Chapter 82
Kei Y found himself in a rather difficult position, one that to everyone else would seem easy. The opportunity of unimaginable riches, cultivation materials of any quality, and the chance to serve under a young master who already had a General-class servant—all of it was laid out before him. The young master was clearly interested in Kei Y’s potential, and anyone could see how simple it would be to accept. Spare an enemy—one who had been easily defeated despite his higher cultivation level—and take the offer of power, prestige, and resources.
It was a choice many would make without hesitation. But for Kei Y, the reluctance was deep, rooted in the very reason he often spared lives when he could.
Kei Y had a philosophy that shaped his every decision—one that, ironically, came from the same place as his ruthlessness. He valued life, yes, but only when that life had purpose. He would never kill out of malice, but he could not stand to see life wasted, either. Kei Y’s mercy often came from his belief that every person should have some form of meaning, some reason for their existence. He hoped that no one would ever die feeling as though their life had no purpose—that their existence hadn't mattered. Even worse in his eyes was the thought that someone might live in such a way that their life would’ve been better off never having existed at all.
That was why Kei Y had always been merciful, but it wasn’t an indiscriminate mercy. To him, if someone lived a life without purpose—doing no harm and making no impact, simply existing in peace—that was a tragedy, but he wouldn’t take it from them unless it endangered others. But to live with no purpose and actively ruin the lives of others, using them for personal gain or to feed a selfish need, was something unforgivable to him. And that, in the end, was what Nekhtem had represented to Kei Y—someone whose life had been squandered, someone who had lived only to oppress, to force others into servitude for his own benefit.
Kei Y's decision was not about power or wealth—it was about the value of life itself. When faced with the choice to spare Nekhtem, the question was not just whether it was the "right" thing to do, but whether Nekhtem’s existence had any meaning at all. Could a man who had chosen to destroy others, a man who had no purpose beyond using people for his own gain, truly be spared without devaluing the lives of those he had harmed?
If Kei Y’s friends from the Expanse—those who had seen him pray over the lives they had taken in pursuit of strength—were here, they would believe him to be a different person entirely. They had witnessed his mercy before, they had seen his struggle, his reluctance to take lives unless it was absolutely necessary. And now, in the face of Nekhtem’s life, they might see a side of Kei Y that was unrecognizable. His ruthless decision to end Nekhtem’s life, to put an end to someone who had squandered their existence in the worst possible way, would leave them questioning whether this was the same Kei Y they had known.
Kei Y felt the weight of his conflict more than ever, the pressure of the situation mounting around him. Under the influence of such an advanced cultivator’s will, he found himself questioning the decision he was about to make. It wasn’t just about Nekhtem anymore—it was about everything and everyone that would be impacted by his actions.
His eyes flickered briefly to the crowd, his mind running over the tangled web of connections he’d woven. The people watching were no longer just spectators—they were potential threats, potential enemies. His friends, those who would be dragged into this mess with him, were also at risk. Silvie, Kei M, Mia, Inpu—all of them were now tied to him in ways that couldn’t easily be undone. Three kids entering fractured zones and coming out unscathed? That wasn’t something anyone would overlook. It was enough to draw attention, and it was clear that eyes were now on them, watching their every move.
Nekhtem’s gang was another problem entirely. If they hadn’t already connected the dots, they would soon. It wouldn’t take long for them to figure out that Kei M was linked to Mia, and with enough time, they’d draw the connection between Kei Y and Inpu. They had spent time together at the worksite—he had even handed out food alongside him. That was a trail that could be followed, and it wouldn’t be hard to make the connection that the boy who had fought Nekhtem to the brink of death was linked to others.
Kei Y’s thoughts drifted briefly to his own options. If it were just him, and if he had his full capabilities at his disposal, he could slip away. His ability to fold into the wind currents, to blend into the world around him, was something he could rely on. He could try to slip away, try to avoid the consequences, and let things settle on their own. But that was assuming he was alone—and more importantly, that he could act without dragging anyone down with him.
The situation was different now. The stakes weren’t just his own life or his own freedom. Nekhtem’s words, in the end, had struck a nerve. “A dead genius never amounts to much.” The irony of it, the way those words rang true, stung more than Kei Y cared to admit. He could hide away, run, and disappear into the wind—he was a God Spark after all, with pristine aether to fuel his escape if needed. But even that wouldn’t guarantee safety—not when it came to a General Class. To run away with all his power and not face the consequences would be nothing more than a desperate attempt, a last-ditch effort that would ultimately make him no better than the enemies he fought.
