"It seems our empire is destined for another age of greatness."
He paused for a moment, his gaze softening. "I had intended to tell you about my plans to send you to the Academy, like every royal heir before you. But now…" he chuckled quietly, "I don't think you even need it."
Then, more seriously, he asked, "But. I must say, I am curious. How did you reach this stage so fast? I have no doubt the resources provided to you were vast, but even that doesn't explain this level of progress."
"I just worked hard," Sora said with a shrug.
If he told them that he had never, once in his whole life, cultivated seriously, they'd probably lose their minds.
He simply ascended realms, becoming stronger everyday by simply living, breathing, eating. The very notion would sound like blasphemy. If he actually tried, even he wasn't sure what would happen.
"Actually," Sora said suddenly, "I still want to go to the Academy."
Aziel's brows lifted. "Really?"
He had fully expected resistance, especially from someone as independent as Sora. The boy rarely cared for formal institutions or expectations.
"But why?" Aziel asked.
Sora rested his chin on his hand, poking his cheek thoughtfully. "I just… want to experience what other normal children my age do for once," he said casually.
Aziel blinked, then smiled faintly, and then he laughed loudly. Warmth stirred in his chest, a rare feeling for the emperor of mankind.
Extraordinary as his son was, it comforted him to know that Sora still yearned for something ordinary.
"Alright then," Aziel said. "You should have someone finalize your enrollment." Aziel cleared his throat before continuing, "About your birthday celebration—"
"No." Before he could continue, Sora interjected sharply. "There shall be no big ball to celebrate my birthday. I'm very busy."
He spoke with finality, leaving no room for argument.
Aziel cleared his throat again, awkwardly this time. "Alright then."
Sora rose from his seat. "Let me give you the object you came for so you can be on your way."
'He's kicking me out?' Aziel thought inwardly, baffled.
Esme and the two guards could hardly believe what they were seeing. Who exactly was supposed to be the Emperor here? they all thought at the same time.
Esme moved toward the door that she and Sora had entered through earlier. She opened it and gestured for them to follow. Sora walked behind her, the Emperor following in silence, his two guards taking up the rear.
The bright corridor stretched endlessly ahead, lit by an ambient glow that seemed to come from nowhere. The group walked without a word until they reached a large metal door. Esme placed her hand against the surface, and it opened with a low hiss. She stepped aside, allowing them entry.
The room beyond was plain, almost unnervingly so. There was nothing inside except a single table at the centre, upon which rested an object encased in glass.
Sora stepped toward it slowly. The object, a long quill with black flames for feathers, looked so surreal that reality itself seemed to twist and bend around it. Opening the glass case, Sora reached in and lifted the quill with care.
He turned, walking back toward his father, and extended it to him.
"It's called The Soulright's Quill," he said evenly.
Everyone in the room hissed under their breath. The very name seemed to awaken something deep within them, an instinctive awareness of power, ancient and absolute.
"As for what it does," Sora continued, "it fulfills you asked for, and more. You asked for something that could overwrite someone's memories. It does that. But it's more accurate to say that anything written with it becomes true. If you were to write on a piece of parchment that Sora is the current Emperor of the Human Empire, reality would shift itself to fulfill those conditions. From that moment forth, to everyone, I will be the emperor."
A collective gasp filled the room. Shock rippled through them all.
"But," Sora added, his tone measured, "each use burns away a random memory of the user. The more substantial the request, the more severe the memory loss. In essence, what I'm saying is that this object carries a heavy price. The cost of altering reality must always be paid. The best I could do was reduce that price. Initially, the toll was life force itself, so if you asked too much, it would demand the lives of several powerful beings."
Aziel nodded slowly, absorbing every word. The cost was to be expected. What was exceptional was that his son had managed to convert the toll from something as grave as life force to mere memory.
"I should test it out," Aziel murmured, turning to one of his guards.
The man produced a piece of parchment seemingly out of nowhere. Aziel took it and began writing. It took him only a moment to finish, though none could see what he had written.
Then it happened. Aziel blinked and felt a strange emptiness tug at his mind, something small and distant had vanished. A memory, gone forever.
He frowned. So it truly does take something each time…
Before anyone could speak, Esme gasped. The guards stiffened, staring at Sora in shock.
Sora blinked, confused. "What?"
His father's eyes gleamed. "It works," Aziel said simply.
Sora frowned. He had a bad feeling. Turning toward the glass panel on the table, his reflection greeted him, only this time, his once jet-black hair had turned to a shining golden blonde.
His expression hardened instantly. "Turn it back," he said coldly.
Aziel smiled faintly, then wrote something else on the parchment. A heartbeat later, Sora's hair returned to its natural black.
"You have your little toy now," Sora said flatly. "You can go."
Aziel chuckled under his breath. "Alright, I'll be back to visit soon." He smiled wryly. "I've said this many times before, but I'll say it again, your talents are truly exceptional, Sora."
"No need to tell me," Sora replied calmly. "I know."
Aziel's smile faded, replaced by quiet admiration, and a touch of unease.
Sora's tone shifted, sharp as a blade. "And if you ever use that thing on me again," he said, voice cold and unshaken, "I will know."