291. Universal Conclusion
Sundar Valley, Hidden Path of the Chain-Heart, Somewhere in the Kingdom of Sundravan, Western Continent.
The air in the sanctum was heavy with the stench of ozone and scorched mana. Where the shimmering Doors had once stood, there was now only a jagged, flickering distortion in space. The escape of the Otherworlder and her companions had left the Cult’s grand theater in ruins.
“The Doors have stopped functioning, Your Divinity,” one of the cult members reported, his voice trembling as he stood before the dead archway. He ran a gloved hand over the cold stone, checking the inscriptions on flowers. “The connection has been severed at the root. It cannot be fixed. We will have to start over from the beginning to get more doors deployed across the Eastern Continent."
The Witch, seated upon a throne of obsidian perched atop a flight of jagged stairs, didn't look up immediately. She was staring intently at an invisible, holographic-like book that hovered before her, its pages flickering with an eerie, violet light that only she could see.
“I see,” she murmured, her voice a silk-wrapped blade. “I shall consult Master on the matter.”
She stood up, her long robes trailing behind her like a shadow, and began walking toward the center of the chamber. The giant, fleshy heart hung suspended by thick, rusted chains. It beat with a slow, wet thud-thud that vibrated through the floorboards. As she approached, the muscular wall of the heart tore itself open, revealing a pulsating, dark orifice. Without hesitation, she stepped inside.
Once through, the physical world vanished. She stood in a vast, silent void where time and space seemed to lose all meaning. The Witch dropped to her knees, bowing her head deeply. A monotone voice, devoid of any human emotion, boomed directly inside her mind.
“So... the Otherworlder escaped?” the Absolute Being asked.
The Witch nodded, her forehead nearly touching the invisible floor. “I believe the Otherworlder’s attunement level with the Universal Origin is currently lower than my own attunement level with the Universal Conclusion,” she said, still looking at the holographic book that followed her into the void.
“Hmm.” The sound echoed like a tectonic plate shifting.
“For our plan to reach its final stage, we require both the Universal Origin and the Universal Conclusion,” the Witch continued. “But given that she has become the Master of the Universal Origin... we cannot kill her.”
She tightened her grip on her robes, her voice growing more determined. “Therefore, I intend to shift all my efforts toward her dukedom. I will tear down everything she has built and kidnap those she holds dear and force her to assign me as the new host.”
“Her attunement level is not yet high enough for her to designate a new Master for the Universal Origin,” the Absolute Being’s voice boomed with enough force to make her soul vibrate. “How do you intend to circumvent that?”
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The Witch let out a shaky breath, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. “I... I will force her to attune. I will push her until she has no choice but to embrace the Origin fully.”
“Let her be.” The Absolute Being’s command took her completely aback.
“What? I... I don’t understand, Master,” the Witch asked, her voice small.
“Attunement must occur naturally,” the voice explained, cold and final. “Otherwise, the power will reject the host. I have not willingly interfered with you for that very reason. If she is forced to attune before she is ready, it will backfire, killing the host instantly. That is not an outcome we can afford before she is capable of designating you as the new owner of the Origin.”
The Witch swallowed hard, the weight of the cosmic gamble pressing down on her. “I understand. Then... for now, I shall prioritize capturing the Saintess. We will take Marie Leon and keep her until the preparations for your revival are complete. Without the Saintess, the Otherworlder’s ‘Attunement’ will crumble.”
“Proceed,” the Master commanded, and the void began to dissolve.
The Witch returned to the physical world, her eyes burning with a new, focused cruelty.
Solarius Grand Pavilion, Imperial Palace, Capital City, Ancorna Empire
The Imperial Capital of Ancorna remained a bastion of gilded traditions, seemingly insulated from the shifting tides of the world. Within the mirrored walls of the Solarius Grand Pavilion, the annual Mid-Summer Banquet was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers, powered by the finest flowers the Empire could buy, cast a warm, unwavering glow over hundreds of nobles dressed in suffocatingly heavy silks and velvets.
Duke Morgen moved through the crowd like a predator in a velvet coat. To the casual observer, he was merely another high-ranking noble enjoying the vintage wines and the rhythmic pulse of the string quartet. But to those who watched the political currents, Morgen was a man fishing in troubled waters.
He came to a halt beside a small circle of influential lords, including Marquis Valerius, a man whose family controlled the mining guilds in the Empire.
"A toast to the Emperor's health," Duke Morgen said, his voice a smooth baritone that commanded immediate attention. He raised a glass of deep crimson wine not a local vintage, but a rare import that whispered of his growing wealth.
"And to the stability of the realm," Marquis Valerius replied, though his eyes remained skeptical. "Though stability seems a far-fetched dream with Prince Landon's rebellion still festering and the successor’s seat still vacant. Tell me, Duke Morgen, why is it that you seem so... untroubled? Your territories border the Conley Empire’s relentless attacks right?"
Morgen chuckled, a sound of genuine amusement. "Rumors are the currency of the bored, Marquis. What I see is not a threat, but an opportunity. You’ve all seen the new glasswork hitting the high-end markets in the capital, haven't you? Clearer than diamond, lighter than air, and produced at a fraction of the cost of the Ancornan Guild's artisan pieces."
A few of the surrounding nobles nodded, their interest piqued. The influx of high-quality goods from the Kim City had been the talk of the merchant guilds for months.
"That glass comes from the Kim Dukedom," Morgen continued, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The very place we all thought was a death sentence for Princess Ravenna. It seems the 'Raven' has a talent for industry that we all vastly underestimated."
"You’re suggesting we align ourselves with an exile, now that we no longer have Prince Nolan to back?" a Count from the Western Marches scoffed, fanning himself. "The Emperor sent her there to rot. Siding with her is a gamble with the hangman’s noose."
"Is it?" Duke Morgen countered, his eyes flashing with a sharp, calculating light. "The Imperial treasury is straining under the weight of Landon’s rebellion and the rising costs of the Solious Church’s 'protection.' Meanwhile, Ravenna Solarius is sitting on a tax-exempt goldmine, producing technology that makes our current mages look like children playing with sticks.."