Chapter 179: Emperor Augustus Valtherion the Thirteenth

At the heart of the palace stood the Imperial Court itself.

The throne room emphasized authority.

The chamber was nearly two hundred meters long.

Towering pillars supported a vaulted ceiling painted with the history of mankind’s survival.

The polished white floor reflected the light pouring through immense stained-glass windows.

A crimson carpet stretched from the entrance directly toward an elevated platform.

Upon that platform stood the Throne of Valtherion.

Forged from white auric stone and trimmed with gold and mythril, it was deliberately austere. Behind it rose the imperial crest—a radiant sun encircled by seven stars, symbolizing the Emperor’s guardianship over the Seven Core Provinces.

The Emperor’s throne stood alone.

Flanking the central aisle were ranked positions reserved for the Empire’s governance: the Grand Marshal, the Grand Chancellor, the High Justiciar, the Grand Magister, the Grand Spymaster, he High Pontiff, the Imperial Treasurer, and the Seven Provincial Governors.

No other seat matched its height.

Each stood according to rank during official audiences, reinforcing that every institution of the Empire ultimately served beneath the Emperor’s authority.

At the moment, the Thirteenth Emperor were present, including his predecessors all the way to ninth.

Only the eleventh Emperor was not present.

Because he was already dead.

In the central aisle, every single one were present, except the Seven Provincial Governors.

Bestowing a reward for Max didn’t even require them to be summoned.

Furthermore, the Seven Provincial Governors were more busy than the others, who were present.

Those present, on the other hand, immediately came as soon as they received the news of Max’s Imperial Summon.

They had been waiting for grueling hours, but not a single one of them complained.

Instead, a meeting inevitably formed, where the Emperors inquired about the state of the Empire.

Eventually, the palatial door opened and an Imperial Guard, a C-rank Vanguard, entered and bowed deeply.

He informed the arrival of two individuals who were summoned by the Imperial Family.

Afterwards, he left.

Silence descended. Every single one had their eyes glued to the opened door.

Two individuals, one was familiar and the other was unfamiliar, entered the Imperial Court.

Max couldn’t even have the time to enjoy the breathtaking architecture of the Imperial Court as he felt a massive pressure descending on him.

The density of mana filled with different authority actually clashed that naked eyes could not see.

And he was the center of it.

He gritted his teeth and tried his best to compose as he followed Lancelot, who was unusually solemn.

When they reached a certain part of the crimson carpet, Lancelot waved his hand around and said, "By the authority of the imperial summon, I announce the presence of Maximus Grant.

Your Imperial Majesty, Emperor Augustus Valtherion the Thirteenth, I have accomplished the mission that your Majesty bestowed upon me."

Emperor Agustus Valtherion the Thirteenth sat upon the throne, with his predecessors behind him.

Every single one of them gazed at Max, causing the latter to feel an immense pressure descending upon him.

Max inwardly thought. So this is the feeling of being stared at by S-rankers, huh?

Max marveled. At the same time, he wasn’t surprised that the Empire lasted for a millenium.

In the Imperial Court alone, there were eleven S-rank, twice higher than what Earth had produced.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Earth could last for a millennium, given that not only there were only five S-rank players, each of them were competing with each other for territory.

It was precisely why he desired to unite Earth if he wanted to prevent the demons from swallowing them in just a few decades.

Max stared at the Emperor.

The Emperor did not possess the overwhelming physique of a War Lord nor the terrifying aura of a Sword Saint.

Instead...

He radiated absolute authority.

Standing nearly 190 centimeters tall, his posture remained perfectly straight despite his age. Every movement was measured and deliberate, carrying the composure of a man who had spent decades deciding the fate of millions.

His face bore handsome, sharp features shaped by time rather than softened by luxury. Fine lines at the corners of his eyes hinted at long years of burden, yet they only enhanced the dignity etched into his expression.

His silver hair was neatly combed back, revealing a broad forehead often described as the "Crown of Wisdom."

A few strands framed his temples, while the rest fell just above his shoulders.

His eyes...

They were the most unsettling feature.

A brilliant sapphire blue with faint golden rings surrounding the irises.

Max could perceive how those eyes seemed capable of seeing several moves into the future.

One glance from the Emperor was enough to overfill him with doubts about his responsibilities as a responsible citizen of the Empire.

Unlike powerful warriors whose mana surged violently,

the Emperor’s mana was...

silent.

No oppressive pressure.

No overwhelming killing intent.

No explosive display of power.

Yet Max could feel pressure from his mere presence.

He also felt as though the entire room unconsciously adjusted itself around him.

Even veteran Lancelot admitted earlier that standing before the Emperor felt like standing before the Empire itself.

The Emperor sat upon the Throne of Valtherion with one hand resting lightly on its armrest.

There was no excessive ornamentation.

No exaggerated pose.

Simply quiet confidence.

His three predecessors stood behind him.

The other powerful officials occupied their designated positions below the throne.

None dared speak before the Emperor did.

For the first time since arriving in Aurelion Prime, Max truly understood why the Empire had survived for over twelve centuries.

Its greatest weapon was not merely its armies, its walls, or its legendary heroes.

The greatest example was the man seated upon the Throne of Valtherion—the Thirteenth Emperor, whose every decision shaped the destiny of an empire.

There were then his predecessors behind him.

Max knew that those individuals were by no means ordinary.

They exuded similar aura of the Emperor—just more profoundly deep

The Tacticians’ class had indeed saved the Empire for more than a millennium...

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