The message reached the kings. Dawn barely kissed the horizon, yet the Vault thrummed with anticipation. One by one, the kings gathered, their footsteps echoing against stone walls older than most kingdoms. Tavari also received an invite, his presence demanded.

  The moment the Watcher stepped inside, all noise ceased. Not a single voice dared defy the silence. Mouths fell shut instinctively.

  “Welcome, Watcher,” the assembled kings chorused, bowing low.

  Nuru’s calm voice sliced through the reverent murmur:

  “Raise.”

  They obeyed. The kings seated themselves, faces tense, eyes wide.

  “Bring the men,” the Watcher commanded.

  The Leo guards entered, escorting twenty men, the traitors bound and grim.

  Nuru’s eyes swept over the Vault, calculating, precise. “These men,” he began, voice cold as winter steel, “the trainers and commanders who betrayed trust. We know their intentions. Speak — do you have words to defend yourselves?”

  One man, braver or fouler than the rest, spat onto the stone floor. “I fear nothing. You are evil, hiding behind your throne, your lies, your mask.”

  Nuru’s lips curved into a smile of calm terror. “I will grant you the honor of seeing my face. Speak again if you dare.”

  They all spat, voices unified:

  “Non servimus malo!” (We do not serve evil.)

  Nuru’s eyes blazed, voice rising like thunder:

  “Non ego malus sum. Vos estis mali!”

  (I am not evil. You are the evil ones.)

  The kings froze, understanding the weight behind his words. The Vault seemed to breathe with anticipation.

  “Punishment?” Nuru asked, turning toward the gathered royalty.

  The kings hesitated. One offered, “Imprisonment… for the rest of their lives.”

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  Nuru’s voice rang like steel on stone. “We do not keep traitors who believe themselves righteous while practicing evil. Their heads will fall. And one of you will witness my face.”

  The kings murmured in disbelief, but the Watcher’s authority was absolute. Guards stepped forward. Nineteen men were seized, carried to the center.

  Nuru raised his hand. “Let this be a warning — to all, and to the world. I, the Watcher, entertain no traitors. I fall for none.”

  The execution was swift, precise. Steel kissed necks, and heads fell to the cold stone with sickening finality. Tavari sat rigid, eyes wide, face pale with relief and fear. Arie’s hands clenched, knuckles white, yet he dared not interfere.

  The one remaining man trembled, his defiance faltering. He tried to close his eyes, but an unseen force held them open. Nuru removed his mask. The chamber grew colder, heavier.

  The man’s screams were brief. His brain melted in an impossible, invisible force, blood oozing from eyes, ears, and mouth. The Watcher replaced his mask and spoke:

  “Open your eyes.”

  He obeyed — and saw that the world had shifted.

  Nuru turned to the kings, voice calm but resolute: “New law: if a royal family has a female heir next in line, she shall have the right to be queen. Soldiers who are women shall also be allowed to serve.”

  The kings murmured in stunned assent. The Vault doors closed behind him.

  Outside, Arie followed silently. Tavari sat, trembling yet relieved, staring after the Watcher with equal parts reverence and fear.

  The morning had begun with justice, with blood, with change. And the world would never forget the day the Watcher spoke.