With a simple wave of his hand, Raiking generated a subtle distortion in the air, crafting an impeccable sound barrier to ensure their conversation remained private.
"There is a True Divinity assassin nearby," he announced directly.
Wenya was startled. It wasn't the existence of an assassin that caught her off guard—there had been prior threats against the Queen's life. Considering Libinea's impressive display of power that evening, it was anticipated that enemies might see her as an emerging Demigod threat.
What truly unsettled Wenya was the assassin's level of cultivation.
True Divinity cultivators were exceptionally rare; they were often generals, leaders, and monarchs. For one to act as an assassin suggested that the person orchestrating this had reached the Demigod stage. Within the world of the Phoenix Tribe, only two opponents held such power: the Earth Dragon King and the Demon King.
"We need to alert the others," Wenya urged, her eyes drifting towards the war table where the Chieftains were still engaged in fervent discussion.
"No."
"No?"
"We will turn the assassin to our advantage," Raiking responded, his void-black eyes steady and unyielding.
Wenya recalled his cryptic comments about 'rewards' and 'rabid dogs' from earlier, as the chilling pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her mind.
"Are you suggesting... allowing them to attack?"
Raiking nodded slowly. "You are astute, Elder. I'm confident you understand the necessary actions to cement Libinea's absolute authority."
Wenya remained silent, her stomach churning at the cold logic of the plan. "Is there truly no other way to unite them?"
Raiking shifted his gaze to the four Chieftains. "Have you considered what might occur when one of them inevitably informs the Dragon King of tonight's events, seeking favor or clemency?"
"They would never betray their kin!" Wenya protested vehemently, though a flicker of doubt lingered in her heart.
"When someone believes they are the hero of their own story, they do not view it as betrayal," Raiking corrected smoothly. "They see it as saving the tribe from a reckless, taboo-breaking Queen."
Wenya was silent. The logic in his words was undeniable. Betrayal often stemmed not from malice, but from desperation, from the mistaken belief that one knew best for survival.
Yet, as she looked at the man clad in black, Wenya couldn't ignore the stark irony. She gazed past him, her eyes resting on her adopted daughter.
"Aren't you doing the same thing to her right now?" Wenya asked softly. "Manipulating the situation because you believe you know what's best?"
"Do not mistake me for a mortal, Elder," Raiking replied, his tone chillingly even. "I possess the power to ensure your tribe only ever experiences peace. Can the same be said for them?" He gestured slightly towards the four quarrelling leaders.
"Is that all mortals will ever be?" Wenya asked bitterly. "Pawns at the whims of gods?"
"What difference will answering that question make?" Raiking countered.
In that moment, staring into the abyss of his eyes, Wenya wasn't sure whether entrusting her Queen to such a calculating being was truly salvation, or merely a different form of imprisonment.
"I must speak to Libinea first," Wenya resolved, her voice trembling but determined.
"Very well. You have until sunrise."
Raiking waved his hand again, and the invisible sound barrier vanished. In the same breath, he and Ezmelral disappeared into the shadows, teleporting out of the Main Hall without leaving a trace, leaving the Elder alone with a harrowing decision.
---
[Location - A Cliff at the Edge of the Skyward Region]
Morgal sat perched at the cliff's edge, her legs swinging playfully over the daunting void below. The Void's Will surrounded her like a protective, dark, jagged energy.
"So, the Phoenix Tribe harbors a True Divinity," Morgal reflected, a devilish yet strangely charming smile gracing her lips. "It seems that accepting this contract was indeed worthwhile—"
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
A presence had appeared behind her.
Without delay, she teleported to confront the threat, her small fist poised with deadly precision.
BOOM!
Her fist collided with the flat of Ezmelral's blade. A violent clash of Void energy and sharp sword intent erupted, scattering the loose rocks around them.
Ezmelral deftly redirected the force, executing a vertical slash. Though the Spirit Sword's parry lacked raw power, it sufficed to send Morgal sliding backward across the dirt.
Morgal hissed, conjuring twin daggers of pure Void energy. As she prepared to launch herself at Ezmelral, a voice resounded—not in the air, but within her very soul.
"Kneel."
In an instant, Morgal fell to her knees. She gritted her teeth, struggling desperately to reclaim control over her body, yet she remained immobile. The sheer authority of the command bypassed her cultivation entirely.
"What have you done to me?!" she screamed.
Raiking offered no response. He stepped from the shadows, closing the gap until he stood within arm's reach. As their eyes met, Morgal found herself staring into his deep, endless black irises. A terrifying, instinctual recognition overtook her.
