Shaine rose calmly from the throne and took a single step forward.
Before the presence of that step could settle into the space, he vanished in an instant—as if his existence had been nothing more than a fleeting echo, leaving behind a heavy void that suffocated the hall.
Harveil and Shiva slowly raised their heads toward the place where His Majesty had been standing.
A long silence followed, one filled with an indescribable sense of reverence.
Shiva spoke, his voice carrying a mix of concern and caution.
"Harveil… don't you feel that His Majesty has changed a little compared to before?
It feels as if he's no longer the same person—always impulsive in his decisions and quick to anger.
Did you notice that too?"
A faint smile appeared on Harveil's face, concealing deep thought.
"As for his anger," Harveil replied, "you simply didn't arrive early enough.
But regarding his decisions and demeanor… I think you're right.
Even in his eyes and expressions, there's something different.
I can't say for certain whether he has truly changed, but it's a strange feeling—one I was never accustomed to sensing from His Majesty."
A brief silence passed before Harveil continued, his tone growing more serious.
"Even his aura feels impossibly pure.
I can sense traces of his mana fused directly with his soul.
I believe that during the time he was sealed, he surpassed multiple stages in the evolution of both his soul and mana.
I can't determine the stage he has reached—whether due to the magnitude of his power, or because my perception can no longer measure it."
A sense of unease appeared clearly on Shiva's face, as if Harveil's words had confirmed his own suspicions.
"I thought I was the only one unable to discern his level," Shiva said.
"But even you, Harveil, can't measure it.
I believe His Majesty has become far more dangerous than before—
powerful, spiritually and physically refined…
as if he has become an existence beyond our understanding."
Harveil lowered his gaze slightly before speaking in a subdued voice.
"Do you think he's close to their level, Shiva?"
Shiva hesitated, the weight of the question evident.
"I honestly don't know.
In that place, there were many whose levels I couldn't sense at all.
I have no clear answer.
But the only conclusion I can reach is that His Majesty's strength can no longer be measured by people like us."
Harveil nodded slowly.
"Yes… you're right.
We must strengthen our own mana until it merges with our souls and ascend to a new state of existence.
Great wars await us in the future.
And don't forget His Majesty's objective—
and ours—from long ago."
Shiva fell silent for a moment before lifting his head again.
"Harveil, I think we should contact the other Seraphs."
Harveil shook his head, his voice calm yet firm.
"Not yet.
Let them roam the empire.
They may gather information and power we'll need later.
As I've told you before, this mortal world is filled with powerful beings—especially within this empire.
We may face wars here before reaching the great war.
We must prepare here first.
And you understand this world better than I do."
A faint smile crossed Shiva's face.
"Your judgment is always sound, Harveil.
You have always been—and will always remain—His Majesty's right hand."
Silence once again settled over the hall, like the calm before a storm.
Shiva broke it once more.
"So then, Harveil… what will you do now?
Will you leave the fortress, or remain here?"
"I'll stay," Harveil answered after a moment's thought.
"I'll train and remain by His Majesty's side until he emerges from his seclusion.
And you?"
A spark of excitement appeared in Shiva's eyes.
"I'll stay as well.
It's been a long time since we last trained together."
Harveil's eyes gleamed, as if an old memory had been revived.
"Then how about a sparring match between us?" he said.
"It's been far too long since we last crossed blades.
My sword feels as though its spirit has dulled from disuse.
I wish to restore its pulse."
Shiva's excitement ignited instantly.
"As you wish, Harveil.
I, too, have missed battle."
A heavy silence fell—the kind that precedes an explosion.
The two stepped several paces apart and exchanged sharp gazes, the gazes of warriors who understood exactly what battle between them entailed.
Harveil drew his sword and pointed its tip toward Shiva.
A wide smile spread across Shiva's face.
In the next instant, a massive dark-red scythe materialized beside him, radiating a terrifying aura.
So it's that scythe… Harveil thought.
The Scythe of Apocalypse.
It's been a long time since I last saw it.
Harveil smiled with unrestrained excitement as Shiva gripped the Scythe of Apocalypse and aimed it toward him.
The Scythe of Apocalypse is the only weapon capable of standing against you,
Shiva thought.
O right hand of His Majesty.
A silence deeper than any before descended.
Then, in the same instant, both unleashed their auras.
Two overwhelming forces collided with the void itself.
Had any ordinary human been nearby, they would have perished instantly from the pressure alone.
And in a single flash, the two lunged toward each other at blinding speed—
wide smiles on their faces,
smiles filled with nothing but pure, unrestrained exhilaration.