Luca finally understood.

Everything Luna and Lulu had said about their father—calling him a liar, a manipulator, a cheater who deceived people with words—it all made perfect sense now.

At first, he thought the girls were exaggerating, maybe just blinded by resentment toward a neglectful parent.

But now, watching him at work, Luca realized they hadn't been exaggerating at all.

They had been understating it.

Because what Julius was doing now was the work of a master manipulator.

He wasn't attacking head-on.

He was instead sculpting the entire conversation, molding emotions, and guiding the crowd exactly where he wanted them to go, step by step, like a puppeteer pulling invisible strings.

Luca could see it clearly.

If Julius had simply stood up from the beginning and said,

"The hero is a monster who killed thousands."

The elves would have immediately defended him.

They would've reasoned that war always brings bloodshed, that killing enemies is sometimes a grim necessity.

They would've brushed it off and still seen him as a protector.

But Julius didn't do that.

Instead, he started with praise.

Lavishing admiration, describing him as a hero, a savior, the pride of the demi-human continent.

He made everyone nod along, made them trust him, made them feel like he was on their side, that he was on Luca's side.

He built credibility first, made the crowd feel safe, made them lower their guard.

And then, just when everyone believed him—he flipped the table.

He twisted the tone from admiration to sorrow, from reverence to moral condemnation.

He made it sound as if his heart was too pure, too humane, too righteous to accept the atrocities Luca had supposedly committed.

And the brilliance of it was that it didn't sound like an accusation—it sounded like a plea.

Luca couldn't help but smirk inwardly.

'He's not calling me a monster outright. He's letting them do it for him.'

He was doing what every manipulator did best—pulling people's empathy against their own logic.

By making himself look heartbroken and righteous, Julius had made Luca look cruel and inhuman, without saying it directly.

And of course, the details he added were perfectly crafted to shake them further.

The numbers, the brutality, the so-called 'rivers of blood.'

He didn't just tell them people died—he painted it in their heads.

He turned it into poetry, dark and grotesque, so that even the ones who wanted to defend Luca now felt uneasy.

And even though Luca hadn't denied or confirmed anything yet, the mere idea was already sinking in.

The crowd's perception of him was shifting rapidly.

Moments ago, they saw a hero who saved them from destruction.

Now they looked at him and wondered—what kind of monster could kill so many people alone?

It wasn't that they were ungrateful. It wasn't betrayal.

It was human—or rather, elven—instinct. Fear was natural.

They couldn't help but be frightened of something so powerful.

They couldn't help but doubt someone capable of that kind of destruction.

Even Luna and Lulu, who had stood beside him all this time, were visibly shaken. Luna's usually calm expression was clouded with confusion, her eyes darting between Julius and Luca.

The trust Luca had carefully earned was slowly unraveling before his eyes.

Luca could also feel it—the atmosphere growing cold, the unease rippling through the crowd like an invisible wave. He could hear whispers spreading:

"Could it be true?"

"He seemed so kind…"

"How could someone like him…?"

And yet, Luca smiled.

Because now, he understood the game.

Julius was not a fool. He was dangerous, a master manipulator, just as Luna had said.

But Luca had seen countless men like him before, on far grander stages than this. And while Julius could play the crowd like a puppet master, he had no idea who he was truly trying to manipulate this time.

Still, Luca had to give him credit. The performance was impressive.

Even Leona and Nyx, who seemed to recognize what was happening had faint frowns on their faces.

They knew this wasn't truth; this was theatre.

But even they stayed silent, gauging how far Julius would go.

A few of the older, wiser elves in the crowd also exchanged knowing looks, but their voices were drowned by the rising tide of murmurs and panic.

The rest of the villagers were swept up in Julius's words, their emotions too easily molded by his rhythm.

And Julius knew it.

He looked around the crowd, his expression carefully painted with grief.

But his eyes. His eyes were gleaming.

Gleaming with satisfaction.

He was enjoying this.

Even as he spoke with a heavy, dramatic tone, he was feeding off their gasps, their horrified faces, their fear.

This was power to him.

Julius finally looked back at Luca, expecting him to tremble, to defend himself, to break character.

He was waiting for the panic—for Luca to shout, to deny it, to explain. Because that would make him look even guiltier, even weaker in front of everyone.

