King Julius stared at the Scales of Veridion as if they had personally betrayed him.
His lips trembled.. not from fear, but from something far more humiliating. Disbelief. Pure, naked disbelief.
The plate on his side was no longer a plate. It was a small mountain.
Treasures lay piled upon treasures: artifacts that had shaped wars, crowns that had ruled eras, relics that entire nations would have burned for. There was no more space left. Gold pressed against sapphire, divine metals tangled with ancient runes, the royal crown resting beside the treasury key, the Trident of the Sea itself lying there like a final declaration of excess.
And yet..
Nothing.
Not a shiver.
Not a tremor.
Not even the faintest downward twitch.
On the opposite side, Razeal's plate held only that single ring.. a crimson band, modest in size, a quiet blue star embedded at its center. It rested there without radiance, without aura of any proclamation.
And still… it crushed everything.
