Note from Void_Scribe: đ Hello everyone! To be completely honest, I don't have any excuses or big explanations for the delay in uploading new chapters, so I just want to sincerely apologize for the wait. It is not always easy to keep up the pace, but here is the new chapter for you all. I am truly sorry for the delay, and I really hope you enjoy it!
CHAPTER 218: Chaos in the Shadow and the Palace of a Thousand Pleasures
Within the temporal isolation of the Hundred-Thread Mandala, the concept of time flowed independently. Twelve full days had passed since Dante and his shadow squad had locked themselves inside that array, submerged in a silence so dense that not even the beating of their own hearts disturbed the atmosphere.
Sitting in the center of the void, Dante opened his eyes. There was no explosion of energy or wave of martial pressure; his body simply seemed to blur for a fraction of a second, like a drop of ink being absorbed into a sheet of black parchment.
They had managed to consolidate their mastery of the Shadowless Specter Sutra to its third stage, the Ink Body, granting their skeletal and muscular structures a spiritual malleability capable of filtering through formations without fracturing them.
Dante silently stood up and observed his companions, who were already standing and waiting for him, draped in cloaks of darkness that devoured the sparse residual light in the room. With a cold smile, laden with a contained and perfectly sharpened bloodlust, he spoke to them in a measured tone:
"Twelve days in here have been more than enough to solidify our foundation. It is time to move out toward the underworld of this territory, but first... we must deliver our report."
Dante pulled a dark jade communication stone from his garments and channeled a thread of his divine sense. Barely a couple of minutes later, the space in front of him distorted, and from a shadow rift emerged the figure of Elder Sela.
Without wasting time on unnecessary formalities, Dante precisely summarized the events that had involved Aia's squad on the outside over the past few days, culminating in the handover of a purple memory crystal: the recording of Cassian Aurelia.
"Well done, boys," Sela said, taking the crystal with a glint of approval in her eyes. "I will personally handle this piece. Stay in the shadows and await news soon."
Dante nodded with a slight bow and, with a simple wave of his hand, his entire squad dissolved into the darkness, marching silently toward the depths of Aethelgard's underworld.
Meanwhile, deep within the sanctuary of the Morningstar clan, the Throne Room was plunged into a solemn stillness. Matriarch Lilith rested upon her elevated seat of affliction stone, entirely alone; neither Sienna nor Vexia were present in the hall.
The silence broke when Sela materialized her figure at the foot of the steps and handed over the memory crystal along with the assault division's report.
Listening to the summary, Lilith rubbed her temples with her fingertips, letting out a long sigh of pure exasperation:
"So you're telling me those brats had barely spent two days setting foot in Aethelgard... and they already managed to cause a disaster and kill the heir of one of the major families?"
When Lilith had joked in the past saying those youths were "walking chaos," she had meant it as an affectionate metaphor; she never imagined they would take the instruction so literally. Of course, a local power like the Aurelia family didn't represent the slightest real threat to the Morningstar clan, but the destructive precociousness of her cubs left her speechless.
"And what exactly did they record on that stone?" Lilith asked, sitting upright on the throne with curiosity.
Sela injected a pulse of Qi into the purple crystal, projecting into the air of the room the exact holograph of what had occurred on the shores of the glacial lake under the power of Lyra's Requiem Bell and Staff of the Eternal Mist.
The image lit up with the violet vapor of the dream illusion. In the projection, there were no sword fights or tactical dismemberments; it showed the proud heir Cassian Aurelia and his colossal barbarian bodyguard, Gorn, completely stripped of their reason, modesty, and social hierarchy. Driven by the sensory lie Lyra had branded into their nervous systems, both men were tearing off armor and silk robes with savage jerks amidst the frozen mud, surrounded by the hundred mangled corpses of their own imperial guard.
Both Lilith and Sela watched in stunned silence the parade of absolute degradation: Gorn pushing Cassian against the cracked trunk of a millennial pine, possessing him with an animalistic ferocity devoid of control, while the aristocrat arched amidst obscene pants, degrading pleas, and bites laden with a feverish lust, getting smeared with the mud and residual blood of his own subordinates.
