Chapter 335: Chapter 334 - The Sisters.
The violet torch flickered against the balcony’s black stone, its light stretching their shadows across the floor like crooked, living things.
For a time, only the distant sound of feasting filled the silence between the two women.
Then Lena’s golden eyes narrowed as if a thought had just struck her, recalling Zerathia’s words.
Her voice slipped through the quiet, sharp and sudden.
"...This little friend of yours," she said carefully, "is it the human he spoke of? The one he asked you to help?"
Zarethia didn’t answer.
Instead, she turned her head, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.
"Lena," she murmured, violet eyes gleaming with playful reproach, "you’re speaking all proper again. ’Lady Zarethia’ this, ’Mistress’ that. Didn’t I tell you not to bother with titles—at least when we’re alone?"
Lena’s eyes narrowed, as if surveying the surroundings. For a moment, she said nothing, then released a quiet sigh.
When she spoke again, her tone softened into something more natural.
"...Fine. Sister," she said at last, the word carrying reluctant warmth. "Will you answer me or not?"
Zarethia’s smile widened, but she didn’t meet her sister’s gaze.
Instead, she looked up toward the endless twilight ceiling above the castle, eyes shimmering like two fragments of amethyst night.
"Yes," she said softly. "My little friend is the human he spoke of."
Lena groaned, her shoulders sinking as she rubbed her forehead. "Sister... must you listen to every ridiculous thing that old man says?"
Zarethia let out a small, airy sigh, as though the very mention of the man carried a weight of memories. "You’ll come to trust him eventually. He was Father’s most trusted adviser, after all—the last sovereign never gave his faith lightly."
"Yet Father still died," Lena snapped, a low growl threading her words.
"That was his choice," Zarethia countered calmly.
"No," Lena cut in, her voice suddenly hard. "That was what the old man said. Maybe he’s just covering his own incompetence."
Zarethia went quiet, the playful curve of her lips fading to something unreadable. At length, she murmured, "He has the power to see the future."
Lena’s teeth ground audibly. "Do you truly believe that? Yes, his words seem to come true, but any clever enough trickster can weave fate out of lies."
"You’re far too suspicious," Zarethia said, shaking her head with a soft laugh.
"In times like these, suspicion is survival," Lena shot back. Her eyes hardened. "And what? Do you honestly think a human from that wasteland could ever help us like that old man said?"
Mistress didn’t reply and merely smiled, shrugging, as if that said everything.
If it were someone else, then maybe it wouldn’t mean anything, but Lena understood what that shrug meant.
After all, they were sisters, and they had had no one but themselves since childhood.
Lena could tell what a single twitch from Zarethia meant.
"You can’t be serious!" Lena’s eyes went wide, her voice filled with disbelief. "That place can’t even produce someone past the tenth level. Those cursed lands choke any talent before it blooms. If you’d said that it was someone from the Empire, perhaps I’d believe you. But a child—barely twenty—from that barren soil? Impossible."
Zarethia couldn’t refute those words.
She knew that every word Lena said was true, and since the black dragon incident, the land of the four kingdom alliance, which used to be strong enough to contend with the bordering forces, had turned into a husk.
No one could reach past the tenth level while cultivating the mana corrupted from the black dragon’s death.
However, Zarethia knew something Lena didn’t, and that was that Raven and his group were different.
No, Raven was different—so much so that no matter who it was, as soon as they came in contact with him, their fates changed.
Unlike Lena, Zarethia had seen Raven and his group grow, and the speed of their growth had shocked even her, one of the greatest geniuses of the demon realm.
After all, in just a month, he went from plate four to plate eight, which was impossible for even the dragons.
Lena’s voice, on the other hand, dropped by a degree as she continued. "Those people can’t help us. Even if they could, what makes you think they’ll ever come to the demon realm?"
Zarethia’s answer was a serene smile, as if Lena’s doubts only amused her. "The old man said they would come. Soon. And when they do, they’ll be strong enough to matter."
Lena frowned, silence hanging heavy for a beat.
She knew that Zarethia wasn’t dumb enough to believe everything that came out of that man’s mouth.
The big sister she knew was someone who had fought against all odds and grown strong enough to be a pain in the demon sovereign’s ass.
Despite behaving like a playful, easy-going demon, Zarethia had every quality a ruler could have.
After all, it was only because of those qualities that Lena had decided to forfeit the throne to Zarethia.
Because her older sister, although a bit unique, was more worthy of the throne than her.
So, after a bout of silence, Lena exhaled sharply and shrugged. "We’ll see when the time comes. In the end, that old man will either prove himself... or reveal he’s nothing but a traitor—"
Before she could complete her words—
—A soft click echoed down the corridor.
Both women turned as a man in a butler’s uniform emerged from the shadows, his every movement precise and wordless.
He was one of Zerathia’s most trusted subordinates.
The moment he appeared, Lena’s posture snapped back into perfect composure, her golden eyes cool and distant, the obedient maid once more.
Zarethia giggled quietly, shaking her head at her sister’s sudden transformation.
