Compared to the nobles living in the comfortable life of the imperial capital, these border knights are murderous and frightening.

As these elite knights resonated and connected, the servants in white were surrounded and killed on the spot under the red sword blades.

"Ah..." Several long swords were pulled out from the body of the servant in front of him, bringing out streams of blood, and then he was kicked in the body, causing him to fall in a pool of blood on the ground.

"You are the elite of the empire, why do you have to listen to this man's orders." When the servant in front of him fell, Ansel protected Frosia behind him and drew the gorgeous long sword at his waist.

'The golden leaves become the hilt, the silver moonlight becomes the blade. When this sword is drawn, it is like the arrival of a king.'

These are the words recorded in poetry, and they also tell the story of the longsword in Ansiel's hand, once worn by the founding king, Arlin. It's said to have been forged by the goblins at the request of the Elven Queen, using extremely rare materials and blessed by the goblins themselves.

When the sword was drawn out, a gentle breeze carrying a faint halo echoed in the hall. When people's emotions calmed down, they seemed to no longer want to fight.

When Aimank saw the sword, his eyes fixed, and he suppressed the sense of peace that was gradually rising in his heart. He walked forward quickly, and finally his figure seemed to be running.

clang--

The crisp sound of collision rang out in the hall, and then they rubbed against each other tremblingly.

Aimank and Ansiel held their swords against each other, their eyes fixed on each other with the same intense intensity. If you looked closely, you'd notice a resemblance between the two men. After all, they had the same grandfather, and they often referred to each other as brothers.

"Why?" Ansel looked at Aimank. The other party was not an irrational person.

"For everything."

Aimank was not prepared to speak his mind, as that would only give the enemy a loophole. Once he entered the hall, there was no way back. He had to kill Ansel and absolutely could not let him leave the hall. Otherwise, not only would he die, but everyone around him would die too.

For today, he has bet everything, like the craziest gambler.

White and red figures intertwined in the hall, sparks flashed, and terrifying sounds came from it, making countless onlookers sweat and tremble.

As time passed, no reinforcements came from outside the door. This unusual situation had already caused the nobles in the room to have many ominous speculations.

It was another fierce confrontation, with air currents all over the place. The two men separated temporarily and stood facing each other.

"I swear to kill the noble prince in front of me, my brother, Ansel!" Aimank wiped his palm on the sword blade, and a thin stream of blood slowly flowed down.

As he recited his words, the sword began to glow, and exquisite yet cruel patterns appeared on it.

"Hooduder, the Sword of Vengeance." A few nobles uttered the cursed name.

Ansel looked at the longsword before him, a sense of extreme danger rising in his heart like a knife. Then he saw Aimank rushing towards him again, brandishing the longsword.

Chila——

The two clashed again in the hall, but this time it was unusually quiet afterward.

Clang... The long sword with golden leaves and silver body fell to the ground, bounced slightly, made a long tremolo, and then fell again, and the lingering sound slowly echoed.

The blood flowed quietly, gradually dyeing the prince in white red. The sunlight fell on his face, still so handsome and beautiful, but he could never open his eyes again.

A rapid chime rang out in Titania, and the streets were in chaos as two elite armies in armor fought each other within the city. One side consisted of the imperial guards, previously stationed within the palace, and the elite frontier troops who had quietly entered the city at some point. The other side consisted of the crown prince's supporters and the troops once loyal to the emperor within the imperial capital.

Both sides were the elite of the elite, fully armed, yet no one could have anticipated the clash on a day that was supposed to be a day of celebration. Soldiers on both sides received firm orders from their superiors: the other side was a traitor and a traitor, and there was no room for retreat or concession.

The leaders of both sides also understood that in such a power struggle, if they failed, they would be killed and their entire families would be buried with them, so they did not hold back and tried their best to kill the other side in the city.

In this way, on the streets full of flowers, people trampled on each other and fought until the blood dyed the earth more delicate and beautiful.