“Anything?” Ilvere asked upon seeing Tamira entering the conference room.

“Still nothing. Our liaison said the council is still investigating ‘our claim.’ None of our independent sources are reporting any movements or secret preparations, either.”

“Useless!” Little Bolt slammed his hand onto the table in anger. “We bring word that the Kan’Tanu’s leader is dead and a recording of a second Chapter being razed to the ground. And they do nothing?! Does Lord Atwood have to bring the whole cult to their knees before they get their act together?”

“It’s not only that,” Tamira sighed. “We’ve received multiple reports of World Lords and chapter elites appearing on battlefronts throughout the sector. They’re pushing hard.”

“Rats abandoning a sinking ship,” Ilvere spat. “It’s been almost a day since the Chapter of the Broken God fell. News of the Eternal Guardians should have spread among the Kan’Tanu elites by now. I bet the smart ones are spending all their Faction Merit to escape through the battlefronts.”

“Did Lord Atwood say if the giants would continue to Zecia after wrapping things up in Zurbor?” Carva asked.

“I don’t know much beyond the report and orders I’ve already relayed.” Mark Marshal shook his head. “But I Doubt it. From what I understood from our brief exchange, Lord Atwood was limited to imparting a very simple set of orders. Kill the Foreign Gods and then wreak havoc on Zurbor. They can’t think for themselves beyond that. I assume they’ll stop or try to return after they can’t find any more targets within range.”

“And how far is that?” Ilvere asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Mark said. “At least it looked like they should have sensed the other chapters. I’m assuming that’s why they crushed all those stars to build a road, ignoring the whole continent and its citizens.”

Ilvere shuddered, still barely able to believe what he’d been shown an hour ago. The twin Emperors and his sealbearers had been tightlipped about the purpose of their mission, only divulging it could change the course of the war. Wasn’t that the understatement of the century? Ilvere had seen one punch annihilate four Monarchs, leaving nothing behind. Another had killed the Chapter Master and torn apart the devilish god he’d conjured with a Grand Array.

The battle between the two giants and the Kan’Tanu Chapter lasted less than five minutes. The Eternal Guardians had imposed a spatial lockdown with raw physical strength and punched away until only a crater remained. There was no discussion and no mercy. The moment they were done, they left for the next target, nary a mark on their bodies.

Mark Marshall was lucky to be standing there. The ship he manned had been clipped twice by errant energies during the lockdown but narrowly avoided a direct hit. He’d used the power vacuum to pilot the damaged ship to the nearest active battlefront. They’d made short work of the local World Lord with a salvo of orbital bombardment, and the Zecian combatants had been more than happy to provide passage home in exchange for the Cosmic Vessel.

“Orders aside, there’s also the issue of energy,” Boje said. “I can’t imagine the amount of energy required to teleport a planet-sized puppet between sectors. The distance is perhaps millions of times greater than their previous jump. You should understand the costs involved from seeing how the established factions are only sending away their best and brightest.”

The mere mention made Ilvere’s blood boil. Their Lord’s secret mission had worked even better than expected, delivering a devastating blow to the Kan’Tanu. Who knew? Even more chapters might have been dismantled by now. And what did the Alliance leaders do with the opportunity brought from the Atwood Empire’s elites risking their lives? Nothing.

The Dao Reserves of half the Alliance members had already escaped, including the Dravorak Dynasty and Allbright Clan. The situation was even worse in Zecia’s Mercantile alliance, which had more or less caused a logistical collapse. These weakwilled bastards had emptied their treasuries and made off like bandits in the night.

The Atwood Empire would have remained ignorant of the betrayal, like most of Zecia, if not for their Lord’s wide network. Even now, the Alliance outwardly acted like nothing had changed, calling for unity and to endure. They were using the lives of the less fortunate to cover their escape, to buy more time to extract Zecia’s riches.

“Perhaps they’ll return now that there’s been a change,” Ciru Volor said. “The pope is dead, at least two chapters are eradicated, and most won’t be able to afford the battlefront passage fees. With such limited strength, they won’t be able to conquer the whole sector. I expect they’ll find themselves in a similar situation as the Kavriel Province of before.”

