You burned the laughter out of the world and called it harmony. You crushed their dreams and called it peace. But peace built on ash and bone… isn't peace at all. It's tyranny."
The Emperor coughed, his laugh turning hoarse—more like a dying wheeze than mirth.
"And yet… I stopped the bloodshed. No one dares to fight. Isn't that enough?"
Alister's gaze turned steely.
"You didn't stop the bloodshed. You became the only one allowed to spill it."
A long silence settled between them.
Then, with a whisper of finality, Alister said,
"The world will remember you not as a savior, but as a tyrant who forgot the faces of the people he swore to protect."
Alister's voice softened, almost sorrowful.
"Perhaps it's true the world wronged you.
Perhaps your anger was justified."
He paused, letting the silence speak for all the pain behind the words.
"But you let your rage spill over. Not only did it consume you and your enemies…"
