The great golden doors of the Imperial Spire slid shut behind them, sealing them in. The roar of the crowd, the thousands of chanting voices, were all cut off in an instant, replaced by a silence so absolute it was a new kind of pressure.
They were in. The Prince's Quarters—no, the Imperial Suite. A place that made Mali's room on the Sovereign look like a porter's closet. The walls were living crystal, looking out onto the impossible, spinning rings of the Thronecycle. The air smelled of strange, exotic flowers and old, ozone-rich power.
Mali stood in the center of the room, his black regalia drinking in the light. He was frozen.
[SOVEREIGN'S MANTLE] was still active. [EP: 4%... 3%...] The mask was holding. But the boy inside was screaming.
Anya walked past him, her own face pale, her 'Strategist' mask firmly in place. "Well," she said, her voice a little too bright. "That... that went as well as we could have hoped. Duke Aris will be your most loyal, and most terrified, subject by morning."
She turned to face him, a political smile plastered on her face. "Mali, you were..."
And in that moment, his EP hit zero.
[EP: 0% - DANGER: SOUL FATIGUE]
[SKILL DEACTIVATED: SOVEREIGN'S MANTLE (FORCED COOL-DOWN)]
The mask didn't just fade. It shattered.
The artificial calm, the 'Dominion' skill, the "Heir" persona—it all vanished, and what rushed in to fill the vacuum was a tidal wave of pure, unfiltered reality. The terror of the crowd. The crushing weight of the 'Heir's Welcome' debuff. The soul-freezing horror of what he had done to Duke Aris. And loudest of all, his Imposter Syndrome, now returned with a vengeance, screaming 'FRAUD! FRAUD! YOU'RE A MONSTER AND A FRAUD!'
Mali staggered, a choked, strangled gasp tearing from his throat. His legs, which had just carried him with perfect, regal grace, gave out. He collapsed, slamming his knees hard against the marble floor, his body shaking so violently his teeth rattled.
"Anya..." he gasped, but it wasn't a name. It was a plea.
She rushed toward him, her 'Strategist' mask gone, replaced by genuine alarm. "Mali! What's wrong? What is it?"
She reached for him. And then, just for a fraction of a second, she hesitated.
Her hand froze in the air, a foot from his shoulder.
It was the smallest, most imperceptible flinch, but to Mali, it was a universe-ending explosion. He saw it. He saw the look in her eyes. It was the same look the Duke had. It wasn't just concern.
It was fear.
She was afraid of him.
The Imposter Syndrome didn't whisper its victory. It roared. Of course she was afraid. His one anchor. His one pillar. And he had terrified her. He had shown her the monster.
"You... you felt it, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice cracking, his head still bowed. He couldn't look at her. "Back in the hall. You... you were afraid of me."
Anya's hand slowly, deliberately, completed its journey. She didn't touch his shoulder. She placed her hand on the back of his head, her fingers threading into his hair, a surprisingly gentle, grounding touch.
"I..." she said, her voice not quite steady. "I... I felt what the Duke felt, Mali. Or rather... I felt what he lost. I'm a 'Tapestry' weaver. I see the threads of connection. When he... probed you... his Karmic thread, his will... it wasn't just blocked. It... it shredded. It unraveled. My System has never seen anything like it."
She was analytical, even now, but her hand was trembling, just slightly, against his skull.
"Mali," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "What... what is that skill?"
He sagged under her touch, the last of his strength gone. "It's the 'Mantle.' I... I just read the new description. It's not... it wasn't fake, Anya. It wasn't a mask. It's a 'Dominion' skill. It said it dissolves 'will.' It unmakes 'hostile intent.'"
He finally looked up at her, his eyes wide with a terror that was deeper than any 'scary cat' fear. "It said my CTL is too low. It said it could cause 'permanent soul-damage.' I... I don't know how to control it, Anya. I just wanted to... to not look stupid. I didn't want to... to unmake someone."
This hit them both. He was a child, given a divine weapon of judgment, and he was using it as a bluff.
Anya's fear receded, replaced by the familiar, cold-fire of her 'Strategist' calm. This wasn't a monster. This was a problem. A variable.
"Okay," she said, her voice becoming firm. She knelt on the floor with him, her royal regalia pooling around her, a breach of all protocol. "Okay. So... you're even more of a nuclear bomb than we thought. One that goes off, not when you're angry, but when you're scared."
She stared at the wall, her mind racing. "This... this changes the calculation. The court isn't just in 'awe,' Mali. They're terrified. Duke Aris just became your most devout, and most frightened, follower. He didn't just see a lion. He saw a god. And gods are terrifying."
"But I'm not a god!" Mali pleaded, his voice breaking. "I don't want this. I don't want to dissolve people!"
"I know," she said, her voice softening. She looked at him, at the 'scary cat' who was sitting on the floor of his new palace, terrified of his own shadow, terrified of the god-like power he'd just used to protect himself.
And in that moment, she understood.
"Your Imposter Syndrome," she said, the words dawning on her, a new, radical, brilliant theory. "Mali... what if it's not just a debuff?"
He looked at her, confused.
"What if it's been your safety?" she pressed, her eyes lighting up. "What if it's the only thing that's kept a POW of ten million, combined with an 'unmaking' skill, from actually destroying the universe? Your 'scary cat'... he's not your weakness. He's your conscience. He's the only thing that's been keeping the 'dragon' in its cage."
Mali stared at her, his mind struggling to process the idea. His weakness... was his shield?
Before he could answer, a soft, melodic chime echoed through the vast apartment.
"Your Imperial Highnesses," a calm, feminine, AI voice said, emanating from the air itself. "Welcome to the Imperial Spire. The Imperial calendar is now active and synchronized with your personal Systems. Your fitting for the wedding regalia is scheduled for 0900 tomorrow. The Imperial Blessing ceremony is at 1200. The formal wedding ceremony is in three days."
The new reality slammed into them, cutting through the cosmic dread.
Mali and Anya just stared at each other. The 'dragon.' The 'dominion' skill. The terrified nobles. All of it evaporated, replaced by a new, more immediate, and infinitely more awkward panic.
"...The wedding," Mali said, his voice flat.
Anya, for the first time since he had met her, the Princess, the Strategist, the woman who had faced down an armed council and a terrified court... blushed. A faint, but unmistakable, pink tinge rose on her cheeks.
"Yes," she said, her voice suddenly a little breathless. "It seems... we're getting married. Formally."
"In three days," he repeated.
"In three days," she confirmed.
They were still on the floor, two royals in their impossibly expensive uniforms, looking like children.
He looked at their joined hands. "I... I don't even know... what's your favorite color?"
Anya was so startled by the question she let out a real, genuine, surprised laugh. "It's not blue," she said, glancing down at her own indigo uniform. "I can tell you that. I'm... I'm sick of blue."
He smiled. A real, small, Mali smile. It was the first one she'd ever seen.
"Okay," he said, his voice quiet.
"Okay," she replied.
The 'scary cat' and the 'strategist' were alone, in a golden cage, about to get married. And for a second, the universe of expectations, the fleets, and the terrifying, soul-dissolving power outside... didn't seem to matter.
[BUFF: SOVEREIGN'S MANTLE (COOLING DOWN - 24:00:00)]
[BUFF: ANYA'S FAVOR (ACTIVE)]
[NEW QUEST RECEIVED: THE ALKAHEST WEDDING (3 DAYS)]