Round 30: The Night of Conclusion (Part 1)

Something’s wrong—definitely something’s wrong!
Lucas had begun to feel uneasy ever since several distinguished guests left his estate one after another. When he tried to go to the palace or the Council to gather news, he was shocked to find that there were three times as many guards outside his gates as usual, all of them strangers. There was no need for further speculation—something serious must have happened.
In an instant, Lucas realized that the royal family was finally planning to take action against the Council. He was well aware that the emperor had such intentions, but he never expected it to happen so quickly.
After all, wasn’t this the perfect moment—right after the death of Archmage Yatu, during the national celebration for a major victory over the elves? Why had it taken him so long to realize this?
Returning to the hall and seeing the extravagant revelry among the guests, Lucas suddenly felt as though this was all an unreal dream, and the moment of awakening was approaching.
“Hehehe, drink, drink! What’s the matter, Lord Lucas? Hehehe…” A drunken noble official slung himself toward Lucas. Lucas frowned in disgust—this certainly didn’t resemble the behavior of a noble minister; he looked no different from a drunkard from the slums.
Looking around, Lucas saw that the place was filled with so-called nobles who pretended to be superior but were actually full of vices. He finally realized that all his years of hard work and scheming had only resulted in gathering around him a bunch of useless people who would abandon him at the first sign of trouble. When he was penniless, they despised and mocked him; when he rose to power, they fawned over him; and when he fell on hard times, they either left him or turned against him. The so-called connections and political foundation he once valued had now become a complete joke.
“Ugh!” A belch hit Lucas in the face, nearly making him vomit. “I toast to you, Lord L-L-Lucas…”
Unable to bear it any longer, Lucas snatched the silver goblet and smashed it on the ground. With the spilled wine and the loud crash of the shattered goblet, the music stopped. The noble lords dancing with the ladies ceased moving, and the eloquent government officials stopped talking. All eyes turned to Judge Lucas, whose face had turned purple.
In the silence, a loud voice came from outside: “His Majesty Emperor Stanley III of the Agus Empire has arrived!”
Before the echoes faded, the doors were suddenly flung open as if kicked aside. Emperor Stanley III entered first, ignoring everyone around him, followed by Foreign Minister Spencer and a full squad of heavily armed royal guards.
Everyone quickly stepped back, clearing a path straight to the emperor’s seat. As the emperor passed by Lucas, he didn’t even glance at the judge.

All the guests were clearly unprepared for the emperor’s sudden arrival. The men bowed their heads, the women bent their backs, staring at the numerous armored soldiers standing on both sides of the hall and surrounding His Majesty, not daring to breathe even slightly.
“Go on, don’t let me ruin everyone’s fun!” Stanley III sat in Lucas’s seat, casually picking up a golden goblet from the table. He gently shook the wine inside while looking at the crowd, which included almost all of Agus’s nobles. “I’ve already ordered that I take over all the powers of the Supreme Council. I’m here just to watch a good show with you all. There’s no need for formalities.”
His last words seemed to cast a powerful spell among the crowd, causing quite a stir.
“What right do you have to do this? Since the founding of the Agus Empire…” It was the man who had toasted Lucas before. Whether from the shock of this sudden turn of events or stimulated by the emperor’s last words, he suddenly seemed much more alert. But he couldn’t stay alert for long— a silver-armored warrior beside him suddenly drew his sword. In a flash, the unnamed official’s head was severed from his body.
Blood splattered all over Lucas as screams erupted. Several noblewomen immediately fainted.
A servant beside the emperor walked over to the musicians and clapped twice, signaling them to continue playing. The terrified musicians trembled as they picked up their instruments, and strange, off-key music began to play.
“I said, no need for formalities. Go on.” The emperor, who had always seemed kind and even somewhat timid, still wore a smile, but cruelty and ferocity gradually appeared in his expression. “Judge Lucas, please come forward.”
No one actually continued dancing or drinking. They were too frightened to even breathe. The music, which should have been cheerful and relaxed, now sounded extremely mournful, almost like a funeral tune.
Lucas slowly stepped forward, beginning to understand the emperor’s plan. Even if he could succeed in defeating the Council, the mages’ counterattack and final strike could still be terrifying. The emperor came to his own residence partly to punish traitors, but he might also have intended to avoid the mages’ attacks. Compared to that, his own residence, which had close ties to the Council, was much safer—meaning even the emperor himself wasn’t guaranteed to win!
“Does His Majesty really think he can deal with the Supreme Council? I don’t think it’s that easy!” Judge Lucas spoke with little confidence, yet his tone remained somewhat defiant. In this situation, begging for mercy was a dead end. The only way to save himself temporarily was to expose the emperor’s hidden fears.
The emperor raised his eyebrows. It seemed killing one person earlier hadn’t deterred this judge at all.

