The aftermath of a catastrophe like the Sovereign-level Demon Invasion couldn't simply fade away, especially when the Empire of Aetherlight had lost Lord Lioren in the conflict.
Naturally, not only within the Empire, but nations across Earth were secretly monitoring subsequent developments.
They had already learned the general details of that day through various intelligence channels.
However, with so many Empire Lore Cardians present during the battle, rumors inevitably spread like wildfire, each version more sensational than the last.
Some claimed Azrael had fought two Sovereign-level Demons to mutual annihilation. Others insisted Edley had retreated because Lord Lioren's final strike had grievously wounded him.
With this mixture of truth and fiction swirling about, foreign powers found it difficult to piece together what had actually transpired.
Of course, there were more outrageous versions circulating as well, tales where the Four Evil Gods and Edley fought desperately but still couldn't defeat Azrael, or another where Azrael's mere presence had forced Edley to bow in submission.
However, these stories were so absurd that most dismissed them out of hand.
Tsarist Russia.
Catherine and Nicholas pored over the latest intelligence gathered from the Empire. Behind them stood Petrovna, mouth agape in undisguised shock.
The Russian Empress didn't bother correcting her daughter's lack of decorum. She herself was too deeply shaken by what she'd just read.
After steadying herself, Catherine turned to Nicholas. "Sir Nicholas, is this information reliable?"
Nicholas, snapping out of his own daze, nodded gravely. "Your Majesty, this intelligence has been compiled from multiple sources within the Empire. It should represent a close approximation of the truth."
Catherine knew the quality of intelligence her network provided.
She was simply... overwhelmed.
Her gaze fixed on the photograph included in the report, a fissure that seemed to tear reality itself asunder, distorting the very fabric of space.
The photographs had been taken during the Empire's rear-area evacuation. There were several images documenting the phenomenon's progression: an extremely ominous blood-red color at first, then gradually shifting to a blue tint as the Soul King's power influenced it.
Catherine could tell at a glance this wasn't Lord Lioren's work. After all, she was familiar with the signature cards of the Empire's late Sovereign-level Lore Cardian.
This was undoubtedly the work of the young man who had previously distinguished himself during the joint operation.
Fortunately, the Empire had already invested in establishing relations with him, so ties between the two nations remained strong.
With this reassuring thought, Her Majesty exhaled slowly and stated with absolute gravity, "Inform everyone to elevate his diplomatic priority to the highest level."
"Yes," Nicholas agreed without hesitation. He understood perfectly well whom Her Majesty meant.
Tsarist Russia and the Empire shared extensive borders, and with the Demon Army's recent setback, there would be no shortage of future diplomatic interactions.
It was only natural that everyone, from top brass to grassroots officials, familiarize themselves with each other's senior leadership to avoid diplomatic incidents.
Reality wasn't like movies and television series, full of arrogant young masters courting death. Between nations with mutual interests, there was no reason to create offense over trivial matters.
The Empire would undoubtedly be doing the same on their end.
After a moment's contemplation, Catherine casually inquired, "By the way, do we have any information on the specific abilities of his newly created card?"
Nicholas hesitated before answering carefully. "Based on intelligence gathered within the Empire, it appears related to separation, healing, and transformation."
The master Lore Cardian seemed uncertain himself, as the connections between these abilities weren't immediately apparent.
He paused before continuing. "As for Lord Edley... he returned to the Indo-American Federation to take custody of the Skinner, then disappeared. He's presumably returned to Antarctica to suppress those secret realms. There's been no further news from that front."
Nicholas fell silent, quietly awaiting Catherine's response.
Upon hearing his description, Catherine frowned slightly.
Judging solely from this limited information, Azrael's latest card seemed more support-focused than combat-oriented.
Of course, such a simplified description could never fully capture the complexity of a Sovereign-level card.
However, without more detailed intelligence, even a Sovereign-level Lore Cardian like herself couldn't extract any deeper insights.
Catherine didn't even entertain the possibility of "omniscience and omnipotence", after all, such attributes were almost exclusively associated with the Vatican's highest-tier divine cards.
And the Empire clearly had no connection to the Vatican.
It wasn't that the supreme deities in the Empire's mythology couldn't achieve such feats, but rather that these beings rarely emphasized those particular aspects of their power.
