The air in the Great Hall was thick with the stench of conquest, a nauseating blend of blood and burnt earth that clung to Momo's silken gown. Sixteen knights, once sworn to protect a rival kingdom, now knelt in subjugation before her father's throne. Each bore the marks of battle – bruised knuckles, torn surcoats, and eyes filled with a haunting resignation. Sixteen lives, reduced to trophies of war.

"Choose, Daughter," King Yaoyorozu's voice echoed through the hall, heavy with the weight of victory. He gestured towards the kneeling figures with a dismissive wave. "Select a knight to serve as your personal guard. Let them witness the strength of our kingdom." Momo's heart clenched at his words. The victory felt hollow, tainted by the massacre that had paved its way. Her gaze drifted over the assembled knights, each a symbol of a fallen kingdom.

Yet, amidst the uniformity of defeat, one figure stood apart.

While the others bowed their heads in supplication, one knight remained defiantly upright. Their shoulders were squared, their chin held high, and a fierce fire burned in their eyes. A spark of defiance in the face of overwhelming defeat.

A strange sense of kinship stirred within Momo, a silent recognition of shared discomfort in this macabre display. Who was this lone rebel, willing to stand tall when all others had fallen? Momo took a step forward, drawn by an invisible thread towards the defiant knight.

"What is the meaning of this?" The King roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the hall. "Kneel, cur, before your princess!"