THIRD PERSON'S POV:
The air of the capital was no longer filled with the mundane sounds of trade and chatter. Instead, it was thick with the visceral music of a s*******r—the desperate pleas of men who realized too late that their golden armor was nothing more than a gilded shroud, and the wet, rhythmic sounds of blades meeting yielding flesh.
"Devils! They are devils from the abyss!"
The cries echoed through the winding alleys, carrying a wave of pure terror that paralyzed the citizenry. The "trash" prince, the boy they had mocked as a powerless exile, was currently dismantling the pride of the Vermilion Empire in broad daylight. He showed no hesitation, no fear of the heavens, and certainly no respect for the imperial decree that was meant to bring him to his knees.
In a secluded ma
