novelraw Chapter 263 : Akxia: What Do You Mean by a Woman’s Sixth Sense
Chapter 263 : Akxia: What Do You Mean by a Woman’s Sixth Sense
Chapter 263: Akxia: What Do You Mean by a Woman’s Sixth Sense
Imperial Capital, Inner Districts.
Inside the luxurious palace complex, in a secluded, deserted room.
An elderly man of tall stature stood by the window, as if waiting for something.
Suddenly, he slightly turned his head, gazing toward a dim corner of the room.
A faint halo of light spread slowly from the ring on his finger, scanning directly over the corner shrouded in shadow.
Moments later, the old man spoke in an indifferent tone: “Have you obtained the token of the Lord of Twilight and the procedure for the ritual?”
As a Legendary figure within the Empire, and one who had held high position for a long time, he knew very well the tremendous risk behind what he was doing.
To secretly collude with the Gravekeepers and the Cult Group, and to plan a Descent of an Evil God within the Imperial Capital… this was truly the treason of attempting to overthrow the entire Empire.
Once exposed, whether it was Allen or the soon-to-be successor, the Holy Sword Wielder Shiltina, they would undoubtedly hunt him down to the ends of the earth, regardless of the cost.
Therefore, whenever he contacted the Gravekeepers and the Cult Group, he had acted with utmost caution.
Not only did he remain behind the scenes himself, but he also sent deathsworn soldiers—who had taken alchemical potions, and would die without the antidote in a matter of days, their lives entirely controlled in his hand.
Afterward, multiple layers of verification had been done… ensuring the traces of those deathsworn could never be detected by divination or prophetic powers.
“Reporting to my lord, the token and the specific requirements of the Descent ritual have been obtained.”
From the shadows came the respectful reply of the deathsworn.
Immediately after, a sculpture seemingly cast of bronze, its surface corroded with iron-like markings, quietly emerged from the darkness, and was reverently offered before the old man.
“It is indeed a contaminant of the Lord of Twilight.”
“If my perception has not erred, this Evil God Sculpture contains a most powerful spiritual force… it should be a wisp of divine thought left behind by the Lord of Twilight.”
The old man examined the Evil God Sculpture and gave a slight nod.
As a veteran Legendary, tempered by centuries of time, his spiritual power had already grown incomparably strong.
Yet the spiritual imprint lingering on that Evil God Sculpture, though minuscule in quantity, possessed a terrifyingly high quality. Even with his Legendary rank, he could not pierce through it.
Even the faintest probe of spiritual power raised in his heart an indescribable horror.
It was as if that place was a black hole that devoured light itself. Should he probe further, his very soul would be wholly assimilated and devoured.
In his knowledge, for a mere wisp of spiritual power to possess such an awe-inspiring rank… naturally, it could only belong to a mythic being, a true Evil God who had stepped into the Divine Realm.
No wonder—it was the true Evil God who had, in the Sixth Era, descended upon Deep Blue Port and unleashed the catastrophe known as the Iron Cross Plague.
His gaze turned again toward the deathsworn standing in the shadows: “And the specific procedure of the Descent ritual?”
“My lord, it seems… there is some discrepancy…”
For some reason, hesitation filled the voice of that deathsworn.
“Hm?” The old man was displeased with his subordinate’s wavering attitude and urged, “Speak quickly. What manner of conduct is this dithering?”
The deathsworn hesitated a moment longer before the shadows surged, carrying him to the old man’s side, where he whispered two sentences.
He had not yet finished when the old man’s stern gaze cut him off.
“Absurd! You have followed me this long, and yet you cannot even manage such a trifling task?”
The confidant faltered with hesitation: “But… this was indeed the command within the oracle of the Lord of Twilight.”
“Nonsense!” The black-robed elder gave a cold snort. “Tell me, whose sacred relic is this?”
“It is the Lord of Twilight’s…”
Because of the need to recite the prayer, this deathsworn naturally knew the sacred name and identity of the one being prayed to.
“Yes, you know well this is the same being who once wrought the Iron Cross Plague upon the Western Continent…”
“Renowned for cruelty, bloodlust, and savagery beyond humanity—this Evil God of Deep Blue Port, who created the Iron Cross, that polluted lifeform.”
The old man laughed coldly in anger. By now he had utterly lost trust in this deathsworn.
Even at the risk of leaving faint traces—risks that might not be erased cleanly—he resolved to verify matters personally.
With a sweep of his hand, he quickly retrieved the catalysts and materials required for the prayer ritual from his storage subspace, swiftly arranging a new ritual field.
