In the vast conference hall, the four most preeminent figures, the masterminds representing the strongest dark forces, sat facing each other around the polished black ebony table.

With his aristocratic appearance and perpetually faint, artificial smile, Londor spoke slowly, breaking the tense silence. "The objectives we set out in the plan to attack Aerion have been largely achieved. The spoils will be divided fairly, in accordance with the agreements we made from the beginning. After this meeting concludes, I invite the esteemed representatives of the black societies to meet with me privately to receive their share." He spoke, his tone still polite and measured as usual, but his cunning eyes glinted with calculation.

"It's clear, esteemed Lord Laurent," Queen said, her clear, sweet voice like a sugar-coated poison, "you could have done much better than this. With your strength and calculations, inflicting even heavier damage on Zephyros, even devastating one of their four satellite cities, would not have been impossible. So why did you stop at this level, only causing enough damage for us to reap the previously committed benefits?" she questioned, her sharp gaze fixed on Laurent, trying to probe for a satisfactory answer.

"I am aware that both your Black Chess Society, dear lady, and Lord Londor's Gilded Veil," Laurent replied indifferently, his low, steady voice betraying no emotion, "have close ties and vested interests with the western power of Klariz. You, of course, wish to see Zephyros, Klariz's sworn enemy, suffer the heaviest losses, to be weakened as much as possible, so that Klariz can easily gain the upper hand. But we are different."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the other three. "My Cabal does not answer to any nation," Laurent stated, his voice a silken thread of indifference. "We have no desire to become entangled in the petty squabbles of empires."

He looked directly at Queen, then Londor, then Zepar. "Moreover, your objectives have been met. Your Black Chess Society has its catalysts for the King. Lord Londor has his coveted holy artifacts. And you, Zepar, have the resources for your precious ascension." A dangerous glint entered his eyes. "I suggest you remember that. Greed is corrosive and makes men forget their place."

"I hope that all of you know your limits and will strictly adhere to the agreements and arrangements made after this event concludes. I do not want Cabal, nor our grander plan, to be affected by the insatiable greed or careless stupidity of any individual or power." He glanced around once more, then continued, his voice growing even more mysterious and unpredictable: "And what if I told you," Laurent continued, his tone still chillingly calm, "that Grand Marshal Karatyr of Zephyros himself was a part of this plan?"

When Laurent uttered the name "Karatyr," Zepar slammed the table reflexively. But after the "SLAM," he froze. His initial outburst of anger was quickly replaced by confusion. A deal with the enemy? He didn't understand, and that lack of understanding made him afraid.

Queen didn't scream. The feathered fan in her hand simply stopped fluttering. For a moment, her haughty expression vanished, replaced by cold calculation as she re-evaluated the entire chessboard. He was steps ahead of all of us. So what are we in this plan?

As for Londor, he felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had thought himself a wise player, the one pulling the strings of relationships. But now he realized he was just a pawn on Laurent's board. This man not only dared to attack Zephyros, he dared to collude with the monster who led it. The danger level of Laurent had just been completely redefined in his mind.

Suspicious glances fell upon Laurent. "You… you dared to attack the capital of a redoubtable nation, and you dared to negotiate and make a deal with its leader?"

"What did you trade with that old man Karatyr? What leverage did he have to trust and follow the words of someone like you?" Countless questions and doubts rang out from all corners of the room. The other three representatives at the round table, Londor, Queen, and Zepar, could not hide their utter shock at Laurent's stunning declaration.

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"Ha ha ha! Lady Queen here just has a small question, esteemed Lord Laurent," Londor quickly interjected, trying to de-escalate the increasingly tense and suffocating atmosphere. "I know you have put a great deal of heart and effort into this grand plan. We, all of us present here, will certainly adhere strictly to the agreements and arrangements made after this meeting. No one would dare to defy your will."

"Though I have no love for your arrogant demeanor," Zepar of the Scarlet Crusader suddenly spoke, his gruff voice carrying a hint of admiration, "I must admit, I truly admire you, Laurent. A nation with three Demigods guarding it, a capital as fortified as Aerion, even top powers like Klariz or Loren wouldn't dare to think of a direct attack. If not for the need for absolute secrecy, I think the recent battle deserves to be recorded in the history of Tehra as one of the most daring and successful assaults."

"Oh, I had no idea that someone from the austere, fanatical, and somewhat foolish Scarlet Crusader like yourself also had such a talent for flattery," Queen once again interjected mockingly, her sharp eyes staring straight at Zepar.

"Instead of trying to be sarcastic and derisive," Zepar retorted with a provocative laugh, "perhaps you should take the precious spoils you just received and go heal your lame King, before he breathes his last and leaves you with an unsolvable mess."

"In any case, our Black Chess Society will soon have a new Demigod-level power, a crucial addition," Queen's sweet, seductive voice suddenly turned as cold as ice, containing a deadly threat. "I wonder if your Scarlet Crusader has the ability to make that ascension ritual succeed? That is indeed hard to say."

"I have no interest in what you all will do, what you will calculate after today's meeting," Londor, the host, finally had to intervene, his voice now stern. He slowly placed both his hands flat on the polished black ebony table.

Instantly, an invisible pressure descended from somewhere, making all the Rankers in the conference room feel suffocated, as if a thousand-pound rock was pressing on their chests. The entire ancient castle, it turned out, was a magic formation; everyone inside would have to obey the established order or be suppressed by it.

"I agree" Laurent also spoke in a low voice, each word from his mouth seeming to carry an a sense of gravity, causing everyone in the room to feel a tremor in their minds. The suffocating feeling from Londor's magic vanished, replaced by a cold dread.

They felt like weak prey before a hungry, ferocious lion. In that brief instant, many in this room, the leaders of Black Societies, high-ranking Rankers, felt the closeness of death, an experience they would probably never forget in their lives.

In that moment, they all seemed to understand. They were not partners; they were just tools. Their lives were completely in the hands of the white-haired demigod sitting across from them.

This was the overwhelming presence of a peak Rank 7 Demigod, one of the most powerful entities in Tehra. The power of this mysterious white-haired man was perhaps even greater than the two Demigods guarding the capital Aerion, Alfie and Vincent.

On the highest hilltop, a figure stood majestically. Behind him was an army with a formidable aether presence. That was Grand Master Mythris.

His silver-white robe fluttered gently in the wind. He said not a word, only silently casting his gaze down below, where a sea of deep green forest stretched to the horizon, dark and mysterious. His eyes did not merely look, but seemed to pierce through every leaf and layer of mist, searching for something an ordinary person could not see.

Behind him, hundreds of warriors from the Celestial Accord Alliance stood still as a forest of steel, without a sound, without a single wasted movement. The twilight reflected off their silver-white armor, creating a silent but deadly aura. They were waiting, waiting for the command from their supreme commander.

"Something is not right," Mythris finally spoke. His low voice was not drowned out by the wind but seemed to merge with it, carrying absolute authority.

He gently raised his right hand. A stream of blue aether, pure as crystal, condensed in his palm before spreading out, creating an invisible wave of energy that swept down into the forest below.

Immediately, the space above the forest below seemed to distort. A nearly transparent barrier, shimmering gently like the surface of a lake, slowly materialized. It enveloped a vast area of the forest. On the barrier's surface, countless ancient, charcoal-purple runes began to crawl, winding like dark snakes and emitting a dim, eerie light.

The soldiers behind him simultaneously tightened their grips on their weapons. The entire army's presence grew tense and sharp. They had seen their target.

Mythris lowered his hand, his icy blue eyes flashing with resolve. "Target acquired. Prepare to attack."

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