Chapter 47: Palace

"I see. Let's hold our own Holy Grail debate."

Iskandar chuckled, "Haha, this could be interesting."

Waver: "But… what exactly are we debating?"

"Let's compare our ideals," Iskandar suggested with a grin. "We'll see who among us is most deserving of the Holy Grail based on their vision as a king. What do you think?"

The First Emperor spoke calmly, "Though the Holy Grail holds no interest for me, I'm curious to witness the aspirations of you so-called kings of the West."

Artoria nodded. "I have no objections."

Gilgamesh snorted dismissively. "A debate? How tedious."

---

"It seems the theme of this debate will be each king's vision," Iskandar remarked, sounding slightly disappointed. "It's a pity I didn't bring any wine—could have turned this into a real banquet, like in the video."

"Mongrel, what foolishness are you spouting?" Gilgamesh glanced around disdainfully. "In a lifeless place like this, even the best wine would taste bland."

"You're not wrong," Iskandar admitted, looking around at the blank, empty space. "This place is too plain. There's nothing here at all."

"In that case, let me grant you entry to my palace," the First Emperor said with a faint smile.

With a wave of his hand, the entire landscape transformed.

The empty white void gave way to a vast, majestic square, and before them rose a colossal imperial palace, its grandeur almost beyond description.

---

The scale and beauty of the palace could only be described with one phrase: Unmatched in all history.

Just the main hall alone rested on a foundation as high as a three-story building, its architecture exquisite beyond words, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The palace grounds featured pavilions at every turn, and no matter how far one looked, the splendor seemed endless. It was clear that even a full day would not be enough to explore every corner.

This palace was vast enough to rival an entire city.

---

"Afang Palace," Zhang Jiao whispered.

The Afang Palace—the legendary grand palace of Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor. Though burned down in history, what stood before them was the palace in its prime, its magnificence restored.

Aside from Zhang Jiao, everyone else was equally stunned by the sheer grandeur of the palace.

---

"This must be a Reality Marble," Kayneth said, regaining his composure. He realized what was happening.

A Reality Marble, was a powerful type of magecraft, capable of manifesting one's personal realm—a landscape of the mind made reality. It was one of the rarest forms of magecraft, close to what magi considered true magic, and highly restricted by the Mage's Association.

Kayneth had never expected to witness such a feat firsthand.

---

"Hahaha! Is this your palace, First Emperor?" Iskandar laughed, his voice filled with admiration. "What a grand place! I'm tempted to conquer it."

The First Emperor merely gave a calm smile. "If you believe you can, you're welcome to try."

It was clear he didn't see Iskandar's words as a serious challenge.

---

Suddenly, a steady rhythm of footsteps echoed from the palace interior.

The sound grew louder, as though a legion of soldiers was approaching.

Moments later, a group of stone figures, clad in armor and armed with weapons, emerged from the palace, marching in perfect formation.

"Those… they look like the Terracotta Warriors!" Chihiro exclaimed, recognizing the stone soldiers immediately.

These weren't ordinary statues, they moved with the fluidity of living soldiers, like a legion brought back from the past.

The Terracotta Warriors lined up along both sides of the path, forming a solemn, silent guard of honor.

Gilgamesh scoffed, though a hint of irritation flashed in his eyes. "Hmph, mere puppets."

"Everyone, please proceed to the palace," the First Emperor said, before disappearing into the grand hall.

With no other option, the group followed the path lined by the Terracotta Warriors, making their way toward the main hall of Afang Palace.

"Come in; no need for formalities," the First Emperor's voice echoed from within the hall.

Entering, they found him seated upon an elaborate throne, a dragon couch befitting an emperor.

The hall itself was adorned with painted rafters, carved beams, and shimmering drapery, creating a space that radiated imperial authority.

"Everyone, please take your seats."

With a wave of his hand, a row of elegant desks and low seats appeared on both sides of the hall.

Gilgamesh's face darkened as he took in the seating arrangement. "You expect me to sit beneath you, mere Emperor?"

He felt it was beneath his dignity to sit as a subordinate to anyone.

"You insolent king," the First Emperor replied coolly. "In my palace, you will take your place accordingly. Here, you're nothing but a guest."

"What?!"

In a flash, Gilgamesh found himself moved to the last seat on the right, unable to stand up no matter how hard he tried.

Struggling against the unseen force, Gilgamesh seethed, his pride wounded.

"What have you done to me?!"

It was rare for Gilgamesh to encounter anything or anyone who could restrict his actions, and he was utterly incensed.

The First Emperor's gaze was cold and unwavering. "In my palace, a guest has no right to defy my authority."