“Return? Why would they? To rule over the rubble? To fight a drawn-out sector war against the Kan’Tanu who made it across?” Brazla laughed. “The trial was their opportunity to interact with organizations that wouldn’t normally give them the time of the day. Those Monarchs would rather be coolies of these B-grade factions than deal with this headache.”

“He’s right. There’s little benefit to staying now that the System is wrapping things up. At best, they’ll leave a few more powerhouses behind to maintain a resource channel,” Ilvere said.

Anyone with eyes had seen which way the wind blew for a while. The added notices that appeared in the Merit Exchange a few days back were simply the final nail in the coffin. Merit would no longer be awarded starting in one month, and all ongoing designation quests would have to be finished within three to reap their rewards.

The Ruthless Heavens was done with the war. There was still a chance it would start the next round, but Ilvere doubted it. Every cultivator alive could feel it. It was like the Heavens had turned its back on the whole sector, and the Dao was growing more distant by the day. Boje believed it was the Ruthless Heaven reprioritizing its resources as a result of their loss, and Ilvere tended to agree. seaʀᴄh thё NôᴠeFire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Ilvere wanted to scream at the Heavens at the injustice of it all. They’d fought, they’d bled, they’d triumphed. Their Lord had achieved the impossible twice over. Yet the river of fate kept dragging them toward ruin.

No, Ilvere refused to give up on the home they’d built. And it wasn’t necessarily over for the Atwood Empire. There was a critical piece of information that let Ilvere hold on. There was no mention of the Limited Exchange closing. On the contrary, the notice said there’d be a final update of its offerings when the war ended. One of those offerings should be a way out, and they had more than enough Faction Merit to spare.

“We can’t pin all our hopes on those two giants. Nor can we put our faith in Zecia. We can only rely on ourselves,” Ilvere said, gathering his thoughts. “I vote for closing all but one battlefront to conserve our strength.”

“You want to turtle up?” Brazla said, ignoring the annoyed glance from Ciru Volor.

“No, the opposite,” Ilvere said. “Emperor Atwood told us to follow our judgment when it comes to our expansion plans. Let’s begin immediately.”

“Quartermaster, are you proposing we upgrade our world again?” Rhubat said, leaning forward with interest.

“Yes,” Ilvere nodded. “Not only that, but I think we should buy at least a dozen feeder worlds. We have well over a hundred million Faction Merit thanks to the Emperors. We should use some of it before the update to be on the safe side.”

“If we go ahead, may I suggest recruiting more locals?” Little Bolt said. “People are getting more desperate by the day, and even the commoners are starting to realize something is wrong. It’s not just wandering cultivators that are approaching us any longer. There are whole clans hoping to relocate to escape the Kan’Tanu.”

“Bringing some outside help could be useful if we plan on expanding our number of worlds. We need the help, and it could be considered a test,” Alyn said. “It’s also an opportunity to gain heritages in areas where we’re lacking.”

Almost everyone in the room agreed on the general direction. There was no telling how circumstances would change now that the mysterious opportunity that had attracted the outsiders had been pushed forward. They needed to take the opportunity to shore up their strengths and foundations before it was too late. If nothing else, upgrading Earth to Late D-grade was a global opportunity for their people to advance.

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There were some disagreements as to how much should be spent before the update and how quickly they should move. The group debated each point, gradually moving toward a consensus until their meeting was interrupted.

“What’s this? Why do we have to hear in passing that members of the expedition have returned?”

Ilvere frowned as Petrus and Serzo barged into the room, his headache turning into surprise upon seeing a similar shimmer around Petrus as Rhubat. The grizzly military advisor was a sealbearer? How was that possible? His aura was clearly… young? Since when was his energy so vibrant?

‘Quartermaster, activate the array.’

‘You—’

‘He’s a subordinate of the betrayer.’

Ilvere gritted his teeth and followed Rhubat’s order. Thousands of previously hidden runes on the walls, floor, and ceiling lit up before the two newcomers could react, rendering them immobile. Rhubat was already on his feet, a small spear radiating brutality and righteousness in his hand.

“I worried the Heavens had abandoned me when I couldn’t join Warmaster’s mission. That it had abandoned the Zhix. I see now I had to stay behind for a reason,” Rhubat said, stopping before Petrus. “The answer I seek can be found right on our soil.”