Kei Y’s gaze hardened, simply stood there, torn between the man he was and the man he needed to become. His hesitation wasn’t out of fear; it was the recognition of the ripple effect his actions would have. To let Nekhtem live would be to dishonor his own philosophy. To end him would mean crossing a line that might very well mean the end of any chance at peace with those he cared about.
And then, as if the weight of the situation wasn’t enough, the General Class loomed closer, his presence an almost tangible pressure, reminding Kei Y of the world he was about to step into.
Kei Y took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. No matter what happened next, it wasn’t just about his own future anymore—it was about making the right choice, one that would protect those he cared about while still staying true to the path he had set for himself.
As Kei Y grappled with his internal conflict, a quiet voice broke through the suffocating atmosphere. The General Class servant, his presence almost invisible yet undeniable, spoke with a tone that was both respectful and humble.
“Young man,” the General Class said, his voice gentle but firm, cutting through the pressure that weighed on Kei Y. “Would you do this old gentleman a favor and afford me the opportunity to learn your name?”
Kei Y’s body trembled as he fought to catch his breath. His knees shook, and his mind felt like it was sinking into the overwhelming pressure from the General's will. It was as if the air itself had become heavier, more solid, each moment stretching into eternity.
“Khe…” Kei Y gasped, each breath an effort as the suffocating weight continued to press down on him. He could barely speak, his voice strained and fragile. “Nu…” he tried again, but the words were caught in his throat, his lungs constricting from the exertion.
“Oh dear me, I do apologize,” the General Class servant said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. He immediately released the tiniest bit of his will, and Kei Y’s body, already on the brink, relaxed slightly as the pressure lifted. “I only released a bit of my will to stall you for a moment so I could make my request. I do hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.”
The General Class servant bowed low—at a 90-degree angle, one arm behind his back and the other across his chest. His movements were fluid, elegant, and calculated. As he did, the pressure completely lifted, and Kei Y, who had been on the verge of collapse, immediately fell to the ground. The sweat on his brow soaked into the earth beneath him, and the coldness of the dirt beneath his hands helped anchor him to reality. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe deeply, relieved from the suffocating weight.
“I do not wish to cause you any further discomfort,” he continued, his voice softening with kindness. “If it matters to you, this humble servant goes by the name of Emory. But you may simply call me Mr. Wren.”
Kei Y, still struggling to regain his composure, felt too light-headed to care about the formality of names. His mind was still reeling from the immense pressure he’d just experienced, and his body felt as though it had been drained of every ounce of strength. His response, if any, was lost in the fog of his exhaustion. The name Mr. Wren barely registered as he tried to steady himself, caught between dizziness and the overwhelming force he had just endured.
As Kei Y stood in the arena, the weight of the moment pressed down on him, and he could feel the consequences of his decision rushing at him. Silvie and Kei M stood at the edge, watching from a distance, ready to act the moment things went sideways. Their presence was a silent reassurance, but even they could sense the difficult position Kei Y was in.
Kei Y's gaze remained down, his chest tightening with every second that passed. The protective barrier around the arena, once solid and impenetrable, began to dim. The glowing walls wavered, flickering as the energy of the arena gradually faded.
He trembled slightly as he followed Emory's words to void the death contract. A deep breath escaped his lips, his focus narrowing as the system’s prompt appeared before him. The contract—his battle with Nekhtem—could be undone, but there was a caveat: he had to confirm the voiding process a second time.
The first initiation triggered the dissolution of the barrier. The system wasn’t just allowing him to make a rash decision. It was giving him time, a grace period, to reconsider.
The seconds felt like minutes as Kei Y’s mind raced. Would he accept Emory’s offer? Should he spare Nekhtem, and potentially walk down a path that would tie him to forces greater than himself? Or should he honor his philosophy, reject the offer, and continue to face the consequences of his own actions?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
In the distance, Silvie and Kei M exchanged a glance. They could tell Kei Y was struggling, but neither of them moved forward just yet. Silvie’s hands tightened into fists at her sides, knowing full well that no matter what decision Kei Y made, it would affect them all. Kei M, ever the stoic observer, remained silent, but his gaze was sharp, calculating, as if reading the very atmosphere for signs of what might come next.
The arena felt colder now, the flickering barrier dimming to a faint outline. Time stretched, and the system’s second prompt appeared, urging him to confirm.
Kei Y’s breath quickened. His decision would define not only his own future but that of those around him. The space between him and the second confirmation felt like an eternity, each passing second forcing him deeper into the heart of his own internal conflict.
The weight of his choices, the sense of duty to protect those he cared about, and his own philosophy of life pressed on him from all sides. The question remained: could he reconcile mercy with the reality of the world he was now a part of?