Then, with reverent words, he spoke aloud.
“Exalted and great Lord of Twilight, ‘Serpent of Dawn and Dusk’—”
“In accordance with the pact with your chosen ones, I beseech you to grant the grace of Descent, to bestow upon us the sacred relic needed for your coming, and to reveal the preparations required for the ritual of your Descent.”
Yet in the next moment, his gaze froze in midair.
Because the pale-golden script that appeared silently in the air was exactly as the deathsworn had described.
“1. Take one thousand catties of lean pork, finely minced, and ensure not a trace of fat is mixed in…”
“2. Take one thousand catties of fatty pork…”
…
The old man’s gaze turned completely rigid.
Though a true Legendary, while he had never interacted much with the Lord of Twilight—the Evil God of Deep Blue Port who had caused the Iron Cross Plague of the Sixth Era—and had only heard scattered rumors,
he still possessed the most basic common sense.
And what was the Iron Cross?
According to intelligence gathered from the Nightworld, it was a creation that stripped all goodness and sincerity from the hearts of ordinary people, transforming them wholly into the purest lust for destruction and cruelty—reducing them to beasts with intelligence.
And as the master of the Iron Cross, the Evil God capable of birthing such abominations—though perhaps chastened now, and no longer so wanton as in the Sixth Era, granting believers at least the barest rationality—
the truth remained that a leopard never changed its spots.
Since it was supposed to be a Descent ritual, at the very least it should have demanded hundreds or thousands of humans as sacrifices. That would be fitting for a so-called “Evil God.”
Perhaps even an entire district, or half a city, offered in slaughter.
Indeed, he had already made preparations in advance, secretly mobilizing his loyal deathsworn to purchase from black markets and hidden bazaars, gathering a batch of prisoners and slaves in readiness for the ritual’s needs.
Yet here and now, those pale-golden words hovering in the air were so distinct, so clear, there was no possibility of mistake.
Buzz—
The crystalline stone vibrated, its sound resonating through the empty room.
The old man’s finger bore another ring, from which a clear magical brilliance spread out, diffusing through the entire room.
It was the highest-grade alchemical tool, engraved with runes meant to dispel hypnosis and illusions.
Yet even after more than ten seconds had passed, when the magical glow that dispelled illusions had fully faded, the words hanging in the air still showed no change at all.
“Actually, it is not entirely incomprehensible.”
He exhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down.
“After all, the Descent of a god is such an important matter—”
“This directly concerns the destiny of the entire Empire, and even the redistribution of faith across the entire Western Continent after the upheaval.”
“In the Sixth Era, because of unbridled arrogance and lack of restraint, the Iron Cross Plague was swiftly uncovered and suppressed by human civilization.”
“As the saying goes, suffering teaches wisdom. To become a deity is extraordinary indeed; such a being should not stumble at the same place twice.”
“To deliberately lower the threshold of the Descent ritual must be to enhance its secrecy, to avoid discovery by outsiders, and to prevent the plan from being disrupted.”
The old man pondered for a moment, feeling he had grasped the key point.
After all, so-called Descent rituals—the ritual part itself merely played a role akin to a guide.
In some sense, it was more a surface formality than the true substance.
In the end, to pierce the Threshold of Seraphim and the world barrier of the Present World, allowing the Evil God’s half-body to truly descend, the main power still had to come from the Lord of Twilight above the Threshold of Seraphim.
“My lord…”
At his side, the deathsworn hidden in the shadows watched his expression and cautiously asked,
“Then, shall we proceed with preparations according to these requirements for the Descent ritual?”
“To finely mince all that lean meat and fatty meat, soft cartilage, as well as ripe watermelons and unripe melons…?”
“That’s right. And you must be extremely strict in following the instructions—no speck of fat in the lean, no trace of lean in the fat… ripe and unripe melons must not be confused.”
“Understood.”
The deathsworn nodded with gravity: “I shall activate our network at once, and summon skilled chefs and butchers from within the Empire to prepare the mince.”
“Wait.”
The old man spoke, cutting him off: “The scale of these material requirements for the Descent ritual is too vast, and Her Highness Shiltina’s Coronation Ritual is scheduled for ten days from now.”
“The time is too tight, so we will need several hundred skilled chefs to prepare the ritual’s processes.”
“But if so many chefs were to suddenly disappear within the Empire, the disturbance would be far too great, and might cause unnecessary trouble…”
“Therefore, in the name of Prince Gulo, organize a chef’s competition. Announce that the prince’s residence is seeking to hire a new royal court chef, and invite all the renowned chefs of the Empire to participate in the assessment.”
