The warlord

Harold fully understood the situation. When he saw Baron approaching his room, he immediately entered through the half-open window, lit a candle, and sat on his bed.

Knock, knock, knock!

It didn't take long before Baron banged on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Baron, Sir Knight. May I have a moment of your time?"

[Did they let him come? Maybe because they know he can't say anything to me, they allowed him in.]

Harold opened the wooden door. Baron stood in the hallway with a forced smile, flanked by two guards rigidly holding their long swords.

Suddenly, Baron fell to his knees. "Your Excellency! Please forgive this humble servant!"

Glancing briefly at the knights, Harold quickly grabbed Baron's hand and helped him up.

"Please stand. This behavior doesn't suit you…"

"But, sir…"

"Come inside…"

Baron sat on the bed while the renowned knight sat across from him on a chair.

"Your Excellency…"

"Shh!"

Baron froze. Harold snapped his fingers, activating a mana barrier. His eyes glowed with a golden light. His overwhelming aura blazed like a roaring fire, casting his shadow against the walls.

"Y…Your E…Excellency…"

Baron was terrified.

In a calm yet commanding tone, Harold said, "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

Boom!

The wooden chair couldn't withstand Harold's aura and shattered.

"The abduction of the sorcerer's apprentice, the disappearance of people, a military coup, werewolves, poverty, corruption, debauchery… I should execute you right now!"

He extended his hand; the sacred sword responded to his aura and floated in midair.

Baron panicked, sweat pouring down his face.

"Y…Your Excellency!!!!"

"Silence!!!!"

"Speak everything you know immediately. I want a full confession, without bias."

Baron, with trembling eyes, stared at Harold Golden Shrine. The knight, who had seemed friendly until morning, now resembled the angel of death.

Harold raised his hand, summoning the Scales of Justice. This spell was the pride of every holy knight. The sacred sword floated vertically in the air, emitting a golden aura. The light, resembling shapeless golden particles, began to churn, forming the two pans of the scale.

"Now, you are in the presence of the Goddess of Judgment. Any falsehood will tip the scale of your sins. Once your guilt surpasses the limit, the sword's divine will shall mete out the harshest punishment. This is the will of the gods!"

Baron, with tear-filled eyes and trembling hands, prostrated himself before the embodiment of justice. His breaths quickened as he glanced at the wooden door, behind which his two guards stood clueless and indifferent.

[Damn it! In the presence of the gods, I have no choice but to confess everything!!! But if I do…]

He bit his lip as the color drained from his face. The veins on his neck and temples swelled. Baron couldn't reveal the full truth, and Harold knew this from the start.

"Confess your sins, wrongdoer."

"I…I…confess…" The pressure of Harold's aura was overwhelming. Even if he wanted to confess, he struggled to find the words.

"You colluded with the rebels, didn't you?"

Baron tried to lift his head, but the pressure of the aura increased severalfold.

"Answer!!!"

"Yes…"

The right pan of the scale grew heavier.

"You weren't conspiring to rebel against the Holy Temple, were you?"

"No…"

Once again, the right pan grew heavier.

Harold leaned closer to Baron and whispered, "You hid those heretics within your territory, didn't you?"

"Your Excellency… which…"

"The Prince of Darkness…!!" Harold didn't let him finish.

Baron's eyes widened, and the whites of his eyes turned dark. His body couldn't withstand this level of pressure. He immediately vomited blood and collapsed to the floor.

Harold glanced at the scale. The time for final judgment had arrived.

In a single moment, the balance of the scales tipped, creating a new order. The final verdict appeared on the blade of the sacred sword.

Harold knelt and took the sword in his hand. Inscribed on the blade in ancient script were the words: "Guilty. The heretics must be executed."

The sword rose high and, in a swift motion, severed Baron's head. Yet, even as Baron's blood stained the floor, the inscription on the sword remained unaltered.

Harold murmured, "Heretics… So the Goddess's judgment is this: they all must die."