"Your Highness, you can't!"
The general under Alter's command stepped forward, his voice breaking through the stunned silence, begging the Cursed Princess to reconsider her decision to turn herself in.
Everyone understood what the angel's decree truly meant.
It spoke of judgment, of a trial before the Heavenly Court. It was phrased carefully, wrapped in hollow mercy, as though the Cursed Princess might yet return if she proved herself not to be a threat to the Divine above.
But… that was a lie.
It didn't take much intelligence to know that there would be no trial.
Only death awaited Alter in Aphaeleon.
Because that had always been the way of the Celestial Kingdoms—cloaking their cruelty in righteousness, parading justice while practicing tyranny. They spoke of balance and order, yet erased anything that did not fit neatly into their grand design.
Meanwhile, Ventaria no longer seemed to need them.