As the system’s second prompt hovered in front of him, Kei Y was left with only one choice: would he make the decision to let Nekhtem live or end it all here, once and for all? The barrier that had once stood so solid and unyielding would soon be no more, leaving only the aftermath of his decision.
What would Kei Y choose?
Seeing the barrier dissolve, the young master scoffed, a smug grin forming on his face. "Hmph, seems like you have a bit of sense after all, and you know your place. I’d hate to see such a meager, but barely acceptable talent go to waste. Hurry and cancel the match and surrender yourself to me if you know what’s good for you."
Kei Y, who had kept his head down throughout the encounter, struggling against the suffocating pressure, slowly raised it at the young master's words. His gaze locked directly with the young master for the first time. The scorn and pride emanating from the young man were palpable. It was clear that the young master had always believed himself to be above others, expecting them to bow to him as if it were his birthright.
"Now, young master," Emory’s voice cut through the tension, "those words and that attitude are unbecoming. I suggest you immediately work on it, lest it invites a calamity upon yourself that you're not able to bear."
The young master’s expression faltered, a flash of confusion passing through his features. For a moment, it seemed as if Emory’s words had struck a chord, but the young man quickly regained his composure. His sneer deepened, and he made an impatient motion with his hand, clearly unimpressed by Emory’s intervention.
Emory’s voice was calm and measured as he continued, "You must remember, young master, the arrogance you carry may weigh heavier than you think. It may even be your undoing."
The young master, frustrated by Emory's defiance, growled under his breath but said nothing more. Instead, his eyes flickered to Kei Y, his patience quickly running out, clearly eager to assert his dominance once more.
Before he could respond, a voice rang out from behind them, sharp and filled with disdain. "You know, old man Emory," the voice began, its tone dripping with disappointment, "I’d never take you as one to bully the younger generation. Never thought you’d fall so low. I expected much more from you."
The voice was filled with reproach, and there was a slight, almost imperceptible tinge of sadness, as if the speaker truly had hoped that Emory’s actions would reflect better on him.
Emory’s head turned ever so slightly toward the voice, his expression unchanging. "Oh, Auserre," he said, his tone calm and measured, "I ask that you forgive me, as I do take offense at that characterization of my actions. I never meant to bully my young friend here. I was simply hoping he’d take a moment to listen to this servant’s words before he committed to his actions." Emory's eyes briefly flickered toward the young master before returning to the figure behind him. "As for what he chooses, I do not have any intentions of causing any difficulties to befall him. He won this challenge fairly, on his own merits."
The young master’s expression darkened at Emory’s response, his frustration boiling over. "What are you talking about? No difficulties?" he snapped, clearly annoyed at Emory’s words. "He has to listen to me, or else..."
Before the young master could finish, Emory stepped forward with a more deliberate presence, his aura shifting slightly. The calm, humble servant who had been at the young master’s side now stood tall, his posture unyielding as he addressed the young man with a firmness that had not been there before.
"Youth," Emory said, his voice cutting through the rising tension like a blade. "I do say this with great urgency: I advise you to cease your attitude at this moment. This is no longer a matter of servant and master, but of wisdom and consequence. I will not warn you again."
For the first time since his presence had been revealed, Emory’s composure slipped slightly. The professional calm had been replaced by a sense of authority that radiated with quiet power. His eyes bore into the young master with a sternness that no longer allowed for any argument.
The young master, stunned into silence by Emory’s words and the shift in his aura, stood motionless for a beat. His arrogance, once so unshakable, had faltered, though he quickly regained his bravado.
"I will not be talked to this way!" the young master hissed, his anger now clear. "You’re just a servant! Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?"
But Emory did not back down. His gaze remained unwavering as he spoke again, his voice resolute. "I am someone who understands the consequences of actions, young master. Something you would do well to learn. I suggest you reconsider your approach. There are consequences that you may not yet be able to bear."
The young master’s face turned red with rage, but as he looked into Emory’s eyes, the full weight of the situation began to settle in. The servant before him was not just any lowly figure—he was someone who had seen more than the young master could ever imagine. Someone whose patience had limits, and whose presence commanded respect.
The young master opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. He could sense the change in the air, the undeniable shift in the dynamic between them. For the first time, the young master found himself questioning the strength of his own position. Emory’s unyielding resolve had pierced through his arrogance like a dagger.
"Enough," the young master spat, frustration and humiliation mixing in his voice. "Do whatever you want. I’ll leave."
The atmosphere shifted as Auserre’s voice cut through the tension. “Oh no, young master, you stay here too. I found your words rather irritating,” she said, her tone sharp yet composed. The crowd fell silent as she made her presence known, her confidence radiating like an aura. Kei Y, who had been struggling with his own internal turmoil, finally managed to glance at her, his eyes filled with confusion. What was she doing here?