Confused for the moment, Catherine could only suppress her curiosity, deciding to wait until she could observe the card in person.
Nicholas then inquired, "Your Majesty, the Empire has asked whether Tsarist Russia will send representatives to Lord Lioren's funeral."
"Your Majesty?"
Hearing this, the Russian Empress was momentarily taken aback.
While relations between the Empire and Tsarist Russia were currently favorable, normally the death of a Sovereign-level Lore Cardian wasn't celebrated by other nations. In fact, the more discreet the funeral, the better, to prevent enemies from perceiving weakness.
Thinking along these lines, Catherine couldn't help muttering to herself, "It seems the Empire isn't as vulnerable as some might assume."
"Or perhaps..." The Empire actually has complete confidence in Azrael's abilities?
Of course, the possibility that the Empire was simply putting on a brave front couldn't be ruled out entirely.
After brief deliberation, she turned to her daughter. "Petrovna, you will represent the Empire at Lord Lioren's funeral."
This was the most diplomatically appropriate choice. As the supreme ruler of Tsarist Russia, Catherine couldn't easily leave the country for extended periods.
Moreover, both she and Lord Lioren had been Sovereign-level Lore Cardians. If she attended personally, her presence might inadvertently overshadow the deceased, a breach of funeral etiquette.
Under these circumstances, Petrovna, crown princess of Tsarist Russia, represented the perfect compromise. Her attendance would demonstrate proper respect without appearing presumptuous.
Hearing her own name, the girl suddenly snapped to attention, pointing at herself with bewildered confusion. "Huh? Me?"
Seeing her daughter's expression, Catherine briefly questioned her decision.
But ultimately, the Empress held her tongue. After all, no one was born understanding diplomatic protocol, it developed through practical experience.
Some people simply learned faster than others.
Her daughter was probably just... a slower learner. Right?
Lord Lioren's funeral wasn't limited to Tsarist Russia's attendance. Virtually every nation on Earth had received invitations.
The same was true for the Mughal Empire, which lay south of the Empire of Aetherlight.
At that moment, within a vast domed palace, a handsome young man with fair skin reclined in a pool filled with white steam, enjoying the ministrations of beautiful attendants.
Before the pool, a middle-aged man with pale skin and a red dot between his eyebrows prostrated himself on the marble floor, his expression profoundly respectful as he spoke. "Your Majesty, this is the situation."
Perhaps the lower-caste citizens of the Mughal Empire would never imagine that the Brahmins they viewed as living gods would actually grovel like dogs before their emperor.
After listening to the report, the young man named Motian slightly lifted his upper body, floating out of the water to lean against the pool's edge.
The attendants immediately moved to his sides, massaging his shoulders with practiced hands.
Motian yawned languidly, then spoke with casual disinterest. "Lioren is dead."
"I wondered why he went berserk that day."
"But that Edley really is something else, just standing there watching Jin and his gang cause chaos like that." He scoffed derisively. "Heh!"
The sound conveyed both mockery and contempt, though whether directed at Lord Lioren or Edley remained unclear.
After a moment's silence, a playful smile crossed Motian's face. "Inform the Empire that I'll personally attend Lord Lioren's funeral."
The prostrate middle-aged man's head suddenly jerked up at this pronouncement, though he quickly averted his gaze upon glimpsing the two naked beauties behind Motian.
He spoke with considerable difficulty. "Your Majesty... that might be inappropriate."
Motian's lips curled with disdain. "If Lord Lioren were still alive, I'd exercise some caution. But the Empire only has elderly relics and invalids left now. I wonder if they'd even dare challenge me."
"I'm not like Edley, after all."
Having said this, the middle-aged man no longer possessed the courage or justification to dissuade him.
He could only respond respectfully, "Yes, I will convey Your Majesty's intentions to the Empire."
With that, he turned and rose, preparing to exit the palace.
At that moment, Motian spoke lazily. "Did you see that just now?"
"Leave your eyes behind."
Upon hearing this command, the middle-aged man trembled violently, but suppressed his terror and replied in a quavering voice, "Yes... yes, Your Majesty."
As he spoke, he actually reached up and forcibly tore out his own eyeballs. Blood immediately streamed down his cheeks, dripping onto the polished marble floor.
Then he turned around and carefully placed his eyeballs on the ground. After bowing once more to Motian, he staggered blindly from the palace.
