Chapter 98 - 98: The White Snake
In a vast room adorned with delicate white orbs that cascaded from the ceiling like crystalline chandeliers, several figures gathered around a circular table, each bearing stark, shadowed expressions.
The table itself was pearl-gray, as if carved from ancient driftwood, while the floor resembled tiles of frozen waves caught mid-crash. The walls appeared like waterfalls suspended in time—liquid motion trapped and crystallized in eternal cascade.
The chamber struck a perfect balance: compact yet spacious enough to accommodate everyone without wasted breath of space. No windows pierced the walls, but the ceiling yawned open to welcome natural light that poured down in torrents, bathing the assembled figures in luminous, golden rays.
Silence reigned absolute. A suffocating, unspoken tension pressed down as they waited for the one empty seat that commanded the table like a vacant throne.
Then a section of wall slid away, revealing someone ascending from the depths below, flanked by two female escorts who trailed like shadows behind her.
She entered the room while her escorts remained outside, and the wall sealed shut with finality.
Every soul rose the instant she crossed the threshold. Her storm-washed steel eyes swept across the table's occupants with surgical precision. She looked like someone whose brutal experiences had taught her to wield both beauty and devastation as weapons.
Her slender, porcelain hands found the table's edge, fingers drumming a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Everyone seemed to swallow their very breath.
Her voice flowed like silk laced with poison—intoxicating and dangerous.
"Aetherion was important, not merely to the Clan's reputation. Scorchwing Sentinel was our lifeline to Osiris. You all understand this—we had prepared for this moment... and yet..."
Her voice trembled at the precipice of breaking, but she reined it back with iron control, falling into loaded silence.
The pause stretched like a blade.
Then another voice cut through—sweet and razor-thin.
"The fault is mine alone, High Matron. You entrusted me with the raid's command, and as Assistant Clan Leader, I should have anticipated this catastrophe."
Another figure erupted from his seat, slick black hair gleaming like obsidian under the light, eyes blazing with desperate determination.
"Matriarch! The blame falls on me! I'm the one—if I hadn't fired that fatal shot that claimed Lady Lucreatia's life, we would have killed Aetherion! He wouldn't have fallen into some rogue player's hands!"
His voice thundered through the space. The outburst didn't just assault the High Matron's ears—it carved into her very soul.
She massaged her temples with practiced grace and released a weary sigh.
"Silence, Haoki."
The boy's breath came in ragged gasps.
"Forgive me, Matriarch. I was merely—"
The Matriarch's raised hand sliced through his words like a guillotine.
"Eki bore the responsibility as raid commander. Your failures, and everyone else's, fall under her charge. She was meant to account for every variable, every twist of fate."
Her gaze shifted to White Snake with predatory focus.
"In simpler terms, you should have been prepared, darling."
Lucreatia bowed her head, words dying in her throat like strangled birds.
"Therefore, you will face the consequences."
Tension coiled around the table like a living thing.
Even the air itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the executioner's blow. And like the whispered promise of winter's bite, her words came.
"You are banished from the Clan. If you truly cherish this family and seek to reclaim your honor, return with Player Cien. Better yet—hunt down Osiris yourself and unlock the core of the main scenario."
Immediately, voices erupted in chaos. Haoki shot to his feet again.
"Matriarch! You cannot! Lady Lucreatia is invaluable to Golden Wing. Casting her out is—"
The Matriarch's hand rose, and an invisible force slammed Haoki back into his chair like a puppet with severed strings.
Silence descended—dead, pale, and ominous as a funeral shroud.
Then another hand tentatively rose. The Matriarch's attention shifted to the figure.
The man possessed a disarmingly warm smile—the kind that could stop hearts mid-beat. Soft white hair, tousled by habit rather than wind, framed his face in a halo of pale light. Behind round spectacles, traces of amusement danced in eyes half-hidden by his perpetual grin.
"Much as I despise agreeing with anyone... you might consider his words, Odelia."
"Matriarch."
He chuckled softly.
"Forgive me—old habits die hard, Matriarch. But perhaps banishing Eki is... hasty. She represents countless resources and effort. Your second protégé, who actually surpassed the first. Why discard her over a single mistake?"
The Matriarch's gaze dropped momentarily. The man settled back into his seat.
Then she lifted her head, eyes glittering like shards of ice.
"You remain beautifully tactless, Saar. I don't fault you—we have history, after all, and I've always known you were a silver-tongued snake. My decision stands. If you take issue with it, I can arrange your banishment as well."
Saar raised his hands in mock surrender, smile never wavering.
The Matriarch's attention returned to White Snake with surgical precision.
"You are stripped of your position, Eki. If this family means anything to you, I'll be awaiting your redemption."
She reclined into her chair with feline grace, crossing one leg elegantly over the other.
"Leave this meeting. Now that you're no longer in the clan, you have no place in our discussion."
Lucreatia rose slowly, her head bowed in deference.
"Thank you, High Matron."
She turned and walked toward the wall. Her section parted like curtains, revealing stairs that spiraled into darkness below.
Moments later, she emerged from a tower planted in the heart of an endless desert. She cast one final glance at the ivory spire that pierced the heavens like a bone-white needle, then looked away forever.
A thunderous scowl darkened her features as she stared into the wasteland ahead. Her fists clenched with bone-crushing force, teeth grinding so savagely that veins surfaced along her neck like lightning strikes.
"Player Cien... everyone else may covet you. But I swear I'm the only one who doesn't. Instead, I'm going to transform your existence in this game into a waking nightmare."
Her vow dissolved into transformation as she became a lethal white serpent that carved through the desert sand with predatory grace. Within moments, she plunged into the earth and erupted with a sandworm twice her length writhing in her coils.
As the White Snake wound herself around her prey, her body stretched and expanded. Under the merciless sun, her alabaster scales blazed like scattered diamonds. She constricted with the ruthless precision of a garrote wire. Blood burst from the worm's segmented hide in violent spurts—like crushing a water balloon with merciless hands.
The sandworm detonated in a gruesome fountain of obsidian gore. The White Snake burrowed back into the ground and continued her journey.