Crown Prince Finn had never imagined he would have such a wretched day.
On the road from the square to the Xuanwu Gate, he was practically swept away by the fleeing crowd.
His guards formed a tight circle around him, swords drawn, warily watching for any enemy that might leap out.
The Emperor's imperial carriage was not far off, but Finn had absolutely no interest in the old man's safety right now; his mind was entirely consumed by the scene that had just unfolded in the sky.
The figure claiming to be the Messenger of the Goddess of Night had suddenly appeared and dragged out the Lord Messenger, who then seemingly lost the subsequent confrontation entirely.
“Damn it, how did it come to this...?”
Finn leaned against the wall of the Xuanwu Gate, panting heavily, cold sweat drenching his forehead.
His hands trembled slightly—not out of fear, but because a desperate madness, born of being driven into a corner, was burning in his heart.
The Lord Messenger had lost, and his connection to him had already been exposed earlier.
Once the Imperial Capital regained its stability, nothing awaited him but deposition, imprisonment, or even execution.
It seemed he had no way out.
“No, this is impossible! I saw it in that prophetic dream—I am destined to sit on that throne!”
Finn snapped his head up, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes.
He raised his right hand, palm up. A sphere of golden mana condensed in his hand, then transformed into a dazzling pillar of light that shot straight into the sky.
The pillar of light exploded in the night sky, forming a massive sword-and-axe insignia. Even those in the mountain forests outside the Imperial Capital could clearly see the signal.
“Finn! What on earth do you think you're doing!”
The Emperor's voice came from the direction of the imperial carriage, laced with uncontrollable rage and shock.
He struggled to lean out of the carriage, his aged face filled with disbelief:
“Do you want to plunge the entire Empire into war?!”
Finn turned around, looked at his white-haired father, and suddenly laughed.
There was a crazed sense of liberation in his smile:
“Of course I know what I'm doing, Father! Did you think I didn't know? You've been putting up with me and yielding to me because you were afraid I'd flip the table and drag the entire Empire into war, haven't you?”
He spread his arms, as if embracing something invisible:
“But I don't care! Because I have already seen the future—I am destined to sit on that throne! This is an unalterable dest—”
Before he could finish his sentence, a sudden, excruciating pain shot from his right hand.
Finn looked down and let out a heart-wrenching scream.
“Aaaagh!!!”
His right hand, which had just released the signal, was completely gone.
The cut was perfectly clean. Blood erupted like a geyser from the stump of his arm, dyeing half his body crimson.
He stumbled back a few steps, desperately clamping his left hand over the stump, but blood still seeped out from between his fingers.
Curling up on the ground in agonizing pain, he let out a series of shrill, wretched wails.
A figure still clad in a prison uniform stepped out from the shadows.
Finn raised his head, and through his pain-blurred vision, he made out her face. His expression immediately became worse than if he had seen a ghost.
“Wen... dy...” he squeezed the name out from between his teeth.
Standing beside Wendy were two other figures: a masked man and a striking woman with dark golden hair, holding a sword.
Fresh blood clung to the woman's blade, dripping onto the ground drop by drop.
Finn understood in an instant—his hand had been severed by this woman.
The Emperor was stunned for a moment upon seeing Wendy appear, a complex expression crossing his aged face.
He opened his mouth, his voice slightly hoarse. “Wendy... you... I'm sorry...”
Wendy looked at her father, her calm eyes holding a touch of warmth. “It's fine, Father. I understand your position.”
Hearing this, the Emperor's eyes grew slightly red. He was about to speak when Finn's crazed voice cut him off.
“Have you come to seek revenge? But do you actually dare to kill me?!”
Clutching his severed arm, Finn knelt on one knee and roared at Wendy, his face covered in blood:
“If you kill me, then absolutely no one will be able to stop the Empire from falling into chaos! My army has already begun to move because of the command I just sent out—”
“Haven't you noticed yet?”
Wendy calmly cut him off:
“From the moment you sent the signal until now, have you heard even the slightest sound from outside the Imperial Capital?”
Finn's voice stopped dead.
He froze and strained his ears to listen.
The night sky was dead silent. There were no battle cries, no thundering hooves, and certainly no rumbles of siege engines.
According to the original plan, the outskirts of the Imperial Capital should have been engulfed in flames by now, and his army should have already begun their assault on the walls.
Yet at this moment, it was so quiet outside that it seemed as if nothing had happened at all.
“What... what did you do?”
For the first time, a tremor crept into Finn's voice.
“Nothing much.”
Wendy's tone remained flat. “I simply gave all of your troops food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning?!”
Finn's eyes widened, his voice turning shrill with disbelief:
“What do you mean, food poisoning?! That was my final and greatest trump card! How could you possibly—”
Wendy did not answer his question.
She began to walk toward him step by step, her pace unhurried yet carrying an unstoppable pressure:
“I gave you chances, Brother. Both when we were children and when I chose to leave of my own accord half a year ago. Yet time and time again, you chose the worst possible path.”
This inexplicable pressure forced Finn to retreat step by step while clutching his severed arm. His back hit the city wall, and he slid down against it, finally slumping onto the ground.
“What... what do you want to do?”
He watched Wendy draw closer step by step. The face he had once detested so deeply now filled him with sheer terror.
“You have made me realize that passive hope is meaningless. That is why this time, I am going to actively purge the wrong choice.”
Wendy stopped right in front of him.
“Farewell.”
She raised her right hand, aiming her palm at Finn. A powerful surge of wind mana condensed in her hand.
The mana swirled and compressed, forming a miniature vortex that let out a low hum.
“No, you can't do this! I'm your biological brother!”
Finn's face was painted with despair.
Wendy closed her eyes and gave a gentle push. The vortex enveloped Finn's body, sweeping him high into the sky like a shooting star as he hurtled through the night toward the palace.
“Boom.”
A massive crash echoed from the direction of the palace.
Finn's body smashed through the roof of the palace's grand hall and fell heavily, landing right on the imperial throne he had always dreamed of.
His body was wedged into the throne, blood streaming down the armrests and staining the golden seat crimson.
“So... that's how it is...”
At the final moment of his life, understanding finally dawned on him.
The future he had foreseen of sitting on the throne was meant to be realized in this exact manner.
In utter despair, his breath faded away completely.
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