In a chamber designed with extreme opulence, exquisite paintings hung on the walls, and golden lanterns were spread out, illuminating the room with a warm, majestic glow.
Within the room, a figure stood facing the window, gazing out at the world before him. He was draped in white and black robes interwoven with golden accents. His cape billowed gently behind him as he stood with a small, thoughtful smile on his face.
Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor.
His mind was on Asher. He couldn't quite understand what the boy had done, how he had so effortlessly dismantled Ryan Silvershade without breaking a sweat.
'I shouldn't have imposed that rule that limited the spar to physical combat only,' Zolthemir thought with a hint of regret.
He had established that rule to protect Asher, whom he had believed to be weaker than Ryan. After all, if Ryan had been allowed to use his bone manipulation abilities, who knew what kind of damage he could have caused to the Tenth Sun?
