{Chapter: 212: Speculations}
That very night, in a deeply concealed underground sanctum…
The air was thick with incense and ancient blood. Arcane symbols, drawn meticulously with various types of blood—some fresh, some ancient and blackened—glowed ominously across every inch of the cold stone floor and walls. The ritual chamber was sealed from the outside world, hidden by layers of magic and secrecy. Only those bound by dark oaths or forbidden knowledge would even know it existed.
A sprawling magical circle, at least thirty feet in diameter, radiated pale light that pulsed with a heartbeat-like rhythm. At the center of the ritual, a shimmering sphere of ethereal light hovered in mid-air, casting ghostly reflections onto the walls. It flickered with power both celestial and profane.
Before this radiant presence, Sarah knelt, her hands clasped and her head bowed low. Her body trembled with devotion and reverence, and her face was alight with fervor. Her expression could only be described as that of a zealot lost in divine ecstasy—one who had given her entire soul to something far greater than herself.
In truth, she had.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as the energy in the room thickened, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. The very air seemed to shudder as a voice emerged from within the floating light.
A deep, commanding voice. Cold. Eternal. Divine.
> "Sarah… did you retrieve the statue?"
The voice reverberated through her bones, bypassing her ears and speaking directly to her soul. It held the kind of overwhelming authority that demanded submission—not through violence, but through awe. Her entire body tingled at the sound. It was the voice of her god. Her Master.
A blissful shudder passed through her.
Had it been under any other circumstances, she would have basked in the voice's glory, offered up chants of praise, and allowed herself to be consumed by its grace. But she couldn't afford to. Not tonight. Not after what had happened.
Shame crept into her voice as she bowed lower to the floor, forehead pressing against the cold runes glowing beneath her. "Master… I made contact with the target today. I tried to approach the statue under the guise of seeking treasure from the old world, but… he saw through me. Somehow, he knew about the summoning ritual embedded within."
There was a long pause.
Then, the voice roared—not with volume, but with force. A surge of pressure exploded outward from the light, making the walls tremble and the runes flare dangerously bright. Sarah's body was nearly flattened to the ground.
> "What did you say?"
She winced, eyes wide in fear but unwilling to lie. "He saw it, Master… even though I disguised my intent. He said nothing about how, but he was certain the statue held a summoning ritual within."
Silence fell again, but this time it was charged with fury, disbelief, and something more primal—fear.
The being within the light was no mere warlock or demon-lord. He was one of the immortal few—a god who had walked across countless realms, left kingdoms in ruin, and devoured entire planes in his path. For such a being, setbacks were rare. But this?
This was not a setback. This was a revelation.
How could someone detect the core hidden within that statue? It wasn't just any idol. That statue had been his most covert anchor—painstakingly crafted to hide the ritual core, while masking itself with protective exorcism sigils. It was meant to repel any form of detection, even from gods.
The ritual core had been meant to subtly link this plane to his domain—his bridge into the Mi Ling world. Through it, he could eventually open a full passage and descend upon this realm with his full strength.
He clenched his metaphorical fists.
That statue had cost him dearly. He'd poured the essence of multiple high-tiered souls into its creation. Resources that could've been used to elevate three or four champions to demigodhood had gone into it. In terms of investment, it was equivalent to a small kingdom's worth of divine favor.
To think it had been exposed.
He could feel the bile rise in his spiritual gut.
> "That statue was one of my most sacred designs… no mortal should have been able to uncover it. And he didn't even destroy it?"
Sarah answered carefully. "No, Master. He didn't act aggressively or expose me. In fact… he made an offer."
That piqued his interest.
> "An offer?"
Sarah nodded slowly, still kneeling. "He said… if we give him ten thousand soul crystals, he will hand over the statue willingly."
A pause.
Then came a snarl—a sound like rending steel and cracking mountains.
> "That insolent wretch… TEN THOUSAND?"
The amount was outrageous, even by his standards. A single soul crystal required the essence of hundreds of souls to form. Ten thousand meant millions of souls—a whole nation, perhaps even a continent's worth of lives.
It was a demand that bordered on divine robbery.
Even for an ancient being like himself, ten thousand soul crystals was no small thing. That was a treasury reserved for the forging of armies, for collapsing realms, for reshaping fate. Not something you simply handed over in exchange for a statue, no matter how important.
> "That bastard wants to bleed me dry… Does he think I'll just submit?"
He paused. His presence flickered.
Then a dark chuckle emerged from the light.
> "...Or maybe he knows exactly how much I need it. Clever little beast."
Yes. The mortal named Dex had likely seen through more than Sarah realized. Not just the statue's secrets—but the value it held to something far bigger than it appeared. Dex wasn't just lucky. He was dangerous.