Witnessing this scene, two beautiful women whispered seductively in Motian's ears. "My Lord is so merciful, he only wanted his eyes."
Hearing this, Motian grinned, reaching back with both hands to caress them. "Ha, I think so too."
Simultaneously, on the other side of Earth, Great Britain had naturally learned of Lord Lioren's death.
Upon receiving this news, King George VII couldn't help sighing inwardly. "Alas... these truly are troubled times."
Leon, who had previously dealt with Azrael, now knelt on one knee beneath the throne, utterly bewildered. He had no idea why His Majesty had summoned him.
He'd attempted to bribe the royal attendant upon arrival, but the damned servant, after pocketing the money, had claimed complete ignorance.
However, Leon had developed a theory about this mysterious summons.
"Is His Majesty finally going to designate me as Crown Prince?!"
His heart pounded at this tantalizing possibility.
But King George VII's next words made Leon's brain freeze entirely. "Lord Lioren, the renowned Lore Cardian of the Empire of Aetherlight, has passed away. His funeral will be held soon."
"Leon, you'll attend on my behalf."
Hearing this, Leon looked up in stunned disbelief, scarcely able to trust his ears.
But when King George VII's grave expression came into focus, he realized His Majesty wasn't joking in the slightest.
"Me? Me?!" Leon stammered, momentarily at a loss for words.
Seeing his reaction, a flash of displeasure flickered in King George VII's eyes before he explained, "You understand Great Britain's current situation. I'm certainly unavailable."
"It just so happens you recently reached Diamond level, and you have prior acquaintance with Azrael from the Empire. Therefore, you're the most suitable candidate."
At first, Leon didn't fully process the opening words, knowing His Majesty spoke the truth about Britain's precarious position.
But something seemed distinctly off about the rest of the statement.
"Azrael?!" Leon vacantly repeated the name, a name that absolutely shouldn't have appeared in this context.
Seeing his bewildered expression, King George VII casually handed him a dossier.
Taking it, Leon instinctively began reading.
The more he read, the wider his eyes grew.
Details about slaying multiple Master-level demons... successfully repelling a Sovereign-level Demon invasion... banishing the partial manifestation of Four Evil Gods...
This couldn't possibly be the same person. Was this really the Azrael he'd met before?
There had to be some mistake.
How had he become so absurdly powerful after just a few years apart?
The last time they'd met, they'd both been Emerald-level Lore Cardians!
Leon swallowed hard, his previous elation at reaching Diamond level evaporating without a trace.
After a long moment, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and responded with forced composure. "Yes, Your Majesty. I will not bring shame to Great Britain."
Leon bowed to King George VII and withdrew from the throne room.
Outside the palace, he gazed up at the clouds drifting across the sky, still feeling as though he were trapped in some surreal dream.
Empire of Aetherlight.
Azrael remained completely unaware that the external situation had become turbulent due to Lord Lioren's funeral. He was currently preparing to create his first Master-level card.
Looking at the three materials laid before him, [Disaster Fox], [Origin of the Immortal Path], and [Savior of Heaven's Destiny], Azrael took a deep breath and wrapped his mental power around them.
In the next instant, his consciousness shifted.
He found himself standing in a vast expanse of pure white space.
Azrael frowned slightly as he surveyed his surroundings. "Where is this?"
Just as he prepared to investigate with caution, a voice suddenly caught his attention.
"You're here."
Azrael turned and spotted a white figure whose features remained unclear, sitting casually on the ground while quietly observing him.
"Truth?" Azrael ventured, recognizing something familiar about the figure's appearance.
"Is this behind the Gate of Truth?"
But Azrael quickly revised his assessment. He quirked his lips slightly and stated with certainty, "You're the World Consciousness, aren't you?"
Hearing this, the white figure shrugged nonchalantly. "Truth, World Consciousness, call me whatever you prefer."
"If you don't like this appearance, I can transform into something else."
With those words, the white figure shifted before Azrael's eyes, transforming into two young girls. Two childish voices overlapped as they spoke in unison. "Or perhaps you prefer this form?"
Witnessing this transformation, Azrael remained silent for a long moment before responding with complete deadpan. "You'd better change back."
"I'm not ready to visit Valhalla just yet."
...
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