Ti lost all aning. Eventually, Orion opened his eyes again.
"I see."
Through the silent resonance of his bloodline, Orion had downloaded the entire context surrounding Kaelen.
He approved.
Kaelen's desire to hunt down Arch Lord Eric wasn't just understandable; it was necessary. It reminded Orion of his own vendetta against Reynard after the murder of his sister, Clyne.
So stains could only be washed away with blood. So humiliations demanded a personal reckoning.
Once Kaelen kills Eric, it will be ti to bring him and his mother ho, Orion decided.
If Kaelen succeeded, he would have proven himself. He would have forged himself in the fires of adversity in a way that Kronos and Pallas never had. If Caelus was the prodigy Orion admired, Kaelen was the survivor Orion respected.
"He deserves a bigger battlefield," Orion murmured, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile. "He deserves the resources to burn and the space to grow."
Orion drifted back into the deep slumber of divinity, his mind finally at peace.
Silverwood Realm, Current's Bend
The air was thick with tension.
Outside the free city of Atlantis, dozens of warships bobbed on the waves, their decks bristling with armored knights and Sea Race warriors. But the ships weren't the real threat. Behind the armada, sothing massive lurked beneath the surface, occasionally breaking the water to release a low, vibrating growl that shook the hulls of nearby vessels.
It was the Sacred Beast of the Cult of Four—Pontiff Valerius's personal pet.
Inside the deep palace of Atlantis, two factions sat opposite each other.
On the left sat the hosts: Leonidas, the First Grand Marshal, wearing magnificent robes with dragon horns crowning his head; the Abyssal Dreadfin Orion, in his half-human, half-beast form; and Kraken, with a massive octopus resting atop his head like a living crown.
Together, they looked like a tableau of primal nightmares—a trio of monsters barely contained by human furniture.
On the right sat the guests: The Clown, Valerius, Yriel, the Witch, and the Mysterious Demigod.
The five leaders of the Cult of Four appeared in human form, projecting no overt aura of oppression. Yet, every citizen in Atlantis could feel the weight of their presence. The Cult had arrived, and they had brought the storm with them.
Despite the overwhelming odds, Leonidas slamd his hand on the table, staring Valerius dead in the eye.
"We can submit. We can join the Cult of Four," Leonidas declared, his voice booming. "But here are the terms: We want dominion over the entire Moon Sea. And we demand a position higher than the High Priestess."
He leaned forward, baring his teeth in a grin that was all predator. "We want real power. Don't try to buy us off with empty titles."
It was a lion's demand. Swallowing the entire Moon Sea? It was madness. If the Cult agreed, the three brothers would instantly beco superpowers.
But the Pontiffs weren't fools.
"Grand Marshal, you overreach," Pontiff Valerius replied smoothly, his tone unruffled. "If we give you the entire Moon Sea, the Cult gains nothing from this war. I cannot agree to that. My allies won't agree. My subordinates won't agree."
Valerius was the face of the negotiation. The Clown and the others sat in silence, mirroring Orion and Kraken. This was a ga of Kings and Generals.
"Give us the Moon Sea, and Atlantis will pay tribute," Leonidas countered. "But the Sea Race must govern these waters. We will not be slaves you whistle for when you need bodies for your wars."
It was a classic negotiation tactic: demand the impossible to anchor the conversation, then haggle down to what you actually wanted. Leonidas was using the "sanctity" of Atlantis's autonomy as a bargaining chip to test the Cult's limits.
"One quarter," Valerius said, raising four fingers. He had finally drawn a line in the sand. "You can have autonomy over one quarter of the sea, provided you pay tribute."
"One quarter?" Leonidas threw his head back and laughed. "Pontiff Valerius, are you joking? Do you think Atlantis is weak?"
"Current's Bend alone is practically a third of the Moon Sea!" Leonidas roared.
He was lying, of course. Current's Bend was a massive bay, but it wasn't even one percent of the Moon Sea's total area. But Leonidas was conflating geography with politics—referring to the current tripartite balance of power in the region.
"Current's Bend is beautiful, and Atlantis is formidable," Valerius conceded, unfazed by the theatrics. "That is why we are here. But one third is our absolute limit."
Valerius watched the trio with genuine appreciation. Leonidas radiated the unmistakable aura of a Demigod. Orion, though currently presenting as an Arch Lord, had already destroyed the Clown's Demigod phantom, proving his true body was Divine. And the Witch spoke highly of Kraken.
If Valerius could secure the allegiance of the three Grand Marshals, the Cult would instantly gain two Demigod-level combatants. And more importantly, they would be indebted to him.
"Grand Marshal, before you refuse again," Valerius interjected as Leonidas opened his mouth to argue.
"One third is the limit for territory. The resources and personnel we've poured into the Moon Sea campaign are vast; the division of spoils is complex."
Valerius paused, letting the silence build. Then he played his ace.
"However, given the strength of Atlantis... we are prepared to make a special exception. We, the five of us, will jointly recomnd to His Grace that you, Grand Marshal Leonidas, be appointed as one of the Twelve Pontiffs of the Cult of Four."
Valerius smiled. "A real Pontiff. With a real seat at the table. Just like ."
The room went dead silent.
This was the turning point. Leonidas, Orion, and Kraken froze. They exchanged glances, eyes narrowing as they seed to communicate telepathically.
Valerius and the Clown leaned back, content to wait. They knew the weight of what they had just offered. They were willing to let the shock settle.
The bait had been taken. Now, they just had to wait for the hook to set.
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