In a dark, spacious chamber lit only by the wavering glow of candles, rows of hooded figures stood in perfect formation. The space resembled an audience hall, its high ceiling and stone pillars lending it a regal air—yet there was something far more unsettling beneath the surface. The walls were marked with faint, ancient symbols, and in the dim light, dark stains on the floor hinted at old sacrifices. It was a place where power was addressed like royalty… and where blood had likely been spilled in equal measure.
In this chamber stood several figures clad in hooded robes, their presence shrouded in mystery. From their posture alone, it was clear they awaited someone of great importance.
Not a single sound escaped them—not even the faintest breath dared disturb the stillness.
Step… step… step…—as if answering their silent anticipation.
The sound of boots echoed through the cold stone hall until a figure emerged from the shadows. His beauty could rival even the elves, those paragons of elegance. Silken strands of silver hair cascaded to his waist, framing eyes as sharp and blue as winter ice. Every movement carried an effortless grace, his black robe hugging his form in a way that deepened the air of mystery—and hinted at the danger—that clung to him.
Moving with unhurried steps, he made his way toward the seat—no, the throne—that stood at the center of the chamber. The robed figures swallowed dryly, their eyes fixed on him as his back turned toward them.
He paused before the throne, letting the silence stretch, then lowered himself into the seat.
Immediately, every person in the room dropped to one knee in perfect unison.
The man said nothing at first. He simply rested his chin on his fist, his cold blue eyes scanning the kneeling crowd with an expression of faint boredom.
The air in the room grew heavier, yet nobody dared to make a sound. The man seated before them was so intimidating that none even dared to meet his gaze.
"You may rise," he ordered.
At his command, they stood in perfect unison.
His gaze shifted.
"Spider, has everything gone according to plan in the north?" he asked, tilting his chin slightly.
The man called Spider stepped forward and bowed his head.
"Yes, my lord. The planning is going smoothly."
"Hmm… make sure everything proceeds without incident," the leader murmured.
"Yes, my lord. I will see to it," Spider replied, his tone unchanged, before silently stepping back.
The leader's attention moved again.
"Scorpion, how are the preparations for the ritual in the south?"
Heeding his call, an old man with a slightly bent back slowly stepped forward from the line. His movements were deliberate, each step echoing faintly in the tense silence, as though even the air parted reluctantly to make way for him.
"The preparations are proceeding well, my lord. Our objectives will be achieved today."
"Good. We have remained hidden since the birth of this organization, and we will continue to do so for as long as necessary. Maintain secrecy at all costs," he said in a plain, measured voice.
"Yes, my lord," Scorpion replied.
"And do not participate in the summoning ritual today," the leader said, his voice calm yet edged with authority. "If even one of the Seven Scions takes part in the events that will unfold over the next five years, our existence may be exposed. Use only sacrificial pawns for this. Nothing more."
Scorpion bowed slightly, then hesitated. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"My lord… if you don't mind me asking, may I pose a question?" he asked, hasitation evident in his eyes.
The leader's gaze flicked to him.
"You may."
Scorpion swallowed.
"Thank you, my lord. I only meant… is the prediction truly that accurate? We have surveyed that area for over a month. It's a small, insignificant village. There should be no risk if I attend personally. Is there truly a need for such… extreme caution?"
The leader's lips curved—not in warmth, but into a smile so cold it felt like a blade against the skin.
"Scorpion… it seems my generosity has grown to the point where you believe you can question my orders?"
Scorpion's eyes widened.
"No, no, my lord, I was only—"
"Silence." The single word cut him off like a guillotine. The leader leaned forward slightly. "You lack the qualifications to question either my authority… or my predictions. Do you understand?"
The air itself seemed to thicken. Scorpion's breath caught in his throat as an overwhelming pressure crashed down on him. It wasn't just killing intent—it was suffocating, primal malice, the kind that crushed the will to resist.
"Y… yes… my lord…" he forced out, collapsing to his knees. Sweat poured down his back in rivers.
What is this…? Even at Fifth Severance, I can't move a single muscle… His eyes darted around the chamber in desperation. Worse yet… no one else feels anything at all. Is this… materialized intent? Is he even human?
The old man somehow managed to steady himself, forcing his trembling legs to straighten. He bowed deeply to the leader before retreating back into line.