A wave of deadly destruction suddenly erupted from within Petrus, pushing the carefully arranged defenses to their limits. However, the shockwave suddenly collapsed on itself, exposing the scene within. Rhubat’s spear had already pierced Petrus’ forehead, and death was expelled through the numerous throughout his body by faith and Killing Intent.

“Why?” Serzo calmly looked on as Petrus lifelessly slumped to the ground. “Your actions will trigger a war.”

“Trigger a War? Too late for that,” Ilvere scoffed and threw over an Information Crystal. He effortlessly caught it, no longer restrained by the damaged array. “Read for yourself.”

Serzo drew a sharp breath moments later. “This is impossible! Autarchs breaking into Zurbor, civil war in the Heartlands? Kator betrayed us and is dead?”

“I guess the maintained radio silence makes sense now,” Ilvere shrugged. “Anyway. Our boss knows to separate grudges and gratitude. He mentioned receiving help from your mistress, so we’ll treat you fairly. Only…”

“Only what?” Serzo said.

“How do we know you’re still with the Draugr and not another of that skeleton’s spies?”

Serzo didn’t move for a few seconds before sighing. “I’ll give you a list of all known and suspected operatives.”

“Good,” Rhubat said, his aura rippling with purpose. “We’ll begin with the purge of spies and continue onto the new worlds. There shall be no lingering threats when the Heavens call me away.”

Ilvere inwardly sighed. He said nothing to refute the Zhix despite knowing the kind of storm they’d kick up. Rivers of blood would flow by the time they were done. So be it. Ilvere had no problems with getting his hands dirty to protect what was his. Especially now that he had something greater to fight for.

Home.

————–

The sonorous chants brought forth years of memories, and the voices melded into a cage that cut off all avenues of escape. Resisting felt like a rejection of the universe, a denunciation of the natural order. Invisible swirls of Dao and Dharma tried to hold her in place and accept the inevitable. She wouldn’t let it.

Thea had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, knowing there’d be a heavy price to pay. Fighting back against the Sangha only left you more entangled in their Karmic web, where grudges and blood would bring you back to their doorstep. However, she hadn’t felt as certain about anything since saving those children from Onadar before this sordid affair started.

Discard the self to become one with the sword. Cut through all distractions. The chants fell on deaf ears as Thea entered a marvelous state; the gleaming edge cared nothing about merit or benevolence. It only had one purpose: to cut.

The swing was slow and deliberate, giving no indication it posed a threat to the nun standing more than fifty meters away. It barely emitted any energy until it was time to strike. Like the sharp edge suddenly drawn from its sheath, a murderous energy condensed into singular sharpness.

“No!”

The nun’s clarity came too late. The chants were cut, as were the Karmic bonds trying to impose their will. Nothing survived the bright radiance of the half-moon that was born and faded in the blink of an eye. The world briefly stayed locked in stillness before reality caught up. The hands held in a mudra fell to the ground, followed by dozens of pieces of cleanly dissected flesh. While invisible to the eye, even the nun’s soul had been cut into cubic pieces, quashing any chance of survival.

The sword in Thea’s hand remained steady as a mountain after displaying its true essence. No frills, no pomp. Speed, sharpness, and singular devotion were Thea’s conception of the Dao of the Sword and her path. It was the first lesson Irei taught her and a fundamental truth she saw clearer every day.

Thea’s legs didn’t share her Dao’s indomitable conviction, and she slumped onto the ground. The battle was short, but she’d been running for a day. More importantly, she’d poured everything into that swing. Her heart, her beliefs, and her intent. What remained felt hollow and incomplete.

A deep sigh stopped Thea from catching her breath. She followed the sound, and anger replaced the emptiness in her heart. It was Amanthi who stood nearby, looking at the fallen nun with sorrow in his eyes. Scanning the perimeter, Thea saw no one else from the Sangha, though that didn’t make much of a difference.

Thea had narrowed the gap through ceaseless effort on the battlefield and collecting two pieces of her seal, but the gap was undeniably still there. There was a chance she could eke out a victory against Amanthi if she were in perfect condition. There was no hope in her current state. Thankfully, her escape skill was almost off cooldown, so she only needed to stall for a minute or two.

It was just as well, as she had more than a few questions she needed to get out.

