"Dia'Tia won't be pleased with this," Ezmelral remarked, her silver eyes surveying the barren landscape. It was difficult to discern which of the drifting ashes were remnants of Karthix.
"Remember, Dia'Tia was once a general. She understands that when the sword is drawn, innocence becomes a luxury. Only those who obstruct the path remain."
As the Storm Dragon observed Raiking's complete indifference, a chill crept along his spine. Though the Dragon was no exemplar of virtue, Raiking's reasoning served as a stark reminder: gods and mortals exist in entirely separate realms. Where a mortal might see the tragic end of a formidable lineage, the God of Death merely sees an account being settled.
Whether Dia'Tia would view this as necessity or sheer brutality remained to be seen.
"And what of the Demon King?" the Storm Dragon inquired, his deep voice slicing through the silence.
Raiking did not answer immediately. Instead, he gazed at the moon, its pale light mirrored in his void-black eyes, before speaking into the emptiness.
"Show yourself."
A menacing, multilayered laugh resonated through the Northern Demon Region in response. The ground beneath them quaked, reacting to the eerie vibrations of the voice.
"Nothing escapes your notice, Ancestor," the source of the laughter replied.
For a fleeting moment, the moon glowed a faint purple. In an instant, Raiking, Ezmelral, and the Storm Dragon were no longer alone.
The Demon King materialized before them, clad in a flowing robe of darkness, his face obscured by the shadows of his hood.
Yet, considering his demeanor, one might question whether this was truly the fearsome ruler of the demons. His stance was not that of an enraged King confronting an intruder who had just decimated one of his realm's most notorious clans. Instead, he was bowed in a deep, formal Eshaku, his hands clasped in profound respect toward Raiking.
"It has been some time since you have graced your domain," the Demon King softly greeted.
"You dare reduce my Master to a mere ruler of these feeble lands?!" the Storm Dragon roared, arcs of azure lightning violently dancing across his scales as he prepared to attack the hooded figure.
He didn't get the opportunity. Ezmelral gracefully stepped in front of the giant, extending her arm. She firmly shook her head, silently ordering him to stand down.
The Demon King ignored the blatant disrespect, his hidden focus remaining solely on Raiking.
"As I was saying... it's been a while since you visited Father and Mother's tomb. Will you not stop by?"
At first, Raiking didn't respond with words. He simply took a single step forward. In an instant, he defied the physical laws of distance, suddenly appearing directly beside the bowed Demon King.
"Next time, control your subordinates," Raiking declared, his voice devoid of any familial warmth. "Or there won't be a region left to govern."
With that final warning, Raiking disappeared, leaving the area entirely. Ezmelral followed immediately, her form dissolving into a blur of silver light as she soared through the sky. Lastly, the Storm Dragon issued a low, thunderous warning to the Demon King before transforming into a brilliant bolt of lightning, tearing through the clouds to follow his Master.
"Still as reserved as ever, I see," the Demon King murmured with a slight smile.
He slowly stood upright and extended his hand. The ambient mana in the air twisted, causing the floating dust of the courtyard to be drawn toward his palm. He absorbed the remnants of the fallen Silent Blade Clan without a hint of remorse, his hidden eyes fixed on the border of the Skyward Region, precisely where Raiking was headed.
---
[1 Hour Later - Azure Phoenix Tribe]
Prior to Raiking's departure to confront the Silent Blade Clan, the Phoenix Kin were a blend of anxiety and hope, stirred by their Queen's extraordinary display of True Divinity. Now, an hour later, following the daring decision by the Elders and Tribe Leaders to reveal the truth about the Phoenix Pearl, the tribe was not only revitalized; they felt an overwhelming, emotional sense of purpose.
The curse had been lifted. The Pearl Hunters posed no further threat. Children could now grow up in safety, and parents could look forward to witnessing their children's weddings. The news had spread swiftly across the Five Peaks, like a wildfire carried on the wings of a phoenix.
The tribe not only learned that Libinea had confronted the Divine Realm to vanquish the General responsible for the hunts, but they also recognized a profound transformation in their bloodline. The Phoenix Pearls' immortality-granting powers were now intrinsically tied to Phoenix DNA. Any outsider attempting to harvest and consume them would face instant annihilation by cosmic retribution.
They also learned the truth about the mysterious man she had brought back with her. He was her mentor—a secret master who had endowed her with Time Magic and guided her rise to the legendary stage of True Divinity.
As the village put the final, jubilant touches on the Phoenix Festival preparations, they now looked to the sky with anticipation rather than fear, awaiting Raiking's return.
Their wait was short. Raiking quietly appeared in the heart of the bustling plaza.
"There he is!"
"The Master!"
"Quick, inform the Elders!"
While the older generation approached him with slow, deep respect, a little girl was the first to break away from the crowd. She ran directly to the God of Death—the very figure who, moments earlier and unbeknownst to her, had decimated an entire empire of assassins for nearly making his daughter cry.
"Here," the little Phoenix offered, holding up a vibrant mountain flower. Her large, golden eyes looked at Raiking with pure innocence. "My big brother..." she continued, her lip quivering as tears threatened to fall, "...he was taken by the Pearl Hunters last winter. Thank you for avenging him."
"Seems you have a little admirer," Ezmelral teased softly, appearing beside him.
Raiking crouched down. His pale, bloodless hands—responsible for the deaths of millions over millennia—gently accepted the delicate flower with a warm, sincere smile.
"Thank you."
The little girl flushed deeply at Raiking's handsome, gentle demeanor, momentarily forgetting the sorrow of her brother's loss. Embarrassed by her own boldness, she quickly dashed off to hide behind her parents' legs.
Witnessing this tender interaction, the rest of the Phoenix Kin felt a profound wave of relief. This fearsome outsider was approachable. Their hesitant steps quickened, and soon, the trio was surrounded by the grateful tribe.
"Benefactor Raiking! We thank you so much," an elderly Phoenix woman wept, her eyes reflecting a deep, shared loss like that of the little girl's.
It wasn't just her. Everyone who approached to express their gratitude bore the same heavy, scarred look in their eyes. They began offering their own Phoenix Feathers—sacred, exceedingly rare items typically reserved for the Nirvana ritual or given as deeply personal gifts to close kin.
"Let him be."
A familiar, authoritative voice echoed through the plaza. The crowd immediately parted, bowing their heads to reveal Libinea approaching, holding a well-fed and content Faye in her arms.
"You've finally returned," the Queen smiled.
"Gaga!" Faye cheered, reaching her tiny hands toward her father.
Raiking nodded softly to Libinea, taking the baby into his arms. He began to escort them out of the crowded plaza toward the Queen's Shrine, while Ezmelral and a rather awkward, towering Storm Dragon were left behind to politely collect the mountain of sacred feathered gifts the villagers continued to offer.