novelraw Chapter 1309: Which Side Are You?
Chapter 1309: Which Side Are You?
In the council chamber of the Ouroboros clan, Atrum’s voice echoed with a heavy, solemn finality.
"I have chosen our clan’s fate in the coming war," he declared, his gaze sweeping over the gathered elders, his wife, Lady Kalani, and their daughter, Esmeralda.
Lady Kalani lifted her chin, a single brow arched in question. "Paradise?" she asked. "It would be the logical path, after all."
But instead of answering, Atrum slipped his hand into the sleeve of his robe and produced a small, gleaming object—the Returning Jade Stone. Its surface shimmered with an ethereal light, unmistakable to all who saw it.
"This is my decision," Atrum replied quietly.
Esmeralda’s eyes widened as they fixated on the stone, and murmurs rose among the elders. Lady Kalani’s expression shifted from questioning to startled understanding. "Empyrean?" she breathed, her brows rising.
One elder stood, his face etched with disbelief. "But Patriarch—how could any force compare to Paradise?"
Another elder, younger but no less vocal, shook his head. "Paradise has always been a blustered display of power—more show than substance."
Lady Kalani listened to the murmuring voices, her gaze flickering over the assembled leaders. Some seemed rooted in disbelief, others lured by the promise of rebellion. Atrum’s choice unsettled the ranks. Yet, for all the doubt and surprise in the room, she felt a flicker of fierce pride.
"Only the best ascend to Paradise," another elder argued, frowning. "How could we stand against that realm? The strongest among us have never matched their forces, and they hold the heavens in their hands."
"But did any of you see how Emperor Lyon humiliated their seraph?" a more seasoned elder interjected. "And then again in the Fifth Heaven, where he obliterated not one but two higher seraphs!"
Atrum lifted his hand, calling for silence, and the room stilled as all eyes fixed on him.
"I understand your hesitation," he said, his tone deep and unwavering. "You are right to question, for this is no light decision. I will not force you to follow the path I’ve chosen. But there is something you must know."
He paused, his gaze steady as it swept the room, then continued, "In my council with the other five clans, we encountered an uninvited guest. No—’guest’ is too light a word. She belonged there. Empress Cecile of Empyrean had joined us."
The council erupted into gasps, shock rippling through the room like a tide.
"How could that be?" one elder whispered, disbelief etched on his face. "That is sacred ground."
"Precisely," Atrum replied, his voice laced with conviction. "The chamber is sacred. How could she enter that chamber—without permission, without detection—if she wasn’t one of us? She took her seat, the seventh seat. And when she did, the arena transformed before our eyes."
He gestured, as if to bring the memory of that room alive for them. "The arena was shaped into a heptagon, and the seventh statue was restored. The seventh seat—belonged to Lyon Torga, the Zodiac Emperor of Empyrean." His words rang out, and a fierce, determined light ignited in his gaze. "We were never meant for Paradise, my friends. We were part of something far greater—Empyrean. The gathering of the six clans? That was not a design of Paradise. It was a vision of the Zodiac Emperor himself, Lyon Torga."
The room fell into a deep silence as the full weight of his words settled over them. Atrum’s voice softened, but it lost none of its strength.
"Our founders—the progenitors of each clan—knew this truth. It was Paradise who buried it, hiding our true allegiance under layers of pomp and power. But today, we remember. We remember that our origins, our purpose, and our destiny lie with Empyrean."
And with that, Atrum’s gaze moved over every face in the room, daring any to oppose him, but knowing, in the profound silence, that his words had struck their mark.
"Now, for the time being, I will go to Empyrean and declare our allegiance," Atrum said, his voice calm yet resolute. With a firm grip, he crushed the Returning Jade Stone between his fingers.
In an instant, a soft green light seeped from his hand, wrapping around him in an ethereal glow. Before the council’s astonished eyes, Atrum’s form shimmered, shifting into pure jade light that sparkled with an intense brilliance. The radiant figure held for a moment, like a beacon in the council chamber, before streaking upward, piercing through the ceiling and vanishing into the sky above.