When the projection dissipated into the air, Lilith blinked several times, processing the obscene level of psychological manipulation, and let out a dry laugh that echoed off the vaulted ceiling:
"Good heavens... those brats can be absolutely terrifying. It's one thing to kill your enemy, and a completely different one to strip him of the last vestige of human dignity before he dies! The illusion art of that little Lyra is chilling. Making the heir of a superpower degrade himself like that in his final breath... is a punishment infinitely worse than physical death. Though, who am I kidding... it was a fascinating show and a more than fitting punishment for a worm of that caliber. And from what you mentioned, the subject died shortly after, right?"
"That is correct, Matriarch," Sela nodded, putting the crystal away. "Lyra didn't just destroy their bodies; she broke their souls and handed us the perfect blackmail tool."
"Good. Now the question is: how do we get the most mileage out of this little gift on the city's chessboard?" Lilith crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as her eyes gleamed with strategic malice. "Sela, you had already been gathering intelligence on the balance of power in Aethelgard. What do you propose?"
"I believe we can sell or hand this recording over directly to the Morwenna family," Sela explained without hesitation. "They maintain a feud with the Aurelias. I highly doubt they will pass up the opportunity to leak this information to destroy their rivals' reputation and ego. For the Aurelias, this won't just be a military loss, but a devastating public humiliation that will fracture their authority."
"Exactly what we need to stir the waters," Lilith nodded with a satisfied smile. "I leave that management in your hands, Sela. Personally handle the delivery. However, as an elementary precaution, take Thalassa with you. In case that family decides to get arrogant or tries something stupid upon seeing the recording, it is best to have brute force backup. If the situation demands it, you know you have authorization to open a portal and return immediately."
"As you command, Matriarch," Sela bowed before merging once again with the shadows on the floor.
Lilith watched her leave and stretched on the throne, murmuring to herself with an amused smile:
"Look at all the administrative work you leave me, my dear nephew... While you lock yourself away to cultivate in peace, your poor aunt has to pull the strings of the kingdom. Oh well, I can't complain... it's time to go recharge some energy with little Celeste."
Leaving the Throne Room, Sela headed toward a classified sector of the sanctuary: a permanent spatial fissure leading to the mirror dimension designed by Sienna. In that sub-world, prisoners of war and newly captured troops were stored awaiting processing as cannon fodder for the clan.
Walking along the crystalline corridors, Sela ignored the ordinary captives' cells until reaching the maximum-security section, where the Saint King of the Violet Cloud Sect was being held.
In front of the containment cell stood the Sixth Elder, Thalassa Morningstar.
Sensing a fluctuation in space, Thalassa slowly turned around. Her mere presence altered the ambient gravity; she exuded an aura of seduction, dense and hypnoticâa succubus magnetism so deeply ingrained in her bloodline that it operated passively without her having to lift a single finger.
"Oh, hello, Sela," Thalassa greeted in a voice that seemed to vibrate directly in the chest of whoever heard it. "What brings you to this gloomy corner? Forgive the mess and the background noise... it's just that this guest didn't want to behave properly and let his tongue slip with some insolence. But let's leave this useless fool asideâare you looking for me for an interesting task?"
Sela watched her silently for a second. Even as a cold, trained assassin, she recognized that every word, every breath, and every movement of Thalassa was a masterpiece of biological temptation.
"The Matriarch ordered you to accompany me outside to deliver a small diplomatic gift," Sela explained, forming a subtle, sadistic smile. "We're going to cause a little chaos."
Thalassa's cyan eyes flashed with a predatory glint, and she slowly licked her lips:
"Wonderful. I was already getting bored of this confinement. Let's go."
Both women left the mirror dimension and activated a runic portal key, tearing open a spatial rift in a dense forest several kilometers from the outer walls of Aethelgard.
The instant their boots touched the earth of the southern continent, Sela channeled the laws of the Shadowless Specter Sutra, wrapping both her figure and Thalassa's in a distortion field. Without emitting a single sound, they rose into the air, passed right over the imposing black marble walls of the metropolis ignoring the bastions' guards, and descended smoothly into a dark alley in the outer ring.
