The ritual chamber held its breath. Twenty armed nobles, three divine inquisitors, five corrupted wives, two transformed emperors, and one monster barely leashed—all frozen in a tableau of impending violence.
Arthur Lionheart stood at the center of it all, naked and magnificent in his corruption. Shadow veins pulsed beneath his skin in patterns that hurt to follow, and his eyes held depths that promised consumption without end. The hunger inside him had reached a crescendo, demanding to be fed.
*So many Systems. So much power. Take it all.*
The lead inquisitor raised her blessed sword, divine light gathering around the blade. "By the authority of Hierophant Celestine, you will submit to purification or—"
"No."
