If Ashley hadn’t run out and stopped him, President Holland might not even be conscious right now—he might not even be standing. The room fell silent, shaken. Drake… had applauded. He had literally clapped in delight watching Arthur beat President Holland senseless. Even if President Holland had crossed a line, he was still a prime minister—a man with a nation behind him. Yet Drake, governor of a small island, applauded Arthur’s fists like it was a show worth cheering. Not a second of hesitation. No consideration. No diplomacy. It was a slap to the face of Tamaria as a whole. This wasn’t just audacity. This was dominance. Drake hadn’t just brushed aside Tamaria’s influence—he crushed it underfoot like it meant nothing. And now everyone in the room saw it for what it was. They’d always heard that Heaven’s Cult was powerful and mysterious. But they hadn’t expected Drake to be this fearless. To throw aside the weight of an entire country, just like that? A few of them began to sweat for themselves. Would this whole debacle hurt their chances of joining the Cult? And worse—when President Holland first slandered Drake, some of them had followed his lead. Their words hadn’t been as vulgar, but they’d clearly added fuel to the fire. Would Drake lump them in with Holland? Would they suffer the same fate? Their nerves frayed further when Drake’s expression shifted. That flicker of enjoyment vanished. His eyes sharpened like blades as they swept across the room. Everyone froze. Drake’s voice was soft, almost lazy. But it cut deep.“You dared to lie to my face… You must think I’m a joke, don’t you?” The temperature in the room dropped like a stone. The fear hit all at once. Some finally cracked, scrambling to plead their case. “Governor, no! I—we never meant it like that. I swear, we never disrespected you!” “Yes, Mr. Drake! We only covered for President Holland because we knew him. We never meant to offend you!” “That’s right! We were only trying to help a friend. We’d never dream of deceiving you—you, of all people!” “Governor, this was all just a misunderstanding! We really thought Arthur had broken the rules. We’d never dare speak ill of you or your name!” Some begged. Some blamed. A few even turned on President Holland. And President Holland? He sat cold, watching them crumble. Just moments ago, they were his allies—joking, laughing, covering for him like brothers. Now, they were tripping over themselves to distance from him. But he wasn’t surprised. He’d spent too many years in power to expect loyalty. They were survivors—just like him. When tides turned, they ran. If the situation were reversed, he would’ve done the same. Maybe even kicked them while they were down. Drake, however, had heard enough. His lip curled in disgust. “Enough.” At that word, the room fell dead silent again. Drake leaned back in his chair, voice cold and unwavering.“I’m not a fool you can manipulate with a few excuses and pretty words.” “If you dare to treat me like an idiot—if you think so little of me—then Heaven’s Cult has no place for you.” The words were light. But they struck like lightning. Everyone froze. No place…? “You’re banning us?” someone finally choked. “Mr. Drake, you can’t be serious! Over a few words?” “This was just a misunderstanding—yes, we made some mistakes, but we’ll apologize! We’ll do anything. This doesn’t need to end like this!” “Please, Governor! We’re leaders in our nations. Every one of us holds real power. You can’t just—cut us off!” But they still didn’t understand. They still thought they could negotiate. That power and status could sway Drake. President Holland stood, seething. The humiliation was too much. And under the pressure of fury, even his speech—once slurred from injury—began to clear.