“How could you?” Thea said, her eyes stinging from barely held-back tears. “All those evils, and for what? Just to undo everything that Zac has tried to accomplish? To quash the hope we’ve all fought for?”

Thea was still reeling from the revelation of what she’d been unknowingly complicit to over the past years. She’d almost formed a Heart Demon from the pent-up frustration of seeing Zecia flounder so badly during the war. That feeling had become unbearable after Zac managed to demolish a whole Chapter of the Kan’Tanu and cause utter mayhem in their ranks. He’d flipped the entire table, no doubt after overcoming insurmountable odds.

And nothing changed.

That was by design, it turned out. For years, the Sangha had traveled across Zecia, arbitrarily saving some while abandoning others. Only it wasn’t random. They’d been nudging the fate of the whole sector with surgical precision. A butterfly flapped its wings, and a hurricane appeared on another world.

Thea wasn’t blind. She’d known these smiling monks weren’t altruists and that their every action held a deeper meaning. But she’d thought their inscrutable actions were designed to uncover more seals. To learn it was all to push Zecia toward a point of no return was almost too much to bear. Hearing how far they’d gone, especially over the past month, was shocking.

They’d sent out Teleportation Tokens and Nexus Coins like they were candy, getting the ball rolling on the exodus currently taking place. And for every Monarch accepting, two more would follow. Who’d stay behind and fight to the death after seeing their peers run for the hills? Of course, there were many warriors ready to fight to the bitter end, but the Sangha had a remedy for them, too. Genocide.

Nothing was off the table, from inciting conflicts between Zecian neighbors to obscuring the advance of Kan’Tanu units until it was too late. When such circumspect methods didn’t work, they’d resorted to direct assassination of key figures. Thea had no idea of how many of Zecia’s champions had fallen already. No one did; who were more skilled at erasing their tracks than these demonic monks?

Thea would have remained ignorant to it all, happily preparing for the upcoming trial, if Everlasting Peace hadn’t found his conscience at the eleventh hour. He’d divulged the truth and helped her escape the Sangha’s ever-watching eyes. Except it didn’t last for long. First Still Veneration and now Amanthi.

Perhaps that was what hurt the most. Amanthi knew. He’d known all along, in contrast to Everlasting Peace, who’d only uncovered the whole truth a few weeks before her. Thea had seen Amanthi as a mentor and friend, an anchor of reason and stability when surrounded by the acolytes’ insufferably fake congeniality.

“Evil… I’m sure we appear that way to you. And perhaps you’re right,” Amanthi sighed.

“Then why—”

“Would you take an innocent life to save one hundred? To save a million?” the Dharmic Guardian asked. “That’s what we’re doing. That’s The Sangha’s mission. We’ll bear the sorrows of the world to ensure the Cosmos moves in the right direction. For the sake of all creation.”

Thea sneered. She’d spent enough time listening to the Sangha’s self-serving bullshit to know there was no point in arguing.

“Believe what you will. Zecia has become a lynchpin in the river of destiny,” Amanthi said, looking up at the night sky. “Its fate will have ramifications that stretch to every corner of the Multiverse. Zecia must fall so that the Heavens can rise.”

The confirmation hurt more than she’d thought. Perhaps she’d still held onto hope for something more. Some explanation that would mitigate their actions, or rather her own actions. With all hope lost, she was left with a venomous tranquility. Thea steadied herself, raising her sword toward her former companion. “Are you going to stop me?”

“You misunderstand,” Amanthi said after a brief pause. “No one has given an order to bring you back. Still Veneration acted on her own accord, I think you can guess why.”

Thea snorted, glancing at the Soultaker Seal emerging from the corpse. No wonder that bitch had always stayed close by on the battlefield. She’d been ready to snatch the pieces she were missing.

The arhat threw out a shimmering dust on the body, and it disintegrated into streaks of Sanskrit that rose toward the sky. After a quick prayer, Amanthi conjured a golden shroud.

“I hope to see you again. And that time can heal the wounds we’ve caused,” Amanthi said with a sorrowful smile as he stepped into the Dharma. “Peace be with you.”

Thea spat before flashing toward the seal. There would be no peace before she’d righted this wrong. Not for her, not for Earth.