Deactivating the major concealment, they blended seamlessly into the crowd of passersby.
The streets of Aethelgard boiled in a state of absolute paranoia and military agitation. Squads of armored soldiers bearing the golden sun emblem of the Aurelia family marched at a quickened pace down main avenues, violently shoving merchants and demanding identification at the top of their lungs. Whispers among mercenaries at street stalls were continuous; the terror over heir Cassian's death had turned the city into a hotbed of suspicion.
To avoid drawing the attention of spiritual tracking hounds, Sela guided her companion into a rustic, crowded inn in the commercial district. The atmosphere inside was heavy, saturated with cheap tobacco smoke, the smell of mercenary sweat, and the clashing of wooden mugs.
They sat at a secluded table in a dark corner. The innkeeper, a burly man with a scarred face, approached eyeing them sideways with some suspicion given their fine clothes and upright postures.
"What'll it be?" he grunted, wiping the table with a damp rag.
"Two plates of spiritual boar stew and a jug of wine," Sela ordered in a neutral, polite voice.
When the man brought the steaming food a few minutes later, Sela reached into her bag and placed a stack of silver coins on the wood, adding a couple of extra pieces as a tip.
They consumed their meal in silence, listening in the background to drunkards' conversations about roadblocks at the city exits, before standing up and resuming their march toward the true heart of vice in Aethelgard.
Walking toward the prestigious eastern district, the architectural landscape began to shift drastically, transitioning from dirty stone streets to clean water canals and jade-paved bridges. In the distance, rising like a mirage of decadence and splendor, stood the undisputed jewel of the Morwenna family: the Palace of a Thousand Pleasures.
It was no simple brothel or teahouse; it was a marvel of martial engineering designed to dazzle and trap the wealthiest prey.
The monumental structure did not touch solid ground; it rose majestically in the center of a vast artificial lake whose hot springs emitted scented vapors of lotus and jasmine. To enter, clients had to cross long, curved bridges of immaculate white jade or be ferried on elegant floating barges carved from sandalwood. Sela observed the waters with a critical eye and gave a slight nod: the entire lake acted as a massive natural spatial isolation arrayâan architectural trap preventing any teleportation or unauthorized escape attempts from within the compound.
The main body of the building consisted of seven imposing towers of dark mahogany wood, connected by hanging bridges entwined with vines. Their roofs, built with perfectly polished obsidian tiles, reflected the glow of thousands of floating crimson and purple silk lanterns orbiting smoothly around the palace, powered by continuous energy cores.
"Not bad," Thalassa commented, evaluating the exterior aesthetic with an appreciative look. "It's a quite elegant place. You can tell that family didn't spare any resources erecting this golden cage."
Sela, however, wasn't paying attention to the facade's beauty. Through a silent telepathic link, she maintained direct communication with an undercover agent from the Eyes of the Void network, who had infiltrated as a servant days prior to monitor the building.
"The target is confirmed. The owner is in her chambers," Sela whispered, cutting the connection. "Let's go in."
Crossing the palace thresholds, the sensory overstimulation was immediate and overwhelming.
The first level, known as the Grand Hall of Silk Echoes, was designed to eradicate any notion of time and the outside world. The ceiling vanished tens of meters above, supported by formidable jade columns carved into entwined serpents and dancing nymphs. The floor, an immense piece of tempered black crystal, acted as a dark mirror duplicating the lighting and the figures walking upon it.
Unlike traditional fortresses, there were no solid stone walls in the palace separating entertainment areas; space was divided by a labyrinth of eagle-wood folding screens and multi-layered living silk curtains. The calculated transparency allowed glimpses of diffuse silhouettes of men and women in intimate entanglements, casting shadows of perpetual eroticism, yet thanks to complex acoustic isolation formations, not a single moan, laugh, or whisper leaked outside.
The music floating in the airârhythmic chords of zithers, bamboo flutes, and silver bellsâoperated under specific martial frequencies, masking any noise and relaxing the heart rates of those present.