"Hey, Old Lady, I'm fine. No need to invite trouble onto yourself for little ol' me," Kei Y attempted to laugh off the situation, his voice weak and strained, clearly trying to mask his exhaustion.
“Brat, you really are brave, aren't you?” Auserre remarked with a hint of softening in her voice as she looked at him, her gaze taking in his battered appearance. She could see the toll Emory's pressure had taken on him, the desperation behind his bravado.
"Heh, told you I'd win, didn’t I? This is just a small setback. Don’t worry about it," Kei Y responded, trying to reassure her, though the sadness in his eyes told a different story. His words were an attempt at masking the fear and uncertainty beneath, and Auserre could see it. It was as if he were silently begging her to leave before things got worse.
“Tch, you idiot,” Auserre muttered, clearly exasperated but not without a trace of concern in her eyes. She turned her attention back to the situation at hand, her presence a shield as she prepared for whatever came next.
The young master, who had been frustrated by the earlier disruption, spoke up. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he demanded, his voice rising in anger.
Before Auserre could answer, the young master felt a sudden firm grip on his shoulder, a pressure that caused him to flinch in shock. He turned to find Emory standing behind him, his usually calm and composed demeanor replaced with quiet but intense authority. Emory's presence was undeniable, and it was clear to everyone that the situation had just shifted.
“Please forgive me for this one’s behavior, Auserre,” Emory said, his voice no longer as polite as before. "I’ll do my best to fix his unpleasant temperament.” With that, he offered a deep and respectful bow, his posture as humble as ever, but with an underlying firmness that made it clear he was not backing down.
The young master, visibly rattled by the turn of events, couldn’t contain his frustration. "What do you think you're doing?!" he sputtered, but Emory’s unwavering stance told him there was no room for argument.
Kei Y, who had been watching, finally allowed himself a brief moment to breathe as the situation shifted. Auserre’s boldness, Emory’s quiet authority—things were moving in a direction that felt out of his control, but for the first time, it was a change he could live with.
“Emory, get your hand off me ri—” The young master started, but before he could finish, he felt the cold press of a sharp blade against his neck, the sudden sensation sending a jolt of fear through his entire body. His words died in his throat as his breath hitched, the pressure of the blade sending a wave of terror over him.
“What?” he gasped, eyes wide in shock as he struggled to comprehend what was happening.
Emory's expression was as calm as ever, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice now, as he pressed the blade a little further into the young master’s skin. “You really seem to take my words too lightly, young master,” he said, his tone now low and controlled, carrying a quiet menace that made the young master’s heart race. “I’ll be sure to fix that really soon.”
The young master stood frozen, his body tense with fear as the blade remained pressed to his throat, a thin stream of blood beginning to trickle down. The feeling of helplessness washed over him, and for the first time in his life, he could feel the cold grip of his own vulnerability.
“You’d do best to understand the situation you’re in right now before you say another word to her,” Emory continued, his words like an icy wind cutting through the young master’s defiance.
The young master’s breath came in shallow gasps, panic beginning to set in. He was at the mercy of his own servant. He had always seen Emory as nothing more than a humble and loyal servant, but now, this new side of him—cold, calculating, and dangerous—was revealed in full force.
Emory’s gaze hardened as he leaned in slightly, his tone still eerily calm. “Also, you’d do best to know that you being the crown prince of this kingdom will offer you no protection against her. Let alone you, the king himself would execute all of his children if it meant a 1% chance of not getting on her wrong side.”
The young master’s world seemed to spin around him, the weight of Emory’s words crushing his every thought. The thought that his status meant nothing in this moment, that even his father—the king—could cast him aside, made him feel more vulnerable than he ever had before.
“As of right now, know that your life as crown prince holds no value,” Emory continued, pressing the blade just slightly deeper into the young master’s neck, drawing a bit more blood. “And you of all people should know how easy it is for a new crown prince to be crowned.”
The words stung, each one a reminder that his position was not as secure as he had always believed. The crown he had taken for granted could be stripped away at any moment, and in this moment, it felt like it might be.
Emory’s eyes flickered over to Kei M, the silent exchange between them carrying a weight that could not be ignored. Without speaking a word, Emory’s gaze conveyed an understanding that neither could voice aloud. Isn’t that right, young master Kei Moriyama, former crown prince?
The young master, his face pale and his hands trembling, could no longer deny the gravity of the situation. The weight of his father’s potential actions, the very real threat to his life, and the fact that he was at the mercy of a servant—all of it sank in. His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out.