In the palace hall where a heavy silence reigns, Emperor Garm Eisenhardt sits deep in his throne, looking down at his kneeling subordinates with eyes as cold as ice. In the vast space, only the trembling voice of the minister giving his report and the dry sound of Garm boredly tapping the armrest with his fingertip echo hollowly.

...Continue. Prove to me that there is any point in spending my time on that worthless report. If one more tedious word escapes your mouth...

His low, inflectionless voice cuts sharply through the air of the hall. At those words, stripped of both mercy and emotion, the gathered nobles hold their breath, freezing as if they had just been sentenced to death. The overwhelming pressure emitted by the Emperor is that of an absolute ruler, and everyone bows their heads as if to escape his gaze.

However, that frozen equilibrium is suddenly and violently shattered by a loud crash. The heavy double doors the palace prides itself on are slammed open from the outside, swinging wide as if struck by both hands.