The Guild Master appeared before Jhonathan without warning.
He didn't step through a door.
He didn't arrive through magic.
He simply was there, standing in the ash-covered remains of the battlefield where the God of Wrath had fallen.
His right eye was gone—completely gouged out. The surrounding skin was sealed in unhealable burns, as if reality itself had rejected restoration.
He looked at Jhonathan quietly.
Like someone carrying too many histories at once.
---
Jhonathan didn't speak at first.
He was staring at the ashes.
Where Sylviana had been.
Where something irreversible had already happened.
"This is the final day of the soulless Sylviana," the Guild Master said softly.
That sentence hit harder than any blade.
Jhonathan's body trembled.
He knelt down.
Ash scattered around his hands as he clenched them tightly into the ground.
"I tried…" he whispered.
Then louder—
"I tried everything."
His voice cracked.
Then broke completely.
"I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME, NOT HER!"
The ground beneath him shattered from the force of his emotion alone. Cracks spread outward like a dying star fracturing.
"I'M HERE AND SHE'S NOT—IT'S NOT FAIR!"
His breathing turned uneven. His rage and grief tangled together until neither could be separated.
Above him, storm clouds gathered.
White silver hair flowed behind him as the wind intensified, reacting to his unstable divinity.
---
The Guild Master stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then placed a hand on Jhonathan's head.
A grounding touch.
A familiar gesture.
"I am here," he said.
"…your highness, Jhonathan Siegfred Matt III."
Silence.
The name echoed through the battlefield like a forgotten title being remembered too late.
---
Everyone nearby froze.
Ralph turned sharply.
Jessabelle's expression shifted for the first time in a while.
Even Mark Angelo, weakened and watching from afar, narrowed his eyes.
That name wasn't just identity.
It was authority.
A command-class lineage tied to one of the highest ruling structures in Levicia.
One of the Ten Commanding Kings.
---
Carl Jhon stepped forward.
From the edge of the battlefield, fire surged behind him—not wild flames, but controlled imperial ignition. Entire sections of corrupted roots burned away instantly.
He tilted his head slightly.
An Otherworlder.
Or perhaps something more.
"Interesting," he said calmly.
Then he pointed toward Jhonathan.
"I challenge you."
The air shifted immediately.
His presence expanded.
Structured.
Absolute.
Like law itself had taken human form.
---
The Guild Master exhaled.
"Carl Jhon… King of the Sothi Empire…"
He didn't sound surprised.
Only concerned.
Because this wasn't a random interruption.
This was a declaration.
---
Carl Jhon raised his hand.
A single word activated his authority.
"Justice."
Ten Commanding Skills awakened around him—not as abilities, but as laws imposed onto reality.
The battlefield restructured itself instantly.
Fire stabilized.
Storm pressure normalized.
Even grief felt… regulated.
Controlled.
---
Jhonathan slowly stood.
His fists clenched.
Ash fell from his clothes.
His eyes were still filled with pain—but now something else flickered behind it.
Recognition.
Purpose.
And something unstable.
"…Justice?" he repeated quietly.
Carl Jhon nodded.
"Let's see if your grief can survive it."