Taking their third step into the grand hall, both Sela and Thalassa slightly flared their nostrils noticing a strange compound in the air. It wasn't a poison or a drug; the environment was saturated with an exotic fragrance known as Lethargy Orchid Smoke, an alchemical formulation designed to passively relax the nervous system, numb suspicion, and lower the mental defenses of the Sea of Consciousness, making even Saint Realm cultivators talk too much and lower their guard without realizing it.
The dragon blood flowing through both women's veins reacted instantly. Their divine metabolisms identified the toxin, isolated it, and incinerated it in a fraction of a millisecond, exhaling the harmless remnant in an invisible, hot puff of breath.
"Interesting," Sela whispered, making her way through a group of drunken mercenaries. "They use orchid smoke to numb senses and loosen tongues. Quite efficient intelligence-gathering methods."
"It's a shame that to us it's nothing more than scented air," Thalassa smiled.
As they ascended the internal spiral staircases, they passed through the client hierarchy: the bustling first floor of solo adventurers; the silver pavilions of the second to fourth floors, where sect elders and minor nobles enjoyed exotic banquets; and the exclusive purple heaven of the fifth to sixth floors, reserved for Sovereigns and Saint Kings seeking private dual alchemy.
Arriving at the seventh-floor antechamber, Sela stopped dead in her tracks. Her divine sense detected a massive spiritual defense formation protecting access to the upper tower. With a look of absolute indifference, she channeled her shadow Qi, wrapped Thalassa in her cloak, and stepped right through the runic barriers without triggering a single alarm, emerging into the final hallway where a single wooden door stood in their path.
Before Sela could reach out to touch the wood, a female voiceâcold, melodic, and laden with unfathomable authorityâechoed directly down the hallway from inside the room:
"My dear uninvited guests... When I felt a slight fluctuation in the lower arrays, I assumed it was a couple of ordinary rats trying to sneak into the tiger's den. But seeing that you've reached my door without triggering the formations... it's evident you two are not normal people, am I wrong?"
Sela pushed the door open without asking permission, and both stepped into the room.
The visual contrast was a violent shock to the senses. After passing through six floors saturated with gold, crimson silk, black crystals, hypnotic music, and smoke, the office of the palace's mastermind was a sanctuary of asceticism and simplicity.
The floor wasn't covered in marble or shiny mosaics; it was made of wide planks of aged spiritual pine wood, polished by use but stripped of expensive varnishes, upon which rested hand-woven natural fiber mats. The walls, in a sober stone-gray and matte white tone, completely lacked tapestries or ostentatious ornaments, displaying only a pair of scrolls with ancient calligraphy in black strokes evoking discipline and silence.
The air in the room was crystalline and fresh, smelling only of freshly boiled green tea, old wood resin, and scroll ink, completely slicing away any trace of the sickly sweet orchid smoke from the lower levels.
In the exact center of the room stood a large, sturdy work desk carved from dark ironwood, with sharp, severe lines. And behind it, sitting with a composed posture, was the owner of the palace: Seraphine Morwenna.
She was a woman of lethal, sophisticated beauty. Her figure was wrapped in a high-collared crimson silk robe hinting at profound martial cultivation, and she possessed an intensely analytical gaze with amethyst irises. She concealed the lower half of her face behind a folding fan made from abyssal crow feathers, moving it with calculated slowness as her eyes evaluated the intruders.
Seraphine kept her breathing steady, but inside, her strategic mind processed the situation at breakneck speed: Who are these two, and how the hell did they bypass the seventh-floor Hawk-Eye formation without triggering the arrays? I can't feel the slightest Qi emission from either of them... it's like looking into two empty abysses.
Without showing her surprise, Seraphine's amethyst eyes locked first onto the figure walking a step behind: Thalassa.
The mastermind of the palace, accustomed to dealing in the most beautiful and sought-after women in the territory, felt an involuntary shiver of martial admiration evaluating her. Thalassa was exceptionally tall, easily surpassing average height, giving her a dominant, majestic physical presence. Her anatomy was the very incarnation of the concept of dangerous desire: she possessed pronounced, powerful curves, with a firm bust holding an oppressive power beneath her abyssal black silk dress, wide warrior hips, and long legs denoting strength capable of crushing bronze.