"Ah, Lena," she whispered, her violet eyes glittering with amusement. "Ever the dutiful maid when someone’s watching."
The butler’s polished shoes made no sound against the stone as he approached, yet his presence pressed into the balcony like a quiet tide. He stopped three paces away, bowing low, one hand across his chest.
"Lady Zarethia," he said, voice calm but clipped with urgency, "scouts report movement. Several of the Sovereign’s faction have entered the district. They have not yet discovered this place... but from their patterns, it appears they intend to conduct an area-wide search."
For a heartbeat, the playful glimmer in Zarethia’s violet eyes dimmed. Her lips parted slightly, the smirk softening into something sharper, colder.
Shadows from the torchlight bent across her face, and though her smile remained, it carried none of its earlier warmth.
She inclined her head, the faintest nod, before turning toward her sister. "Lena," she said smoothly, but her tone was steel wrapped in silk. "It seems our quiet evening is over. Time to stall them—let’s see how long this little sanctuary of ours can remain hidden."
Lena’s golden gaze flickered, narrowing as a sly, almost wolfish smile crept to her lips. "As you command... Lady Zarethia."
The butler straightened, awaiting the next order, while the violet torch sputtered as if in anticipation of the games about to begin.
However, they weren’t the only ones rushing toward a battle.
Far from there, in the human realm, in the Ashen Expanse, Raven and his group were doing the same.
The only difference was that, unlike Zarethia and her group, they had yet to find their enemies.
If, in the demon realm, Zarethia and her group were the ones in the dark, attacking their enemies from the shadows, then Raven and his group were the opposite.
Though one thing about Raven’s group was different now.
Thanks to Crisaius, the air of heaviness that surrounded them was gone.
.............................
The air inside the Ashen Expanse was a thick, smoky gray, like breathing through damp charcoal.
Each step sank into soft ash, leaving faint prints that were quickly swallowed by the constant drift of black dust.
Ahead, a faint trail of something shone faintly against the dim, corrupted ground.
"...Is it just me," Jessy drawled, hands buried in her coat pockets, "or does that really look like chicken crap?"
"It is chicken crap," Alex said matter-of-factly, crouching to inspect a splatter of pale, steaming evidence. Nibbles perched on his shoulder, nose twitching with professional curiosity.
The squirrel flicked up a small sign that read in perfect handwriting: ’Genuine Cluckles™ Trail. Limited Edition.’
"Limited edition?!" Graye leaned forward, armor plates clinking as her eyes sparkled. "I knew Cluckles was a legend, but I didn’t think we’d get actual relics!"
"Please don’t call chicken shit a relic," Clara said with the gentle patience of someone who knew it wouldn’t matter.
Rufus tilted his head, squinting at the trail. "Technically, if the chicken’s a hero, his droppings are artifacts."
Jessy groaned. "Fantastic. We’re following the world’s most disgusting breadcrumbs."
Raven walked a few paces ahead, his black coat brushing against the drifting ash, eyes half-lidded but alert.
"Don’t complain," he said quietly. "This is the only trail Cluckles can leave that predators won’t bother hiding. It’s efficient."
"Efficiently gross," Siris muttered, twirling a dagger between her fingers. Her icy eyes lit with faint bloodlust as she sniffed the air. "Still smells fresher than the beasts here."
Omni’s voice slid out from Raven’s arm, smooth and cocky.
"Yo, boss, your chicken’s got game. Leaving heat like a breadcrumb rapper. Respect."
Selena, walking just beside Raven, hid a small smile behind her hand. "At least it’s easy to track. That’s more than I can say for some of our strategies."
Her eyes flicked to Siris, who grinned back with sharp, almost feral delight.
Jake, silent as always, merely adjusted his blade and kept scanning the dark ridges around them.
The group followed the pale trail through a corridor of blackened trees, their branches clawing at the sky like frozen lightning.
Ash swirled with every step, and somewhere deeper in the expanse, a low, wet thrum vibrated through the ground.
Graye straightened suddenly, her armored curves catching the faint violet glow. "Did you guys feel that? Please tell me that’s not my stomach again."
Raven stopped. His eyes sharpened to cold steel. "No. Something’s moving."
A shape emerged ahead—a hulking, half-rotted beast dragging a mass of pulsing flesh. Its eyes burned with sickly green fire, limbs twisted by the corrupt mana.
"Ugly," Siris beamed, already pulling her daggers free. "I call first stab."
"Don’t rush in," Raven warned, his voice a calm blade through the heavy air.
But Siris was already bouncing on her toes, Clara reaching to steady her with a sigh.
Omni chuckled darkly from Raven’s arm.
"Boss, that thing looks like a dumpster had a baby with a nightmare. Let’s slice it up before it breeds."
The beast let out a wet, gurgling roar that shook the ash from the dead trees.
Raven’s gaze hardened. "Formation. Don’t let it escape your sight. Cluckles’ trail isn’t the only thing we’re following anymore."
The group moved as one, ash curling around their boots like smoke as the corrupted beast, oblivious to their presence, kept moving.