Chapter 260: The Root of Ruin (7)
The Constellation of the Winning Catalyst, even at just the Primordial rank, was something that made Milan stand out with undeniable uniqueness.
Similar to Amber, who once wielded a Primordial-ranked star that let her remain valuable despite her so-called "lacking" talent compared to those with Origin-ranked stars, Milan’s star could easily be considered the pinnacle of what a Primordial star could achieve.
True to its name, most of its strength didn’t lie in overpowering enemies in direct battle. Still, in creating the perfect conditions—setting up the catalysts—that would ultimately lead to victory.
The number of catalysts needed to guarantee her plans could be as few as three or as many as nine—both small numbers in the grand scheme of things.
Especially now, because the moment she realized that the specimen—Amber—was not on Kalpa but actually just five minutes away, she had immediately begun shaping a plan.
A plan that required only three catalysts, two of which had already been set in motion in the short time since Amber’s arrival.
Anyone entering this forest without authorization would trigger one catalyst, leaving only two more Milan needed to arrange specifically for Amber.
The second was simple: Amber observing her surroundings. It was a minor, almost obvious action, and that was precisely why Milan had chosen it.
After all, anyone venturing into an unfamiliar or unusual place for the first time would naturally keep a close watch on their environment.
And the third?
Well...
----
Without wasting any more time, Amber stepped into the cave.
What lay before her was a single, straight hall without any branching paths, its black-stone walls set with torches at regular intervals.
The flames burned steadily and low, casting long, orderly shadows that stretched ahead of her sandals.
She moved forward, and almost at once the weight of the place settled across her shoulders—not something physical... but more like the quiet pressure of a secret hideout built for one purpose.
For quite some time, she just kept walking, her senses sharp and tuned to every detail.
The quiet was so deep that even the faint scrape of her footsteps seemed hesitant to leave any sound behind, fading almost instantly into the stillness.
In that profound hush, the earlier thrill of the forest shifted into something tauter, more focused, and more watchful.
"Well... this is quite the place," she muttered, the words small against the stone. "She really went all in on the dark scheming vibe..."
After ten minutes, the scene started to shift.
Up ahead, the far end of the hall began to spread out, the neat patterns of shadow breaking apart as the walls pulled back.
The dim torchlight slowly gave way to a warmer, more generous glow, hinting at the entrance to a considerable chamber.
Amber’s fingers twitched instinctively at her side.
Her affinity still shielded her from perception, but the sense of concealment seemed weaker here, as though the corridor itself had been waiting for someone to make the walk to its end finally.
She kept on until the threshold opened fully before her, and the main cavern where Milan had last been finally stood revealed.
The moment Amber stepped over the threshold, she stopped dead in her tracks.
It wasn’t because of any strange power or catalyst—just pure, unfiltered shock.
In the center of the chamber, Milan sat suspended in midair, legs crossed and an unsettling smile curling her lips.
Directly in front of her hovered a strange tube, ominously brimming with the stolen semen and vitality of countless men that she had gathered over her years on Kalpa.
That alone might have been enough to provoke disgust, but it wasn’t what made Amber freeze in her tracks.
The space resembled less a natural cavern and more a meticulously arranged laboratory.
All along the walls and neatly arranged in rows across the floor stood hundreds of tubes, each one containing a woman who looked exactly like Amber.
And... they were not just similar or passably alike, but precise, interchangeable replicas of her face, her build, every detail of her features, all suspended in fluid as though waiting for some specific purpose.
Milan kept her smile firmly in place, her outward composure unshaken, though beneath the surface a flicker of confusion stirred.
’Why can’t I see her?’ she wondered, noting that while Amber’s form remained indistinct, the faint, dull-blue mark hung in the air as if suspended on nothing.
’Interesting... but it matters not,’ she decided, letting the uncertainty dissolve in an instant.
’Now... for the third and final catalyst.’
With her thoughts settled, she turned her attention back to the moment.
"What... little specimen, at a loss for words?" she said aloud, her tone light yet edged.
Amber’s gaze finally broke from the nearby tube, fastening onto Milan’s with sudden intensity.
When she spoke, her voice was rough, stripped of the casual ease from before.
"What is... going on?"
The moment the words slipped from Amber’s lips...
HUMMMMM!!!!
Her body, divinity, escaping measures, and the connection to her star all slammed shut at once, as though the world of Loreau itself had drawn a lock.
The low, resonating hum still pulsed through the stone, trembling in the air, while she hung suspended in the abrupt and absolute confinement of the catalysts now brought to completion.
Amber’s eyes widened, fixed on Milan’s with unbroken intensity.
In the same moment her power sealed, the hold on her spectrum affinity unraveled; the shroud of Black dissolved in a swift, thinning rush, leaving her fully exposed under the laboratory lights.
Her long brown hair spilled free without the concealment, her face and figure no longer hidden from the princess’s unwavering gaze.
As she tried to move, her fingers refused to close, and her shoulders stayed locked in place. The simple urge to step forward, raise a hand, or summon even a flicker of divinity hit an unyielding wall within her own body.
Internally, a hollow little laugh moved through her thoughts, dry and almost appreciative.
’Well... damn.’
When she spoke, the words did not come out in fear or remaining shock.
They came out level, stripped, and direct, her locked gaze still on Milan’s unpleasant smile amid the ranks of tubes that wore her own face.
"Milan... what did you do to me?"