Max's eyes flickered with interest.
While he didn't know Azula personally, he recognized two figures standing among the Monarch's ranks.
Five and Veylin.
Their presence confird it.
She wasn't just any mber of the Monarch.
She was high-ranking. Respected. Feared.
Yet—his curiosity deepened.
Who was she really?
Just as Max was analyzing her, he noticed soone stepping forward.
King Magnar.
The air shifted imdiately.
Tension crackled in the space between them as the ruler of the West Region walked directly toward Azula.
His voice was cold. Uncompromising. Absolute.
"You are in no position to do anything here."
It wasn't a request.
It was a command.
His words left no room for argunt.
A clear warning.
Yet—Azula rely smiled.
Her golden eyes glead with amusent.
"Don't worry."
Her voice was light. Unbothered.
Then—she turned away from him entirely.
Her gaze landed on the twelve-layered Infernal Demon Door.
"I am not planning to do anything here anyway."
She ran a hand over the air in front of the door, as if already visualizing what lay beyond it.
"I also want to enter the Mourning Depths. Just like all of you."
Before King Magnar could respond, another voice cut through the air.
Palace Master Hugh.
His eyes were sharp, his tone strict. Authoritative.
"Then you should stay put until the entrance opens."
A heavy silence followed.
Then—his next words carried even more weight.
"I don't want a ruckus in my palace."
For a brief mont, everyone waited.
Would she listen? Or would she escalate?
Azula's lips curled.
She let out a soft sneer.
"Heh."
But—she didn't say anything else.
She simply stood there, an eerie smirk still on her face.
And yet—even in silence, her presence alone was suffocating.
The atmosphere in the hall changed completely.
Every expert from the Valora Continent beca tense. Alert. Watching her every move.
Why wouldn't they?
Her na alone was enough to make entire armies tremble.
A Na Drenched in Blood.
The Monarch was known for destruction. Conquest. Power.
And their leader, Young Monarch, was feared for his strength. His dominance. His sheer power.
But Azula?
She wasn't feared for her strength.
She was feared for one reason only.
Cruelty.
Every city Monarch had slaughtered.
Every massacre. Every land they had decimated.
Every million they had butchered.
It was Azula who had led those assaults.
It was Azula who had painted the ground red with blood.
The air was thick with tension.
A silent, unspoken war waged beneath the surface.
No one moved. No one spoke unnecessarily.
All eyes were locked on Azula.
It was almost surreal.
Max had seen many powerful figures before, but never had he seen an entire hall—filled with the strongest experts of the Lower Domain—this on edge.
Even the leaders of the regions, the guild masters, the super family heads—all of them were watching her like a ticking ti bomb.
'Is she really that dangerous?'
He was surprised.
But not overly concerned.
'I guess I can only wait here.'
Yet—there was sothing else bothering him.
He was standing beside Aurelia.
And he didn't like it.
Not one bit.
The uncomfortable closeness made his mood dip.
But the funny thing?
Even Aurelia, soone who would normally never let him be near Alice, wasn't making a move.
She couldn't.
Not now. Not in front of everyone. Not with the hall frozen in an invisible deadlock.
So—Max did sothing amusing.
Since he was already here, he started talking to Alice.
Casually. Freely.
Right in front of Aurelia.
She was glaring at him.
He could feel it.
Her sharp, cold stare practically burning into his back.
But he?
He simply ignored her.
Kept talking with Alice as if nothing was wrong.
As if he had all the ti in the world.
And just like that—ti slipped away.
One hour passed.
The tension in the room remained, but sothing was about to change.
The Mourning Depths would soon open.
The old man returned, stepping forward with an unshakable presence.
His eyes swept across the gathered warriors, asuring them.
Then—he spoke.
"If you are prepared, then I shall open the rune formation."
A hush fell over the hall.
The ti had co.
The old man's voice remained steady.
"Everyone is limited to three months within the Mourning Depths."
A pause.
"If you do not erge after three months, then you will be trapped inside… until the next ti the rune formation opens."
A few warriors tensed.
This wasn't new information, but hearing it out loud—so formally—made it real.
Then—the old man's voice lowered slightly.
His next words carried a weight heavier than the rune formation itself.
"But… since ancient tis, if soone did not co out before three months…"
A sharp pause.
"They would completely vanish."
A ripple passed through the crowd.
Vanished?
Not trapped.
Not dead.
But completely gone.
Never found.
Never seen again.
A legend? A mystery? A curse?
No one knew.
"In these three months, please… keep this in mind."
Silence.
Then—the old man moved.
He reached into his spatial ring, pulling out three black glass beads.
Bone Fras.
Max's eyes narrowed.
He had seen them before.
Not long ago, Klaus had shown them to him and Callie, making sure they understood what they were dealing with.
And now—they were being used to open the gate.
The old man walked forward, his movents precise.
Near the entrance, small grooves were carved into the floor.
Barely noticeable—unless you knew where to look.
He inserted the Bone Fras into these grooves—
Click.
A perfect fit.
Max watched carefully.
There was sothing eerie about it.
The way the Bone Fras slid into place so perfectly.
The way they seed to pulse faintly, as if recognizing their purpose.
The mont the three Bone Fras were inserted—
The earth trembled.
A deep, ancient rumbling shook the entire hall.
The very ground beneath their feet seed alive, responding to an unseen force.
Then—
Space twisted.
Just ahead, the air itself distorted, as if sothing was ripping through reality.
A mont later—
Space lted away.
A gate—not made of tal, nor stone, nor energy—but sothing far more esoteric and unnatural—opened in the void.
A spatial rift.
Beyond the gate, an expanse of endless gray mist stretched into infinity.
A realm where shadows twisted without shape.
Where the very air seed thick with death.
Max felt it imdiately.
A gate had opened before him—but not just a physical one.
Sothing deeper. Esoteric. Ancient.
Then—
A boundless, pure surge of death energy erupted from the rift.
It was cold. Suffocating. Heavy.
Not just the presence of death.
But sothing older than civilizations.
Sothing that had existed before even the oldest beings of the Lower Domain.
Max's chest tightened slightly, not from fear—but from sheer oppression.
It was like standing before the remains of an extinct god.
Then—a voice echoed in his thoughts.
A voice he hadn't heard in a while.
"So it's this place… I… I've been here before."
Max's eyes widened slightly.
Blob.
"Oh?" Max's mind imdiately honed in. "You've been here before?"
It was unexpected—but it made sense.
Blob's master had lived tens of thousands of years ago.
If anyone had explored the Mourning Depths before, it was him.
Blob's voice carried a rare hint of nostalgia.
"I rember a little, but not too much. It was over ten thousand years ago, after all."
A pause.
"Master spent over forty years inside this place… searching for a way to break into the Divine Rank. That was just before he broke into the Five God Nation for revenge."
Max stiffened.
"Forty years?"
His mind raced.
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