But instead to his utter shock—Luca simply stood there, that same easygoing smile resting on his lips, his dark, steady eyes fixed on Julius with quiet amusement.

Julius's breath caught.

There was something in those eyes—something far too calm, too sharp, too ancient—that made him look away for a brief second.

That unbothered composure unnerved him. It frustrated him even though he didn't even say anything yet.

So Julius doubled down. He needed to regain control of the stage.

He took a slow breath, letting his voice tremble with faux sadness.

"But...it wasn't just that." He said, shaking his head solemnly. "There's more. Things even worse than the bloodshed itself."

He looked up again, his expression full of tragic sorrow.

"Because normally, in war, the ones who die are men, soldiers on the frontlines. They fight, they fall. That's the way of war. But you…" His eyes shifted to Luca, his tone sharpening. "…you didn't stop there, did you?"

Luca stayed silent.

"You killed women too."

Julius said, raising his voice slightly, letting the words echo.

"So many human women—innocent ones—who weren't even warriors. Torn apart just like the men. You showed no mercy at all."

Gasps rippled through the elves, not expecting such a accusation. Their hearts were particularly heavy with discomfort as they were women themselves.

The image Julius was weaving had already sunk into them.

"And there was one case…" Julius went on, lowering his tone for effect. "One that I can never forget."

He paused just long enough for the silence to thicken, then continued softly.

"A group of sisters—priestesses, who served their goddess in a church near the border. They were praying when he came. When he banged on their doors, they begged for mercy. They cried, they screamed."

"And do you know what he did?"

His voice turned almost whispery, trembling with mock sorrow.

"He burned them alive."

The elves gulped in dread, while Julius nodded dramatically.

"He set the church on fire with them still inside. Their screams filled the entire village. By the end, there wasn't even ash left of them. No bones. No bodies. Just dust carried by the wind."

A sharp gasp broke out among the crowd. Some of the younger elves even stepped back from Luca in horror, trembling.

Julius pressed on mercilessly. "And that's not even the worst part." He said. "There's something else. Something...far more terrible. Something that still haunts me when I close my eyes."

He stopped again, lowering his gaze dramatically.

His shoulders trembled as if the memory was too much to bear.

Luca almost wanted to laugh. The performance was impeccable.

Julius even paused at perfect intervals, letting the silence pull the tension tighter around everyone like a noose.

A few elves, unable to handle the suspense, called out. "What is it? Please tell us, what did he do?"

Another said anxiously. "Yes, tell us!"

Julius shook his head, his hand on his chest. "No...I can't. It's too horrible. I can't bring myself to say it."

"Please!" A voice pleaded. "We have to know!"

He sighed deeply, feigning reluctance, then finally nodded as if he was granting them a painful favor.

"Fine." He said softly. "Even though I hate to say it...I'll tell you."

He turned toward Luca with a face full of sadness, his voice breaking just slightly for effect.

"Not only did he kill men and women. But..."

"...he killed children too."

The reaction was immediate and explosive.

The elves gasped. A few cried out. One young elf's voice cracked as she shouted,

"No! That's not true! He wouldn't—he couldn't!"

Another stammered, shaking his head. "There's no way...that's something only a devil would do!"

But Julius simply closed his eyes, his face twisted with tragic acceptance.

"I wish it weren't true." He said softly. "I wish I could say it was a lie. But it's not. The reports I've seen...they're real. The bodies were real. Eighteen children. Eighteen innocent lives—gone."

The elves eyes widened in horror.

That final accusation was the killing blow.

The crowd that had once cheered for Luca now recoiled. They stepped back, uncertain, frightened, whispering among themselves.

The admiration in their eyes was gone—replaced with confusion, fear, and disbelief. Even Luna and Lulu looked shaken, hesitating as they glanced between their father and the man they'd trusted.

Leona's face hardened as well, her eyes narrowing slightly—she hadn't heard this part before either.

Nyx, however, simply watched Julius in silence, her gaze dark and piercing, as if she already knew the truth behind his act.

And through it all, Luca stood quietly in the center of it calmly, smiling faintly.

Because now he fully understood.

This was Julius's true nature.

The smiling snake.

The charming liar.

The perfect manipulator who could twist a saint into a villain with nothing more than his words.

And Luca's lips curved into a sharper smile.

If Julius wanted a stage, then he'd just given one to the wrong man.

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