But what truly set off alarms in Seraphine's head was her skinâa pale, near-spectral white, like frozen porcelain that had never been touched by sunlight, clashing violently against an endless mane of midnight-blue hair that seemed to float in an invisible water current. And her eyes... those cyan irises glowing in the gloom were not human; staring into them was like feeling the vertigo of falling into a bottomless ocean trench. A succubus... a force of pure domination, Seraphine thought.
Then, the amethyst gaze shifted forward, focusing on the woman leading the step: Sela.
Unlike her companion's imposing nature, Sela was significantly shorter and more compact, but her posture conveyed the tension of a cornered feline about to pounce. Her black hair, cut above the nape, left clear a face of sepulchral paleness and a gaze stripped of any human warmth. Her athletic, perfectly proportioned body was sheathed in a one-piece martial suit made of shadow spider silkâa matte black tone so absolute it swallowed the light of the room's candles without generating a single reflection. An incarnate shadow. Her center of gravity is invisible; if she decides to attack, the slice will land before my hand can reach the alarm bell, Seraphine concluded, gripping her fan handle with disguised force.
Breaking the tactical silence, Sela stepped forward without waiting for an invitation, dragged a meditation cushion in front of the ironwood desk, and sat down naturally, crossing her legs.
"Who we are and what our objective isâthat is something that does not concern you nor should it cause you to lose sleep, Lady Morwenna," Sela spoke in a calm voice, preempting the question swimming in the owner's eyes. "The only reason we have taken the trouble to step foot in your office is to deliver a piece of intelligence... an item that, I believe, will be greatly to your liking."
Giving no time for rebuttals, Sela reached into her folds and tossed the purple memory crystal onto the desk documents.
Seraphine slowly lowered her crow feather fan, revealing lips painted crimson pressed into a hard line. Skeptically, she picked up the crystal and injected a thread of her martial Qi.
The projection showed every detail with chilling clarity: the loud, desperate kiss against the pine bark, the barbarian's savage thrust, and the sharp shrieks and moans of illusory pleasure from the Aurelia heir begging for more force as his nails bled digging into the tree wood, rolling in filth and forever losing his status as a noble.
Both Seraphine and Thalassa watched the hologram in silence.
"Wow..." Thalassa whispered, forming a crooked smile of fascination. "The youth in the clan these days turned out quite savage and creative. Shattering the enemy's mind to push them to that level of depravity... they have a very particular sense of aesthetics."
Seraphine cut the Qi flow with a sharp snap, making the image vanish as her breathing accelerated erratically. Her heart pounded wildly against her ribs, and her hand trembled slightly holding the crystal.
As owner of the Palace of a Thousand Pleasures and queen of the underworld, Seraphine understood in a fraction of a second the true, terrifying value of what she held in her hands. By the gods...! If the city lord and the other sects see this... the Aurelia family won't be able to hold their heads up for the next hundred years! They didn't just lose their heir; their bloodline will be stained as a laughingstock and the symbol of ultimate degradation. This isn't a military weapon... it's a social death sentence!
"So... do you accept our little diplomatic gift?" Sela asked, picking up an empty clay teacup from the tray and rolling it idly between her hands.
Regaining her martial composure through pure discipline, Seraphine opened her fan again to hide her face and analyzed the board coldly. As leader of the Morwennas, she knew possessing visual proof of the cowardice, begging, and humiliating death of the Aurelia heir was a weapon of mass destruction. If she leaked those images in teahouses and across every street, her rivals' prestige would crumble; vassal clans would lose respect for the Aurelias, and their commercial authority would take a fatal blow.
"I understand the incalculable value of this piece and the devastating damage I can inflict with it in our cold war," Seraphine said in a calculated voice, fixing her amethyst irises on Sela. "But free charity does not exist in this world. What exactly do you gain by handing this to me? What are you asking in return? And most importantly... do you have any idea of the fallout this will trigger? In case your intelligence network ignores it, the Aurelia family isn't supported only by gold; they have the direct protection of an ancestor settled in the Quasi-Saint King Realm. If that old monster comes out of seclusion seeking blood for his house's humiliation, all of Aethelgard will burn."
