A voice sliced through the tension like a dagger.
"Do we even need to ask?" Azula sneered, her tone soaked with venom. "He's being purged by the world itself. That alone is enough reason for us to kill him."
Her voice grew sharper, her killing intent spreading like frost.
"The world wants him gone. So what does it matter if it's lightning or our blades that finish him off? If we help complete the world's judgment, who knows… maybe we'll be blessed for it."
She smiled. It was cold. Cruel.
The idea hung in the air like a lure.
And one by one, the other leaders began to glance at each other.
They held no grudges against Max.
Many had admired his talent, respected his meteoric rise. He was, undeniably, the most gifted genius the continent had seen in decades.
But temptation was a dangerous thing.
What if Azula was right?
What if helping end Max's life—finishing what even the Wrath of the World had begun—earned them favor from the very laws of creation?