In the Agus Empire, from the royal nobility to the common people, no one could remain confident without their mages and the Council. Thus, the Council could not be completely destroyed but only taken under control. At the same time, destroying the Council meant destroying Singh’s almost mythic authority among the Agus people and establishing one’s own authority—especially in front of all the Agus nobles gathered here!

“Very well, I’ll keep you around so we can see what the ultimate outcome will be!” Watch as your so-called divine Council and its representatives will soon be utterly destroyed by me!

When O’Sullivan entered Vatan City, the Seven Sins Tower on the north side of the city gates was already surrounded by layers of Agus Empire guards. In both the southern and northern districts, thick plumes of smoke rose from several locations. Although there were only disciplined and orderly imperial soldiers near the city gates, faint cries and screams seemed to come from afar.

Waiting at the city gates was still his own carriage, with the old butler, Nauf, waiting for him inside.

“What’s going on?” O’Sullivan asked as soon as he got into the carriage and settled in, looking out through the window.

“Mage Kond and Lord Darna have led forces to surround the Council, while Lord Kurit is leading troops to search the city for the Council’s mages…” Nauf replied respectfully and quickly. O’Sullivan glanced outside at the sky illuminated by flames. No wonder—the Council’s mages living in the city had also been trapped. “His Majesty the Emperor is currently at Judge Lucas’s residence.”

Judge Lucas’s residence?

O’Sullivan looked at Nauf with a questioning gaze, but the latter clearly had no intention of answering further.

“Young master, you’re bleeding. Shall I…?”

“It’s fine. I’ve already bandaged it. Now I need to find Mage Kond… No, I should go to His Majesty first. I have important matters to report.”

O’Sullivan had to pass through three lines of imperial guards before entering Judge Lucas’s residence. It wasn’t until he entered the hall that he realized this wasn’t just to protect the Emperor’s safety—almost the entire ruling class of Agus was gathered here, aside from the mages.

“Count O’Sullivan, this way!” Spencer, near the door, spotted O’Sullivan and guided him to an inner room—exactly the room where Kond had killed Flikina. But it seemed no one had realized it was a crime scene yet.

O’Sullivan moved through the crowd, facing curious, puzzled, indifferent, or flattering looks. By now, people had gradually recovered from the recent upheaval and were gathering in small groups, whispering to each other. The musicians and other servants seemed to have been sent elsewhere. O’Sullivan’s arrival plunged the hall back into silence—so quiet that a pin falling to the ground could be heard clearly.

O’Sullivan noticed the heavily armed imperial guards around him and a faint bloodstain on the floor. It seemed His Majesty had firmly taken control of the situation.

Entering the inner chamber, O’Sullivan saw several high-ranking nobles and cabinet ministers gathered together, including Lucas, all of them with pale faces. None of them spoke as O’Sullivan entered. The Emperor stood by a huge floor-to-ceiling window; outside, in the darkness of the night, the towering Seven Sins Tower stood like a silhouette, casting an even darker outline against the night sky.

“Your Majesty!” O’Sullivan rushed forward a few steps and knelt behind Emperor Stanley III. “When I arrived at the agreed location, I found that all the members of the Red Robe Mage Society had been killed by Archmage Quentin. Quentin was also severely injured. I was lucky enough to kill him, but the mage forces in the forest…”

O’Sullivan lied a little. Although his success in killing Quentin was largely due to luck, the news still made Lucas gasp in shock, while the Emperor naturally breathed a sigh of relief.

“You did well!” The Emperor waved his hand, signaling O’Sullivan to stand up. “Now go to the Seven Sins Tower immediately. Mage Kond and Lord Darna are there. If we can quickly take control of the tower and seize the Council, we won’t have to worry about the mage forces.”

Yet O’Sullivan did not lift his head. “My father was in Quentin’s hands at that time. He has sacrificed himself for the empire!”

“I see.” The Emperor’s tone was calm, as if he had known about it all along. “That’s unfortunate. This is your chance to avenge the Council. Go!”

“Did Your Majesty already know that my father was in the hands of the Council?” O’Sullivan was well aware that moving such an important prisoner out of the imperial prison, even if it was a secret operation by the Council, could not have gone unnoticed by the Emperor.

The Emperor hesitated slightly, seemingly unprepared for such a question.

“I received a report from the warden, saying that Quentin had taken the old count out of prison…” Suddenly, the Emperor’s voice rose slightly, even becoming stern. “The old count sacrificed himself for the country. That is a great honor for him and for the O’Sullivan family. I will surely grant additional rewards. You need not worry about such matters. Go and carry out your task!”

O’Sullivan silently stood up, bowed, and turned to leave. The moment he stepped out of the room and closed the door, he could still hear the Emperor’s triumphant voice behind him: “Lucas, I will show you my victory. Watch what happens to those who defy me!”

This was the Emperor—this was what all human rulers were like. They were cruel to their enemies and took their achievements for granted. His father had achieved great things in the first half of his life but spent the second half in prison. He had always believed he was worthy of the Augustus Empire. Yes, he indeed was worthy of the empire—it was the empire that was unworthy of him.

