The entire Imperial Court gasped in collective horror. A senator fainted on the spot. A merchant clutched his heart, looking seconds away from keeling over. The High Priestess?
She just stood there frozen, speechless, her hands still outstretched, clutching the woredown by time laurel crown like a confused statue.
I didn't waste any time. With deliberate ease, I reached out and plucked the laurel crown from her trembling fingers. She didn't resist. She couldn't resist. She, like everyone else, was too stunned to act.
I turned, walking straight toward the Imperial Throne, a seat forged from the pieced together swords, maces, spears, halberds axes and every other kind Imaginable weapons of vanquished foes with molten metal Into a throne.
Yeah I won't lie after seeing the Iron throne In G*T no other throne looked good In my eyes so here you have It.
Although of course I did have to change a few things because of CP that was every young and aspiring authors nemesis.
I thought In my mind as I gripped my greatsword, the Reaper, I drove it into the specially crafted groove at the side of the throne.
The metal groaned, locking into place, an echo of finality ringing through the hall. With a controlled exhale, I removed my helmet, placing it on a perfectly sculpted indentation at the armrest, its skull faced visage staring lifelessly into the room.
As I did more gasps of schock followed with subdued murmurs spreading all over the throne room.
"Wait a minute I thought It was Alucard reborn, but In truth Its the Imperium's disgrace?!"
One of the senators whispered visibly relaxing.
"What the f*ck first he calls the high priestess a b*tch then desecrates the all father and now his throwing a coup de tate!"
A patrician woman barked.
"Someone end this farce already, how more longer will we allow that waste of space continue pulling this farce?!"
A wealthy merchant shouted. Ignoring the useless NPCs that I wrote without any ceremony, without hesitation, I placed the golden laurel crown upon my own head.
This action alone was enough to leave the gathered audience schocked to the point they could only bulge their eyes and open their mouths wide.
Because the only one who dared do this was the first and only Imperator Alucard Von Death.
The simple act of crowning himself Instead of allowing the g*ds spokesperson to crown oneself. Meant that, that person was either a sacraligious lunatic or someone who earned that crown with his own two hands.
The reason why no one deared do this after the Imperators death was that they Inherited the throne and well they simply didn't have the balls to do It.
I leaned back sideways against the throne, my legs crossed and placed them on the edge, my arms crossed resting lazily over my chest, my expression unreadable as I stared down at the gathered high and mighty of the Ducatum of whom at best only 10 percent had barely had any real worth.
Beside me, Lupa settled onto her armored stomach, her massive armored tail curling around herself, her golden eyes watching the court like a predator eyeing its prey.
As for me deep down? I was f*cking panicking. Oh sh*t, oh sh*t, oh sh*t. What the f*ck am I doing?! I'm staging a f*cking coup that's what. This was insane. This was reckless.
This was so far beyond anything I had ever done in my life that my real world instincts were SCREAMING at me to stop this madness at once.
I wasn't the existence defying artificially created galaxy destroying anti psionic weapon of mass destruction protagonist that I wrote him to be.
I was just a regular f*cking guy who had been shoved into this nightmare of a world that I created and was winging it harder than any man in history.
My palms were sweating under my gauntlets. My mind was racing, calculating every possible way I could die in the next five minutes.
After all even If I had 24 cohorts on my back and call who could wipe the floor with Ducatums army and an overgrown xeno bioengineered weapon of war aka Lupa.
The simple fact still remained that If I didn't get real control of the Ducatum there were endless ways I could end up dead.
For example a servant poisons my tea, a random woman that I hooked dup with slits my throat as I sleep. Bunch of senators stab me to death In cold blood. Any of my siblings decides to assassinate me.
And yet nobody moved. Nobody dared. They just… Stood there. Frozen. Because they too were afraid.
Because they were watching history unfold. Because for the first time in centuries, a throne had been taken, not given.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my expression to remain cold, emotionless. Then, in the calmest, most casual voice I could muster, I spoke.
"Well?"
The word echoed like a commandment from the g*ds.
"Are you all just going to stand there?"
I let the silence linger for one… two… three beats. Then...
"Kneel."
For a single, agonizing moment, no one moved. Then with the sound of rustling fabric, the groaning of old men, the shuffling of armored boots.
The entire court of the Ducatum fell to their knees. Senators, generals, merchants, nobles, priests.
One by one, they kneeled. Some hesitated, some lowered their heads grudgingly, but they all knelt. As they did something d*vine unfolded before their very eyes.
It started as a whisper a soft, ethereal hum vibrating through the air. Then, from nowhere and everywhere at once, angelic voices began to sing.
The melody was not of this world, a chorus of celestial harmonies that carried the weight of eternity itself.
The nobles shuddered, the merchants gasped, the soldiers clutched their weapons instinctively, some trembling so violently they could barely hold their ground.
Then golden laurel leaves began falling from the sky. Not just from above they materialized out of thin air, descending slowly, gracefully, weightless as feathers, dancing in the air before landing at my feet.
The High Priestess, who had been kneeling, suddenly gasped, her head snapping up, her eyes wide as saucers. Her voice was shaking, thick with something between terror and reverence.
"The... The G*ds have given their blessing!"
Then came the light. A soft, golden glow, not harsh, not blinding, but warm, all encompassing.
It emanated from nowhere and yet from me, wrapping around my seated form like a celestial mantle of power.
And then, behind me, A golden orbit appeared. Not just any halo, but a massive, shifting corona of sunrays, glowing with d*vine intensity, pulsating like a star brought to life.
And then. They descended. Valkyries, yeah you might be saying what does the Hellenic pantheon got anything to do with Valkyries, well I might have mixed up a few old g*ds pantheons Into one.
Spectral, half transparent figures of warrior maidens, their armor gilded, their wings vast as storm clouds, drifting down from the heavens themselves.
They moved with purpose, their expressions unreadable, their ghostly spears glinting in the d*vine radiance.
The entire court watched in absolute shock, unable to look away as the Valkyries descended one each on my side.
Carrying a phantom crown, a thing of pure light, pure authority, pure legend in their grasp. With an elegance beyond mortal understanding, they placed the spectral crown atop my already laurel crown covered head, the moment itself carrying the weight of d*vine anointment.
Then, they were gone. Like mist before the dawn, fading into nothingness. But their presence remained. Their declaration was made.
And the Imperial Court was utterly, completely, irreversibly shattered by it. The silence was deafening. Then a nobleman fainted outright, his body collapsing to the floor like a sack of stones.
A merchant clutched his head, eyes bulging in disbelief.
"This... this is impossible!"
He wheezed.
"I-Impossible!"
A legatus, one of the few who had not knelt fully, suddenly dropped to both knees, bowing so deeply his forehead touched the marble floor.
"By the g*ds... He is truly Imperator reborn!"
A senator, shaking like a leaf in a storm, grabbed another by the robes.
"You, you saw it too, didn't you?! This is not a trick, this is real! REAL!"
The High Priestess, still kneeling, trembled violently, her hands raised in praise and fear. Her voice cracked with emotion, barely a whisper.
"A new Imperator... chosen by the G*ds themselves."
"A demig*d risen from the dead."
"A ruler anointed by the heavens."
She lowered her head fully to the ground, prostrating herself.
"ALL HAIL THE IMPERATOR!"
And like a wave, the entire court followed.
"ALL HAIL THE IMPERATOR!"
The echo of their voices filled the great Throne Hall, reverberating through the stone walls, down the corridors, out into the streets, spreading like wildfire.
Outside, the citizens of Nova Roma felt it. Heard it. Knew it. The Imperator had returned.