human
Rommel:  "Huh?" Rommel said stupidly as he grasped the hilt of the sword and attempted to draw it out.
gpt
Rommel:  "!" And well he might, for the moment he did so, the hand that touched the sword burst into flame, which quickly became a conflagration that consumed him in the space of an instant. Rommel couldn’t even cry out as the flames engulfed him. He could not even speak, for his throat and lungs were the first things to be burned away. He perished without so much as a death rattle. Rommel fell upon the carpet, seared, dead before he even had a chance to writhe in agony. He was so badly blackened, it was impossible to tell whether his corpse had fallen on its back or its front.
human
Lamia:  "Ugh. He stinks.” Several siblings looked like they might be sick as the stomach-turning stench of roasted human flesh began to rise, but Lamia, her brow furrowed, summed it up succinctly.
gpt
Prisca:  Only the emperor is permitted to touch it. That much is clear.” As for Prisca, who had recently witnessed her entire entourage burned to ashes, the scene was surprising but not repulsive. Even then, her surprise wasn’t directed toward Rommel’s death, but rather at its source: the Bright Sword.
human
Vincent:  Vincent offered this murmured assessment.
gpt
Dreizen:  "Silence." Dreizen said, cutting off the expression of astonishment at Rommel’s death. The aged emperor looked around the great hall, turning a penetrating gaze on each of his children.
human
Other:  "Wh-what’s going on?" asked one of the others in a timorous voice, having noticed the same thing. Namely, the space in front of each of them was warping and twisting, and a red sword hilt had emerged before them. It happened in front of Prisca, and it happened in front of Vincent and Lamia as well. Was this some sort of joke? From thin air had appeared thirty-one Bright Swords, exactly as many as the number of siblings in the room (now that Rommel was dead).
gpt
Dreizen:  “We will now begin the Rite of Imperial Selection." Dreizen announced. He made no acknowledgment of the staggering scene and spoke with only his own unamplified voice. Suddenly, he was no longer the withered tree, the elderly ruler, the guttering flame not worth kneeling to. His eyes open wide now, Dreizen looked like a raging fire. "The Bright Sword chooses its own master.