King Gorgon stood frozen, eyes locked on the flag held high in Fenrir's hand.
His breath was shallow, and the cheers of the crowd were nothing more than distant echoes. He blinked once, then again, as if trying to process what he was seeing.
Fenrir took a step forward.
"Well? Now that this is done, what next, King Gorgon?"
The king exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping.
"Give me a moment… I need to process this. I never expected to lose like this, but fate seems to have other plans for me."
His voice was quieter than before, humbled. But after a beat, he raised his head and addressed the crowd.
A murmur of surprise rippled through the soldiers and citizens. Many were stunned, but none dared object—except for one.
The lady, still standing atop the platform, looked like her world had collapsed. Her expression was a storm of disbelief, fury, and betrayal.
"No. You can't be serious."
She said sharply. King Gorgon turned to her, confused.
"He won, didn't he?"