“In this way, with thousands of chefs gathered in one place… we can blend the preparations for the Descent ritual among them, thus achieving concealment.”
“Understood.”
The old man looked at his subordinate not far away: “Remember, everything must be done in secret. The military and the Supervision Bureau must not notice a thing… especially not Ophelia and Allen.”
“You should know well what consequences will follow if this matter is exposed.”
“Of course.”
The deathsworn quickly nodded in response.
After all, both he and the old man understood clearly—this was a business punishable by beheading.
The deathsworn raised his head and carefully memorized the ritual’s requirements, each one written in pale-golden script in midair.
Before leaving, his steps faltered slightly at the doorway. He spoke with some hesitation.
“My lord, then what about those living sacrifices we secretly gathered through various channels to use for the blood sacrifice…”
“Erase their memories and send them back to where they came from.”
The old man thought for a moment before replying.
Though vast was the Granwell Empire’s territory, if hundreds or even thousands of people were to vanish suddenly, it would surely draw the attention of the military and the Supervision Bureau, those hounds.
As a Legendary who held high authority within the Empire, he was very clear what methods the Second Imperial Princess Ophelia and Allen possessed. Even these trivial details might stir their suspicion, and lead to the plan’s exposure.
Now that those sacrifices were of no use, it was only suitable to send them back exactly as they were.
“Remember, no lean in the fat, no fat in the lean. The same goes for cartilage, ripe melons, and unripe melons…”
“Yes.”
The deathsworn nodded respectfully, then melted into shadow, vanishing quietly into the corners where moonlight could not reach.
It could only be said that extraordinary beings of the Shadow Sequence were indeed born scouts and spies.
Yet neither the old man nor the deathsworn noticed.
Outside the window, in the dim moonlight, a furry snow ferret that looked harmless was silently watching.
When it saw the conversation conclude and the deathsworn depart, the ferret basking in the moonlight licked its paw with disinterest, flicked its tail, and stuffed a dried fish into its mouth.
…
“Sigh, to think I only came to play with Little Tina’s sister after so long, and ended up being assigned to tail her. Had I known, I wouldn’t have come out.”
“Forget it. The tailing is done anyway. From here on, it’s Allen the old fellow’s and Ophelia the young one’s problem, not mine.”
Dean Silver’s figure flickered in the moonlight and disappeared. In the next instant, it had already reappeared kilometers away.
As a wondrous animal of the “Moon” Sequence, just like the Lord of Twilight, the Serpent of Dawn and Dusk, who gained immense power at twilight—Dean Silver’s rank was also greatly amplified beneath the moonlight.
Although, in Dean Silver’s own words, it was a peace-loving creature that did not like to fight… at this moment, not even a true Legendary could have detected Dean Silver’s prying presence so close at hand.
“Sigh, being used as a tool ferret all day… finally, freedom. Next time I must complain to Little Tina, tell her that her sister completely ignores the Magical Beast Protection Law.”
“Now that I think about it, Little Shiya is better. She may always be silent and taciturn, but at least she doesn’t order a ferret around for chores.”
Muttering complaints to itself, Dean Silver’s figure had already left the Imperial Capital, appearing now in the dormitory district of Starfall University.
“Too bad Little Shiya’s personality is too cold, too lacking in initiative. In this war of romance, she likely cannot compete against Little Tina or that Xiao Ai…”
Just as the ferret tiptoed into the living room of Akxia’s residence, its movements froze midair.
Even though it was already late at night, the girl with ice-blue hair had not gone to sleep, but was quietly seated in the living room, as if waiting for Dean Silver to return home.
“Ahahaha… Little Shiya, why are you still awake so late?”
“Don’t you have to visit Rast at the hospital tomorrow? If you sleep this late, you’ll have dark circles under your eyes…”
“If Rast happens to wake up tomorrow, it wouldn’t be good for him to see you looking so worn out.”
Dean Silver chuckled awkwardly, its watery eyes blinking as it prepared to leap onto the girl’s head, hoping to get by with cuteness.
But then, it saw the girl with long, ice-blue hair look toward it faintly.
Her pure-white face, as delicate as snow and ice, bore not the slightest trace of expression. Yet it seemed as if she had completely seen through Dean Silver’s thoughts.
“You and Ophelia are hiding something from me.”
Ice-blue elegant script appeared in midair, starkly clear beneath the gentle light of the magitech lamp.
“Rast… he is in trouble…”
“Someone seeks to harm him, don’t they?”