The leader's gaze swept the room once more, his voice cutting through the still air as he asked a few more questions regarding the critical mission they had been assigned. Each answer came in a solemn, measured tone, the details laid out with precision, for none dared to waste his time with hesitation.
What felt like an hour passed before the leader finally rose from his seat.
"All Scions will remain, as will the executives. You are not to move without my permission. Is that understood?" His voice carried no room for argument.
"Understood," they replied in perfect unison, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls.
Seemingly satisfied, the leader turned his back to them and began walking toward the same passage from which he had entered.
Once he was gone, the others took it as their cue to leave. In moments, the chamber was empty—silent, dark, and lifeless. It stood as if nothing had ever happened there, an abyss that had swallowed every trace of the gathering.
****
I opened my eyes slowly. I was in my bed, sitting cross-legged, cultivating. Ever since I obtained a high-grade mana core, my daily cultivation had been showing noticeable improvements.
Stretching my hands, I glanced at the clock—it was eight at night. Hmm, more time to go.
I got off the bed, went into the bathroom, and washed up.
Taking a bath was always satisfying. After drying my hair, I put on fresh clothes and began thinking about what I should do if I were to be discovered. I had made ample preparations, but if that happened… I would simply run.
If I combined the second step of the Footless Steps—Acceleration—with the first step, Stealth, I might be able to escape safely. But the price would be steep: my legs wouldn't move for at least a month afterward.
Sigh… it's really difficult to use the Footless Steps—such an advanced technique—with this rotten body.
Creek.
While I was lost in thoughts about this and that, the door to my room opened with a soft creak, and Charlotte appeared.
"Hmm? Why are you here?" I asked with a hum. It wasn't even dinner time yet, and here she was.
"Do I need a particular reason to come to this room?" she replied, brows furrowing as if the question itself was absurd.
"No, you don't," I said, "but at least try to come with some reason if nothing else." Even as I spoke, I found myself wondering how many times she came and went like this in a day.
"Huh? Alright, I'll remember to follow your instructions, my lord." She gave an exaggerated bow and answered in a sarcastic tone.
Sigh… she's impossible to reason with. "Is dinner ready?" I asked.
"Yes, it is, my lord." She still spoke in that same mocking way.
"You won't grow up, will you?" I said, half in frustration. "You should concentrate on your work, study hard like a student your age. Why do you always roam around all the time?"
I had scolded her about this countless times. She couldn't become a martial artist or a mage because of her low-grade mana core, so I wanted her to at least focus on her studies. But Charlotte's eccentric nature meant she never truly concentrated on them. Yet, her capacity for memorizing things could leave even the greatest of scholars in the dust.
After a few more exchanges that felt more like verbal fencing than an actual conversation, I realized I wasn't going to win. Every retort I gave was deflected with ease, as if she had an endless supply of sarcasm hidden in her pocket. Finally, I exhaled in defeat and waved my hand.
"Alright, prepare the dinner. We'll eat early today."
"Yes, my lord," she replied, drawing out the words just enough to make them sound like a mockery. Her lips curved into the faintest of smirks, and I caught the glint of amusement in her eyes before she turned to leave.
I decided not to take the bait this time. Responding would only give her more fuel. So, I simply leaned back in my chair, watching her go, the sound of her fading footsteps echoing faintly down the corridor.
Dinner came sooner than expected. The aroma of freshly cooked dishes wafted into the room, carrying with it a comforting warmth that made my stomach growl in quiet surrender. She brought in the trays with a smug sort of grace, clearly pleased with herself for having gotten the last word earlier. I ignored it, focusing instead on the meal.
We ate in relative silence—well, silence from me. She still found ways to toss in little remarks, her tone teetering between playful and insufferable. I endured them with the patience of a monk, telling myself that feeding her attitude with attention was far worse than just letting it slide.
When the plates were cleared and she was finally sent away, the room seemed quieter than it had all day. I sat there for a moment, letting the stillness settle, before making my way to the bed.
It wasn't late yet, but the pull of drowsiness crept in the moment I lay down. The mattress sank slightly under my weight, and I allowed my body to melt into its softness. Closing my eyes, I thought, It wouldn't hurt to sleep for a while… The last echoes of Charlotte's voice lingered faintly in my mind, but they faded quickly, replaced by the slow, steady rhythm of my own breathing.