Sela set the clay cup down on the wood with a sharp click. Her gaze became as cutting as an ice blade.
"What we want from you is extremely simple, Lady Morwenna: chaos. We want you to use your networks, your auction houses, and your hired mouths to generate the greatest possible disorder, embarrassment, and destabilization upon the Aurelia family over the coming days. If you fulfill that task, not only will you be rewarded with the decline of your rivals, but you will have earned a diplomatic alliance with a force standing far above this small territory."
A brief, dry laugh escaped Sela's lips before she continued, leaning forward:
"And regarding your concern about that 'old monster' in the Quasi-Saint King Realm..." Sela smiled with a disdain so genuine and overwhelming it made the temperature in the office tremble. "If that decrepit old man decides to crawl out of his hole and makes the mistake of getting in our way... Hahaha, well, let's just say life is fleeting for those who do not know the immensity of the sky."
Seraphine felt a cold sweat slide down her spine beneath her silk garments. The disdain with which that woman spoke of a Quasi-Saint King wasn't bravado or an act to intimidate; it was the cold arrogance of a being who considered a cultivator at that level mere trash on the road. Who are these madmen? What kind of hidden superpower or family do they come from to speak like that about a martial king? she wondered, feeling the vertigo of having been dragged into a war of giants.
Swallowing hard to dissolve the lump in her throat, Seraphine closed her fan and nodded solemnly:
"I accept the deal. I will personally handle distributing these copies and unleashing the storm in Aethelgard. However, if I am going to turn my family into the shield of this conflict, I need a real guaranteeâa lifeline. Although we Morwennas are powerful, weathering a frontal assault from the guard and their ancestor without backup is suicide."
"I like your practicality," Sela nodded with satisfaction. "And your concern for survival is very easy to resolve."
With a fluid flick of her sleeve, Sela pulled three distinct items from her spatial ring, placing them onto the polished desk with mathematical precision.
First, she set down a small black iron token embossed with the emblem of a primordial dragon.
"This token is your identification mark. It is proof that you operate under the shadow and backing of our house. I suggest keeping it on your person or in an accessible place; when our disciples or squads walk through this city, they will see the emblem and know you are an untouchable ally."
Second, she placed a dark purple spherical stone, at the center of which throbbed a dense cluster of compressed runic energy humming with imminent danger.
"This is your lifeline. It is a single-use summoning and defense array. I recommend activating it solely as a last resort if the Aurelia family loses their minds and that old Quasi-Saint King tries to assault this palace in person. Crushing it will unleash an absolute defense and immediately notify our powers to descend and clean up the trash. Use it wisely."
Finally, Sela placed a heavy sack embroidered with silver threads onto the wood. Loosening the sealing drawstring, the sack's mouth fell open, revealing its contents.
A wave of spiritual lightâpure, blinding, infinitely dense, and stripped of any mortal impurityâerupted inside the office, making the old pine planks creak under an overwhelming energy pressure.
Seraphine's eyes went wide, losing her composure entirely. She leaped to her feet, planting both hands on the desk as she stared inside the sack in disbelief and trembling:
"This... this is...! Supreme Grade Spiritual Stones?! And there are at least a thousand of them in here!"
The economic impact of seeing a thousand Supreme Grade stones together was paralyzing; it was a fortune capable of funding a sect's war for a decade or pushing a cultivator through a major bottleneck. But as she stared at them, a terrifying revelation hit Seraphine's brain like a lightning bolt. Her intelligence agents had investigated the remains of the two local faction camps mysteriously wiped out in the outskirts weeks ago... and in the scorched craters, they had detected the exact same residual energy signature of supreme stones used in assault arrays!
"You... You are the ones responsible for the destruction of the two forces...!" Seraphine exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger at Sela before she could hold her tongue.
Sela's gaze froze instantly. The killing pressure of the shadow flooded the room, snuffing out the tea candles in the corner.
"Being too smart, analytical, and curious is rarely a long-lived virtue for those who dwell in this world, Lady Morwenna," Sela warned in a whisper cutting like glass. "I recommend focusing your brilliant mind strictly on fulfilling your end of the deal."
