Vortex of Power

As the motorcade slowly turned a corner in the bustling city center, the assassination attempt Luo Wei had long anticipated unfolded once more.

A sudden burst of light illuminated the sky as Priest Lance's [Judgment] lit up the air, with blinding spears of radiance plummeting from above.

"Brother! Eleya's consciousness has vanished!" Helena's urgent voice rang out from the ring.

"Your Majesty, be careful!" Pope Adrian stepped forward without hesitation.

Amid the chaotic clamor of the crowd, Luo Wei and Ophelia silently observed the scene ahead.

The assassination played out exactly as it had the previous two times—Chief Royal Mage Hawkins took firm control of the situation, Priest Lance committed suicide, and the bloodied Pope Adrian was carried away by his subordinates.

The wounded pope would be sent back to St. Carol Cathedral for treatment, and along the way, Eleya would personally make her move. This was Luo Wei's only chance to capture her.

"Let's follow them," Luo Wei said before immediately leaping off the carriage.

Ophelia scanned the crowd for her shadow guards, then turned her gaze toward Sir Fred of the Special Affairs Department.

In a battle of this magnitude, she couldn't offer Luo Wei much direct assistance, but fortunately, she wielded authority.

"Your Highness, are you certain about this?" Sir Fred, dressed in civilian attire, followed closely behind, adjusting the brim of his hat. He glanced at the emperor seated in the open-top carriage. "The journey back is still long. If I leave now and something happens to His Majesty, what then?"

"Old Fred, don't worry," Ophelia replied, casting him a sidelong glance. "With Hawkins around, who could possibly harm him? Besides, the Church's target was never my father to begin with."

"Hawkins is indeed formidable, but..." Sir Fred hesitated. Though he was undeniably aligned with the Fifth Princess's faction, his official allegiance was still to the emperor. If Charlton II suffered even a minor injury, he would be held accountable for "dereliction of duty."

"Eleya is the Church's saintess and the de facto ruler of the hostile nation Norsgul. Capturing her would be an unparalleled achievement, and you'd be credited as the foremost contributor," Ophelia said with a knowing smile.

Watching the shift in Fred's expression, she continued, "And who's to say Eleya's infiltration into the capital isn't part of some greater scheme?"

"Your Highness, you mean..."

"What I mean is, Eleya is a transcendent powerhouse far beyond our level. She might very well be here to assassinate my father. By discreetly following me now, you're not abandoning your post—you're fulfilling your duty to protect the emperor."

Having said this, Ophelia offered no further explanation. Sir Fred could only let out a resigned chuckle. Once the princess had spoken, there was no room left for argument.

He and the Special Affairs Department had long been tied to the Fifth Princess's cause—ever since she took interim control of the department and persuaded the emperor to promote him, an overlooked official, to a high-ranking position.

True neutrality was impossible for him now. The Second and Third Princes already saw him as a thorn in their side. Whichever of them ultimately ascended the throne, he and his agents would be swept away in a ruthless purge.

As Sir Fred turned the final street corner, he glanced back at the motorcade, now restored to order. He spotted the Second and Third Princes riding back from the front of the procession.

In this whirlpool of power, everyone was hurtling toward their inevitable fate.

"Father, are you all right?" The Third Prince spoke up before his elder brother could, his voice laced with concern.

"That was far too dangerous! Perhaps you should switch to another carriage?" he pressed, having long disapproved of the emperor's choice to ride in the magitek open-top vehicle. He couldn't fathom what the Second Prince, responsible for security, had been thinking.

Yet after his anxious outburst, silence lingered. Charlton II merely cast him a sidelong glance.

The Third Prince froze.

Realization dawned on him, and he instantly regretted his words.

His gaze involuntarily shifted to his elder brother. Though William's face betrayed no emotion, there was no doubt he was inwardly mocking him. Damn it, no wonder he hadn't rushed to speak...

After a long, awkward pause, Charlton finally spoke.

"Remain composed at all times. Don't let your emotions show on your face. Have you forgotten my teachings, Third?"

"Magitek industry is of utmost importance—something both Second and Fifth understand well. Had I known better, I wouldn't have sent you to that stagnant Church."

"My apologies, Father," the Third Prince murmured, lowering his head.

"Learn from your elder brother in this regard. Now, return to your duties." Charlton's gaze shifted to the Second Prince. "William, stay. There are matters I need to discuss with you."

"As you wish, Father."

The cheers of the crowd grew even more fervent, swelling like a tidal wave as Charlton II waved in acknowledgment.

William studied his father—his expression forever steady, forever composed.

"Long live His Majesty!"

"Heaven protect His Majesty! Heaven protect His Majesty!"

Despite the assassination attempt, the aging emperor's image had not diminished in the slightest. If anything, he appeared even more formidable in the eyes of the people, as if his unshaken presence embodied some divine will.

The motorcade pressed onward, wheels turning steadily. The guards, heartened by the crowd's fervor, stood tall, as though under the emperor's indomitable will, all enemies would be crushed like insects beneath his heel.

...

In the Whitechapel district, along the road to the Cathedral of Holy Light, the pope's carriage lay overturned.

Adrian clutched his blood-soaked chest as he crawled out of the wreckage. Lifting his gaze to the sky, he saw a woman bathed in sacred radiance, her eyes coldly surveying the scene below.

"Eleya Christine..." the pope muttered under his breath.

"The legendary saintess of the Church? How could she dare?!" The surviving high-ranking clergy rushed to support the pope, their voices thick with disbelief.

"When one's power reaches a certain level, there is no such thing as daring or not daring..." Adrian coughed painfully, spitting out a mouthful of dark blood. Had it not been for the sudden appearance of the princess's reinforcements, he would have already met the God of Light.

"So it really is her?" Sir Fred's expression mirrored their shock. He immediately barked orders to his subordinates from the Special Affairs Department. "Spread out, secure the high ground, evacuate civilians, and alert the city guard."

Eleya, cloaked in an aura of divine purity, looked down at the tense transcendent warriors below before locking eyes with Luo Wei. "It seems you were lying in wait. That ability of yours again?"

"Of course. And I've already foreseen your defeat," Luo Wei replied coldly. "You've lost."

A faint smirk curled Eleya's lips. "Next time you lie, try not to look so furious. It's rather endearing."

"Oh? You can read expressions too?" Ophelia sneered. "Surrender. This is St. Carol. Every transcendent warrior will join the hunt for you. There's nowhere left to run."

"And what of it?" Eleya's laughter carried a hint of arrogance. "Do you really think they can stop me?"

As she spoke, her pink hair stirred as if caught in an unseen breeze, her pristine wings unfurling as the radiance around her grew blindingly intense.

Though it should have been a scene of divine majesty, every superhuman present felt an icy shiver of death in the air—this was no ordinary judgment. The Saintess's [Judgment] and an assassin's [Judgment] existed on entirely different planes.