"Y-you're a Void Being?!"
"You have two choices," Raiking stated. He raised his left hand, revealing four glowing portraits floating above his palm—the faces of the four Phoenix Tribe Leaders. "Live. Or die."
As he spoke the final word, Raiking extended his right hand, thrusting it into her aura.
He began to forcibly extract the Void's Will from Morgal. Both host and parasite emitted a unified, demonic scream as the dark energy was violently torn from her core.
Morgal slumped forward, gasping for air. Never in her millennium of existence had she felt such powerlessness. Not only had she lost her True Divinity, but she also lacked control over her own body. The irony was bitter; she was usually the one manipulating others, reducing them to her lifeless puppets.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she whimpered.
Her voice softened, rising to a youthful, innocent tremor. Her expression shed all malice, leaving only the wide, tear-filled eyes of a mistreated, frightened child.
Raiking remained unmoved.
He simply smiled, disregarding her completely as he concentrated on the swirling, purple-black orb of the Void's Will hovering just above his right palm.
His eyes, as dark as a void, widened ever so slightly as his consciousness penetrated the core of the parasite, unraveling a millennium of shared memories in an instant. Through the perspective of the Void's Will, Raiking observed the overwhelming destruction Morgal had inflicted upon the mortal world each time she managed to bypass the Boundary Lake.
He envisioned her amidst the devastation of burning sects, her small, bloodstained hands gripping the desiccated remains of grandmasters who had fatally underestimated a 'lost child.' He watched as she drained their lifetimes of cultivation, incrementally enhancing her True Divinity with each stolen essence.
Even more striking was Raiking's insight into the shrewd, calculated strategy behind her current alliances. Her association with the Demon Region's Silent Blade Clan wasn't out of obedience, nor did she harbor genuine loyalty to Grandmaster Vex or the Demon King. Her allegiance was purely strategic; the Demon Region offered an ideal political shield. With their formidable support, she could function as a top-tier assassin, eliminating targets and absorbing mortal cultivation without provoking the collective vengeance of the human empires.
She, too, was a parasite dwelling within the shadow of a larger entity. It was a system of ruthless, flawless efficiency.
"I see you've chosen an exceptional Vessel this time," Raiking muttered to the orb.
Morgal remained frozen on her knees, utterly speechless as she watched Raiking easily dominate the Void's Will. Ezmelral, however, was completely unfazed. Being fully aware of her Master's true connection to the Void Realm, her attention was directed elsewhere.
"What did you see?" Ezmelral inquired, observing the slight change in his void-black eyes as he examined the orb.
"Do you recall the assassins who attempted to ambush us on our journey here?" Raiking asked.
"The twelve masked men?"
"They were dispatched by the Silent Blade Clan."
Morgal flinched, overwhelmed by another wave of disbelief. How had he uncovered the deepest secrets of her clandestine faction with just a glance? To the 1,000-year-old assassin, he was an omniscient nightmare. To Ezmelral, it was just another ordinary day.
"The Demon King remains as persistent as ever," Ezmelral mused, resting a hand on her hip.
"It wasn't him who issued the contract," Raiking corrected.
"Oh? Who else would be so foolish?"
"Dawnfall."
Ezmelral raised a delicate eyebrow. She vividly remembered how the Dawnfall Region had boldly marched their human armies to attack the Guild, only to be completely decimated by the Storm Dragon before they even reached the front gates.
"It seems the Human King has not yet learned his lesson," Ezmelral sighed, shaking her head at such audacity.
"We can worry about Dawnfall later," Raiking said. He finally shifted his cold, oppressive gaze back down to the trembling Void Being at his feet. "Right now, we need to ensure she is capable of executing our plan flawlessly."
The moment Morgal's eyes met Raiking's—a gaze that seemed to pierce directly into her mind, knowing exactly what she had been plotting in silence—she instantly dropped the cowardly act.
While the initial shock of Raiking dominating the Void's Will had left her genuinely speechless, her survival instincts—honed over a millennium of slaughter—had long since taken over. She had been listening, observing, waiting for the perfect opportunity to regain control of the situation.
But as she heard their conversation, casually dismissing entire human armies, she began to realize that these two beings were far from the simple targets her contract had initially suggested. So, she chose the only path her years of experience had taught her.
Morgal straightened her face, the feigned innocence vanishing from her features, leaving only the cold, calculating gaze of a seasoned killer.
"I choose to live."