The door clicked shut behind O’Sullivan, sounding extremely harsh in the once again silent hall, its echo lingering for a long time. Kond, one of the seven highest mages of the Council, stood beneath the magnificent stars, looking at the five chairs at the end of “Between the Stars” with both ambition and resentment.

The army loyal to the royal family encountered surprisingly little fierce resistance while taking control of the Seven Towers—aside from a few key mages, Kond controlled almost all the allocation and disposal of construct weapons outside the Tower of Sins. Over the years of colluding with the Agus royal family, he had secretly stockpiled many construct weapons, some declared obsolete, some deemed unsuitable for use, and others damaged for various inexplicable reasons. Even several attacks on the transport troops blamed on the Night Elves were actually Kond’s doing. For this reason, nearly all of the royal forces attacking the Council were equipped with construct armor developed by the Council’s mages.

No matter how well you guard against threats, it’s hard to stop those within your own ranks. Yet no one dared say this to Archmage Kond. He was the supreme commander of the operation to “cleanse” the Council that night, holding a position even higher than Darna’s. If everything went smoothly—which had been quite smooth so far—he would become the new Supreme Council Leader by tomorrow.

Kond knew coming here now wasn’t the best choice. Even though Tanolanti had pledged secret support to him, he was still nowhere in sight, and such support was likely just empty words. It didn’t matter; as long as he caused no trouble. Aresha certainly wouldn’t help him, but she probably wouldn’t hold him back either—after all, she had been suppressed by Singer for decades and must be full of resentment. As for Quentin, his subordinates reported he had left the city, likely to deal with those Red Robe mages who colluded with O’Sullivan. He was like a watchdog desperate for Singer’s praise, biting around randomly—he would likely struggle to return in time. Even if he could, Kond wasn’t afraid of his abilities. The real issue was that the two great mages, Singer and Kiskein, hadn’t shown up yet. Just those two could represent half of the Agus mages’ strength!

A light-armed swordsman rushed up behind Kond and knelt on one knee. “Archmage Quentin of the Council has been killed by Count Yuri O’Sullivan. He’s already on his way to the Tower of Sins!”

Hearing this, surprise appeared on Kond’s face. Yuri could actually kill Bald Quentin? Although Quentin was the youngest and weakest among them, he wasn’t without merit—it seemed necessary to be wary of this O’Sullivan kid.

Kond glanced one last time at the five chairs, turned, and walked away, giving orders to the two silent black heavy construct golems beside him: “Destroy those chairs!”

Forty-Seven grabbed one of the constructs by the neck with one hand and lifted it from below the waist—with the assumption it had testicles, this move would crush its valves. With a sharp pull, its oddly shaped parts scattered everywhere. Then Forty-Seven flung the two halves of the construct in different directions, knocking down several more like bowling balls.

A heavy blow to the back sent 47 staggering forward a few steps. He turned his head 180 degrees to search for the attacker and saw a creature that seemed like two beings back to back, lunging at him with fierce intent. Its four legs made screeching noises as they stepped on pipes and debris, while its upper body was covered with giant spinning iron balls at its limbs. Its two heads were fused together, and between their mouths, which opened and closed endlessly emitting meaningless noises, were seven or eight eyes glowing with an indifferent light.

Then a violent arc of electricity exploded above its head, turning this fused monster into countless irregular pieces.

It’s just as annoying as Shalubou. 47 followed up with a hook punch, sending the creature that had pounced to bite him flying into the ceiling. Before it could even touch the metal dome, it was completely disintegrated by the powerful magic sealing off the area—only its razor-sharp fangs clattered to the ground.

The initial insect-like creatures were all gone now. Those that appeared were reassembled from their scattered limbs into human-like or indistinct forms, launching wave after wave of futile attacks at 47 without fatigue or fear. As for the steel giant deep within the pipes, it remained silent and motionless, just like the phantom that had appeared in 47’s mind system many times since he obtained Oswald’s combat weapon, Atlas.

Did that old man lock me here just to watch a gladiatorial fight? A creature with seven or eight arms rushed at him unsteadily. The charred hole in its chest was a reminder left by 47 during their last encounter, and that faceless, flat face was one 47 seemed to have seen five times already.

But this would be the last time. 47 carefully raised his hand and injected blazing light into that ugly face, as if injecting it intravenously.

I have time anyway. 47 unleashed death and destruction upon these overconfident puppets, firmly believing he was right to be here—even when circumstances suddenly changed and all the pipes seemed to come alive like snakes, wrapping around him.

The underground hall, where the metal giant and 47 were buried, twisted and writhed. As a group of old mages in the control room began casting spells to control everything, even the entire Seven Sins Tower started to vibrate slightly. The steel networks spread beneath the ground, like a dense web, all seeming to be activated, moving like giant metal earthworms and even shaking the foundations of the Seven Sins Tower—all with one goal: to wrap and tighten around the underground hall, forming a giant cocoon.