The room was left in silence, filled with the lingering energy of Atrum’s departure. Lady Kalani held her head high, and Esmeralda’s gaze lingered on the spot where her father had been. Around them, the elders watched with a mix of awe and trepidation, knowing that their clan’s fate was now bound to Empyrean.
Atrum opened his eyes, and the glint of polished stone met him. He lowered his gaze, taking in the paved ground stretching before him and the statue that dominated the serene plain. It was unmistakable—a statue of Lyon himself, reclining lazily on a throne, carved out of an ore so rare that Atrum’s breath caught.
"Heavenly Prism?" he murmured, gulping. He looked up, scanning a sky completely void of clouds, boundless and ethereal. This place was far removed from the chaos he had left behind in Sixth Heaven; it was calm, almost reverent in its stillness.
"I see you’ve chosen your side," came a steady voice.
Atrum turned to find a figure standing nearby, dressed in a meticulously tailored butler’s uniform adorned with the unmistakable insignia of Empyrean. The man’s eyes were sharp, and his posture demanded respect without a single word spoken.
"And you are...?" Atrum asked, his voice softening instinctively.
"Assid," the man replied, bowing slightly. "One of the Six Pillars of Empyrean. Please, follow me."
Atrum hesitated for just a moment, then fell in step behind Assid. As they moved through the vast garden, Atrum’s eyes widened, taking in the lush flowers in every hue, trees bursting with life, and the air that carried a faint scent of renewal. It was a world away from the rigid decorum of Paradise.
"Sir Assid, where am I exactly?" Atrum asked, unable to mask his awe.
"This is the main park of Empyrean," Assid replied without missing a step.
Atrum blinked. "You mean to say... this isn’t the palace?"
"Correct," Assid replied smoothly. "This is where children once played, adults gathered to exchange ideas, scholars shared wisdom, and warriors trained or dueled to settle their disputes. If you look closely, you’ll even find an arena hidden within the gardens."
Atrum followed Assid’s gesture and caught sight of an arena just beyond the grove of flowering trees. He swallowed, glancing around in wonder. "What about nobles? Where do they live?"
"There are no nobles here," Assid replied, his gaze steady. "Only the royals."
"No nobles? But what about political structures? The... governance?"
"Empress Cecile, the War Empress, presides over the empire herself. And we," he adjusted his glasses, the brief flash of his keen eyes catching Atrum off-guard, "the Six Pillars, aid her with the utmost loyalty."
"Incredible..." Atrum murmured before shaking his head. "How could such a history would be lost to us?"
Assid gave a slight, knowing smile. "Worry not. When this war is over, they will know both fear and respect for the true Empyrean."
Their path led to a grand building, its facade proudly bearing an insignia of a man with his arms crossed—the unmistakable mark of Lyon Torga. Assid gestured to the towering doors ahead.
"Please, wait inside with the others," he said.
"Others?" Atrum began, but Assid had already vanished, his exit as swift as it was silent.
Atrum’s eyes scanned the magnificent council room, taking in the elegant tapestries that lined the walls, each one chronicling battles, empires, and the triumphs of Empyrean. Beauty and power exuded from every inch of the chamber, and the air held an almost tangible weight, as though the past lives and legacies within the Empyrean walls themselves were welcoming him to something much larger than a simple alliance.
He shifted his gaze to the lone figure standing at the other end of the room, his posture poised and a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Took you long enough," Alistair said, his tone as calm as if he had been expecting Atrum all along.
Atrum let out a low chuckle, crossing the chamber toward him. "Well, I never imagined you’d outrun me in making a decision, Alistair. You’ve always been swift, but I see you’ve gained even more than just speed with that blade of yours."
Alistair’s eyes twinkled with quiet confidence. "Some choices are simply...inevitable." He paused, glancing around at the room’s imposing grandeur. "All the questions I have about the Gathering of The Six, the seventh seat, the seventh statue, the heptagon; Everything leads to him, but I need one final proof."
Atrum frowned, "And what is that?"
"You will see soon enough," said Alistair crossing his arms looking at the empty main council table.