Seraphine snapped her mouth shut, feeling an icy chill at the back of her neck, and nodded repeatedly with submissive reverence.
"My... my apologies. I understand the boundaries."
"Perfect. Those thousand supreme grade stones are merely a modest welcome gift," Sela concluded, standing up fluidly. "Use them to consolidate your own martial cultivation or to power your arrays. I believe our meeting is concluded for today; you hold the tools, the resources, and the intelligence in your hands. You will know exactly when and how to move your pieces on Aethelgard's chessboard."
Before Seraphine could ask a single detail about future contact methods, Sela raised her hand. In the exact center of the office, completely bypassing the sealing arrays, the lake's spatial isolation barriers, and the wall's runic formations, a violet and black spatial rift tore open with an imperceptible hiss, revealing the vortex of a dimensional portal.
Seraphine stood paralyzed in place, her breath catching in her throat. A portal opened inside a zone sealed by high-level formations without causing the slightest fluctuation or rejection in the local Qi...! her mind screamed in panic.
"But... how will I get in contact with you when the storm breaks, my lady?" Seraphine managed to ask, pressing the black iron token against her chest with white knuckles.
Sela paused at the threshold of the spatial rift, with Thalassa waiting for her a few steps further inside the gloom of the channel.
"Don't worry about looking for us. When the time is right or we need something from you, we will find you," Sela replied, turning her face with one last shadow smile. "And by the time that day arrives, I expect to see the Aurelia family drowning in their own shame. Until then, Lady Morwenna."
Sela stepped back and merged into the vortex. The spatial rift snapped shut on itself in a blink, vanishing into the air without leaving a single spark of energy behind, as if it had never existed.
Sepulchral silence returned to the seventh-floor office.
Seraphine slumped heavily into her wooden chair, drenched in a cold sweat sticking the crimson silk to her skin. Her breathing was erratic, her hands trembling as she looked back and forth between the memory crystal, the purple defense stone, and the blinding mountain of a thousand supreme spiritual stones glowing upon her work table.
"Good heavens..." she whispered to the empty room, a mix of terror and feral euphoria in her voice. "They are... they are the true hidden titans of this era. The City Lord himself has been deploying spies to discover who is shattering the region's order... and now the very demons knocked on my door and placed a crown in my hands."
With a nervous laugh that broke her facial discipline, Seraphine stored the sack of stones in her ring and stood up, smoothing her robes.
"I have a tremendous amount of work to do tonight... but first, I must speak directly with our family's Ancestor. I just hope the old man doesn't have a heart attack when I show him what we're about to unleash upon the Aurelias."
Two kilometers away from the Palace of a Thousand Pleasures, standing atop the highest dome of an abandoned bell tower in the northern district, the silhouettes of Sela and Thalassa stood out against the moon, swayed by Aethelgard's night wind.
From that elevation, they watched the tiny lights of the barges continuing to arrive at the Morwenna family's lotus lake.
"Do you think it was a prudent decision to hand her all that at once, Sela?" Thalassa asked, twirling a lock of her midnight-blue hair as she looked out at the city skyline. "A thousand supreme stones and a major defense array are resources that could make anyone in this realm arrogant."
"It was absolutely necessary and calculated," Sela replied, crossing her arms with a look of absolute serenity. "As long as we have squads and clan disciples operating on this continent, we need eyes, ears, and a solid diplomatic network to smooth their path and absorb the attention of local factions. Seraphine is ambitious and extraordinarily intelligent; she knows full well that whoever granted her that power can strip it away in a blink if she decides to betray us."
Sela looked away from the city and tore open a new runic portal in the night air, connecting directly to the coordinates of the Morningstar clan's mini-world.
"For now, our fieldwork is concluded," Sela said, gesturing toward the glowing rift. "Let's head home and enjoy the show from our box seats. Over the coming days, Aethelgard is going to be the stage for a very entertaining theater."
Thalassa smiled maliciously, nodded, and both women stepped into the portal, leaving the southern metropolis's sky behind just as the first alarms and whispers of scandal began to ignite in the dark alleys.
Note from Void_Scribe: đ
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