Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1267: The Name Surfaced

The streets outside the clinic center were buzzing with whispers and hurried footsteps. The usual flow of city life was interrupted by the sudden arrival of two gravely injured men, their bodies battered and barely conscious as they were rushed into the clinic. A small crowd had gathered, exchanging curious and hushed speculations.

"Did you see the state of them?" a vendor whispered to her customer, eyes wide with shock. "Those men looked like they barely made it!"

"Looked like they got hit by a beast, no?" another chimed in, shaking his head. "Their backs...torn right off. I’ve never seen anything like it."

"Wings? Seraphs, you mean?" a woman gasped, clutching her child closer. "I heard they were part of some elite order from Paradise. Who could have done that to them?"

"Whoever did," muttered a blacksmith, leaning against his forge, "had no fear of Paradise. You don’t just mess with Seraphs and walk away unscathed."

A young boy tugged on his mother’s sleeve, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Do you think it was a monster?"

"No, boy," an elderly man grunted, leaning on his cane. "Monsters don’t rip apart Seraphs like that. That’s the work of someone...or something far more dangerous."

A trader, leaning in closer, whispered, "I heard it was a cultivator... and not just any cultivator—someone from out of town. You know what they say about strangers..."

"A cultivator?" the vendor raised an eyebrow. "I thought only gods and seraphs could fight each other on that level."

"The rumors have been swirling since morning," another added. "Whoever it was, they’re powerful. And they’re here, in this city."

The crowd exchanged uneasy glances, the sense of mystery thick in the air.

"Mark my words," the blacksmith said grimly, "this won’t be the last we hear of this. Someone powerful has just made a move, and the whole of Heaven will know it soon."

The head of the Ouroboros Clan rushed into the main room, his wife following closely behind. His breath caught at the sight before him—the three most revered physicians in the realm, their faces pale with concern. It was the first time he had ever seen them share the same anxious look. His daughter, Esmeralda, stood in a corner, her expression unreadable. But it was the two bodies lying on the clinic beds that seized his full attention.

He furrowed his brows and moved toward the physicians. "How are they?" he demanded.

The eldest physician, Garrick, shook his head gravely. "They are beyond saving, Clan Head. They may still breathe, but... no cure could restore their cultivation level."

The second physician, Fenwick, sighed deeply, "Their meridians, sir, have been shattered—no, obliterated—beyond belief. It’s as if an elephant stomped on an ant and then ground it into the dirt."

"But these men," Isla, the youngest of the three physicians, spoke in disbelief, "they aren’t ants. They’re Seraphs. They were supposed to be untouchable."

The head of the Ouroboros Clan felt a chill run down his spine. His eyes moved toward the two victims once more, studying their wounds. The gashes where their wings had once been... clearly torn apart, by hand.

The two Seraphs trembled uncontrollably, their faces contorted in pure horror. Their once bright, arrogant eyes were now blank, their lips mumbling incoherently as if speaking to some unseen terror. Their hands shook as they tried to grasp their reality, but nothing made sense to them anymore.

Esmeralda, watching this pitiful scene, stepped forward cautiously. "Is there anything we can do for them?" Her voice held a trace of urgency, as if hoping for a sliver of hope amidst the chaos.

Garrick, the eldest of the three physicians, shook his head, his expression heavy. "Nothing, young lady. Not even a miracle could mend this level of devastation."

Isla rubbed her temples, exasperated. "This level of destruction is... it’s inconceivable. Not to Seraphs. No curse, no potion, no acupuncture could ever... well..." she hesitated before adding, "Maybe a Life Element Cultivator could stabilize them, but even that’s a long shot."

Fenwick, the third physician, chimed in with a somber tone. "No Life Element Cultivator can reverse this. Their meridians are beyond repair... unless..." he trailed off, as if dreading to even speak the words.

"Unless?" Esmeralda pressed.

Fenwick hesitated, then sighed. "Only the tears of the Immortal Phoenix could—"

Before he could finish, both Seraphs suddenly let out blood-curdling shrieks. "Eeek!!" Their piercing screams sent chills through the room, echoing against the walls. They jumped out of their beds, their noble grace entirely shattered. They scrambled into a corner, huddling together, knees drawn to their chests as they shook uncontrollably. Their wings, now torn and mangled, twitched involuntarily as they hid their faces, terrified beyond words.

The room fell into a shocked silence, only broken by their frantic whispers and soft sobbing. No one dared move, stunned by the sudden outburst.

