The moment Rudolf's head rolled to the ground, Mahkato lost all of her nonce about this matter.

  For the first time since she asded as one of the Overlords, she found herself genuinely affected by something. Her gaze snapped back to Burn, her eyes shimmering with a delightful cocktail of simmering anger and offended dignity.

  Just how formidable was this man? What audacity fueled his decision to snuff out the life of the Alliance’s Fleet Admiral right before her disbelieving eyes? All while he strutted about as if he possessed the divine right to enact such barbarity—for two world-ending ons, no less.

  Burn locked eyes with Mahkato, unwavering.

  Yes, she could have dismissed Rudolf’s demise as the unfortue of a foolish man who allowed two cataclysmic devices to slip into the hands of a barbarian after botg a quiet execution, all while pnning to obliterate the very world that housed the thing they coveted.

  But witnessing him dead at the hands of the very instigator behind this disorder painted her anger in shades of irony; it was both deserved and fair, yet it felt like a sp in the fa indignity ed in cruel justibsp;

  Burn grinned, his expression nont. “I could’ve sent him back to you, for you to punish him yourself, ahe first white dwarf I picked up while returning the other one he foolishly brought here, but why not settle it here?”

  “Yes, I am sure you would’ve humiliated him, stripping him of his title and duties. You would, perhaps, do it with your own hands,” the tyrant said. “But why would I want to borrow your hands to deliver my own punishments?”

  Because of her pride, Mahkato would have preferred to punish her own subordinates, and now, with someone else’s bde buried in her subordinate, he was rubbing it in her face too.

  Rudolf, poor wretched Rudolf, would find his life meticulously dismantled after this disgrao status within the revered Seven Heavens could shield him from the fallout of being captured by a barbarian, especially over two celestial ons.

  His humiliation would be etched into the annals of history.

  Losing his title and duties would scarcely begin to pare to the wound inflicted upon the Alliance's honor, nor could it wash away the stain of his blunder against the Allianbsp;

  The weight of shame might as well drive him to sider killing himself to avoid further tarnishing his family’s name and the Seven Heavens' prestige—unless his shamelessness was as boundless as the ic void he trespassed.

  Burn, in his infinite wisdom—or perhaps wiess—uood that letting Rudolf live would subject him to a fate far worse thah. Torment would seep into his bones even if he walked free. But he chose to kill him still.

  All to humiliate Mahkato instead.

  Now, of course, Rudolf’s life couldn’t pare with the sheer value of those two world-ending ons that had been seized. One fool's soul could go missing anytime; returning the two white dwarfs after killing one measly man sounded like charity, even.

  But that just highlighted Burn's uny fearlessness—or perhaps his absolute disi—in the white dwarfs. He just held onto them because he could.

  Two ons in whie of their single sneezes could obliterate mountains.

  Burn found satisfa not in the ons' might but in the delightful chaos their mere existence could unleash osiders. The thought of them spiraling into panic at the mere mention of these beauties? Priceless.

  He held onto them not out of y, but to revel in the sheer power of having their minds afme with terror. Quite the showcase of ic trolling, wouldn’t you say?

  “Send your men to pick them up,” Burn flicked his sword, ing it of traces of blood after decapitating a certain fool. He turned his ba the headless body and the s, back to sit on his throne.

  Mahkato’s face resembled someone who’d just tried a lemon for the first time—bitter, twisted, and utterly displeased. She waved her hand, relinquishing and for his men to scurry off arieve the two ons, not uttering a single word.

  “My wife is unwell,” Burn decred, as if announg a holiday instead of a mueeded pause in an apocalyptic march, leaning bato his throne like a monarch of old. “Now that we’ve settled this little mess, I io put a hold on all worldly endeavors and focus on her recovery until she’s back to health.”

  It was a warning.

  It was a bit unique for someone like him, a subtle warning ed in the guise of tenderness, like a wolf cuddling a mb before dinner.

  Burn had annouo the world that he would pause his march to quer the world due to his wife’s illness. But that also included his dealings with the outsiders.

  The reason they had been trying to kill him all this time was because his meddling movements across the world caused them to be uo iigate what had actually caused the burst of energy that was s it ruptured the dimensional walls.

  Now, with him seemingly at rest, their ambitions could unfurl freely at st.

  But it didn’t mean that Mahkato would fet about this, and it didn’t mean that Burn would stop meddling. It was unknown and uable what was on his mind. Whatever had pelled him to pause his relentless advance hi far graver affairs lurking in his mind.

  Still, Burn’s warnihe outsiders at bay for now, and it vely suited them too, allowing a small, mueeded breather from his overwhelming pent for chaos.

  “Caliburn Pendragon,” Mahkato hissed, teeth gritted. “I will remember your name.”

  The s turned off. And Burn waved his sword away. He rose, and to everyone’s surprise, the headless man on the floor reverted to a tied-up fellow—mouth frothing, pants stained, sprawled out like a discarded puppet, eyes rolled back but unmistakably alive.

  Man and Bel emerged from behind one of the t pilrs in the hall. Bel, brimming with enthusiasm in her nun’s garb, turo Burn and Man, her joy palpable.

  "Your Holiness, Your Majesty, I absolutely syed with my spell, didn't I? Right?!” she chirped, a grin pstered across her fabsp;

  Burn and Man exged gheir thumbs raised in a gesture of approval.

  “Bring him to the dungeon,” Burn said to his men. “We will begin his interrogation soon.”

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