the Duchess's chair like a serpent, her claws grazing the woman's throat.
"Marquess Valerian," the Duchess choked out. "What is the meaning of this?"
"The meaning is simple, Duchess," Cyan said, sitting on the edge of her desk. "Your Emperor is old. His light is fading. I am offering you a chance to serve a King whose reign will never end. All I need is the key to the 'Imperial Treasury's Forbidden Vault'."
"I would rather die!" she spat.
"Oh, you will die, Elena," Cyan whispered, leaning closer. "But then I'll bring you back. And believe me, the version of you that returns won't be nearly as pretty."
Cyan activated the [System Skill: Soul-Thread Manipulation].
Strands of violet energy erupted from his fingertips, burrowing into the Duchess's temples. Her screams were muffled by a silence spell cast by Lilith. Within minutes, her eyes turned that familiar, haunting shade of violet.
"The key... is in the Emperor's private chambers," she whispered, her voice devoid of life. "But it is guarded by the 'Ancient Sun-Golems'."
"Golems can be broken," Cyan said, standing up.
Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the palace. The ground shook, and the sound of screaming filled the air.
[System Warning: An Unregistered High-Level Entity has entered the Palace.]
[Detection: The 'Hero of the North', Duke Silvermane, has arrived.]
Cyan's smile widened. "The last piece of the puzzle has arrived. The only man the Emperor truly trusts. This night is becoming more entertaining by the second."
Cyan turned to his system interface.
[New Quest: 'The Execution of the North'.]
[Objective: Corrupt or Kill Duke Silvermane in front of the Emperor.]
"Isabella, Elara, Lilith," Cyan's voice was cold as ice. "The masquerade is over. It's time to show them the face of their new God."