"By the heavens..." muttered Garrick, his face pale as he watched them in disbelief. "What could have driven Seraphs to this state?"

Lady Kalani, catching the Seraphs’ reactions, stepped forward with a calm, deliberate stride. Her dark robe seemed to glide across the floor, and the room’s tension thickened. Her commanding presence alone silenced the frantic murmurs as she approached the cowering Seraphs. Her eyes locked onto their trembling forms.

"Immortal Phoenix," she said, her voice low and piercing.

Both Seraphs shrieked at the name. One of them, still curled up behind his knees, began to beg frantically, his voice cracking with fear. "P-Please, I won’t do it again! Spare us, spare us!"

Gasps erupted from those in the room, a mixture of disbelief and shock. The once-mighty Seraph, reduced to a state of sheer terror, was now pleading for his life like a frightened child. Lady Kalani’s gaze remained cold and unyielding.

Isla, her voice shaking slightly, whispered, "Their meridian cores are gone beyond repair... They’re more mortal now than we are."

Garrick frowned, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it. "But their state needs a release," he muttered. "With their meridians shattered, such incredible pure mana should have burst out. We should have noticed an explosion of energy... but there was nothing."

The room grew still as everyone exchanged uneasy glances. The fact that such power had simply vanished, without any trace, defied everything they knew.

"Where was the reaction?" Garrick asked, his voice barely a whisper now. "It’s impossible... how did such pure mana dissipate without a single ripple?"

Lady Kalani narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing as she considered the Seraphs in front of her. "This isn’t a simple case of power being destroyed. Something — or someone — must have absorbed it. Their defeat wasn’t just brutal... it was precise." She turned to her husband. "This wasn’t just about breaking their meridians; it was about erasing their divine nature entirely."

The Seraphs continued to sob quietly, powerless and broken, as the weight of their situation settled over the room like a dark cloud.

"Thank you for your services, but please leave the room," the Head of the Ouroboros Clan said, his voice steady but laced with exhaustion.

The three physicians exchanged glances, bowing respectfully before quietly exiting the chamber. The moment the door closed behind them, the room seemed heavier, the air thick with tension. Esmeralda had never seen her father so unsettled before. He rubbed his temple, a rare display of vulnerability that sent a ripple of unease through her.

"How should I approach this..." he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze fell on the trembling Seraphs, their divine presence reduced to something pitiful. "If Paradise knows about this..." He trailed off, the weight of the potential consequences looming large in his mind.

"Oh dear," Lady Kalani, ever composed, stepped forward and placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder, trying to offer some solace. "We will figure this out. Together."

Esmeralda stood silently off to the side, her mind racing. Her father’s words echoed in her ears, but she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling gnawing at her insides. She had a hunch — one she didn’t want to confront. But the evidence was clear. The brutality, the precision, the unmistakable power behind the Seraphs’ downfall... It all pointed to one person. Someone who operated outside the bounds of conventional strength, someone who could face the divine and walk away victorious.

Her eyes flicked toward the window, where the distant tempest had only just begun to settle. Lyon. The name surfaced in her thoughts, and with it, a shiver of fear. She knew who did this, but admitting it to herself felt like stepping into a realm of the unknown, where power and wrath blurred the lines of mortal and divine.

---

In the vast grand training hall of the Empyrean Empire’s palace, the space stretched so wide it could easily fit ten thousand people. Yet, despite its size, the room felt dense with power. Two colossal spheres of mana hovered in the center, pulsating with raw energy, casting a radiant glow across the chamber.

At the heart of this spectacle, Cecile sat cross-legged on a floating platform, her eyes shut tight in deep concentration. Her hands rested on her knees as she steadily absorbed the surging energy. Across from her, Selena mirrored her pose, the usual calm in her face replaced with intense focus. Her silver hair swayed slightly as the mana orbited around her.

Jugen, Luna, and Lumina were also present, their bodies aligned in harmony with the rhythm of the mana surrounding them. Each one of them was immersed in their cultivation, striving to refine their strength.

Seated on the grand throne, Lyon casually reclined. Unlike the others who were absorbed in the process of cultivation, his demeanor was relaxed, almost carefree. The air around him buzzed with authority, his presence alone grounding the chaotic storm of energy in the room. Though the others were deep in their cultivation, there was a sense that Lyon was not just sitting idly. His mind was elsewhere, perhaps drifting back to the chaos he had left behind or anticipating the battles still to come. The throne, fitting for the Zodiac Emperor, was both a symbol of power and a reminder of the responsibilities that came with it.