In the next moment, spurred on by rising fury, a devastating aura erupted from the center of the light and shadows!
A pulse of invisible energy swept through the chamber like a shockwave, carrying with it a whirlwind of countless razor-thin wind blades. Each one spun at terrifying speeds, slicing through the air in chaotic spirals like a tornado of death.
This outburst was not a spell, but a raw and primal surge of divine power.
Had the being at the center not exercised some restraint in his fury, the force released would have annihilated the entire underground chamber in a single breath. The foundations would have crumbled, the runes shattered, and the earth above might have collapsed entirely.
Even so, the power he did release proved devastating.
The concentrated storm tore through the air, slicing into Sarah's flesh. Her robes were shredded into ribbons, and shallow cuts bloomed across her body, painting her pale skin red. Her expression twisted with pain, yet she remained kneeling, her eyes still filled with reverence and awe—as if being injured by her master was a divine blessing.
Eventually, the storm began to die down.
The shadows settled. The light dimmed.
And the Evil God—now visibly calmer—finally withdrew his divine pressure and descended into silence, lost in thought.
His voice emerged a moment later, low and contemplative: "Why... why would he ask for soul crystals?"
To most beings in this world, soul crystals were strange and often shunned. While undeniably rare and powerful, they lacked universal appeal. Their practical uses were limited, often restricted to sinister rituals or dark magical systems explicitly banned across most major civilizations.
Gold, jewels, and enchanted relics held far more general value.
Unless...
Unless the one making the demand was involved in something forbidden.
A dark path. An evil power structure. Or perhaps... something not entirely native to this world.
His brows furrowed deeply as he glanced toward Sarah, who still knelt there, trembling and pale, her skin glistening with sweat and blood.
Her breath came in ragged bursts, but when he addressed her again, his voice was sharp and focused.
"Tell me more about that man—his appearance, his behavior, his tone. I want everything."
Sarah, despite her wounds, straightened and recounted everything she could recall:
Dex's golden third eye, his two curved horns, the air of arrogance that clung to him like a second skin. The way he negotiated with absolute confidence. The way he stood out, yet seemed unaffected by scrutiny.
The Evil God listened in silence, piecing the clues together.
'Golden third eye... small horns... sounds somewhat draconic.'
He mulled it over, slowly.
'Could it be a mutated dragon? But then again, this world has at least three to five humanoid or semi-humanoid species with similar traits. They're rare, but not unheard of.'
He narrowed his gaze.
'The most likely candidates are demons or devils. Both races are infamous for their unpredictable forms. However, true Hellish Devils would never act so openly—they infiltrate, manipulate from the shadows, subvert society piece by piece. And chances of a demon doing something like that were even less.
And this man... Dex... he's loud, proud, and unapologetically visible. That kind of arrogance is suicidal for a real demon in a hostile realm.'
With that, two options was ruled out.
Now, only one possibility remained.
"He's most likely a mutated dragon," the Evil God said at last, almost spitting the words.
He conjured a mental profile as he spoke:
Vertical pupils.
Curved horns.
Insatiable greed.
Unchecked lust.
Sloth and pride in equal measure.
And a faint air of chaotic malice.
Yes—he fit the mold perfectly.
This was a classic dragon. Or at least, a corrupted one.
And suddenly, things began to make sense.
If Dex was indeed a mutant dragon, then it would explain why the city's magical detection barriers didn't react to him. Most native dragons—so long as they refrained from causing widespread harm—were granted free access to major cities. Their ancient lineage, deep connection to the world, and political neutrality kept them largely above suspicion.
Unless they crossed a line, they were mostly left alone.
And if this so-called Dex was seeking soul crystals, the answer became even more obvious.
"He's trying to refine his bloodline. Absorb the crystallized souls. Strengthen himself."
The Evil God clenched his fists.
It was a reasonable goal for a creature like Dex. Even understandable, from a strategic standpoint. But it didn't make the situation any less galling.
To be extorted by a demi-dragon upstart... like this? At such a price?
It was outrageous.
Dex had demanded ten thousand soul crystals—a figure so absurd it might as well have been a declaration of war. That amount represented the essence of millions of souls. The price was equivalent to what he could earn over a long period of conquest and manipulation. It was like gouging out a piece of his own divinity.
Normally, he wouldn't have even considered it.
In most cases, he could bypass this entire situation with a high-level sacrificial ritual. Open a rift. Step through. Conquer from within.
But now... things had changed.
The Mi Ling World was in chaos. Demon wars raged across the continents. Divine barriers had been activated and reinforced. The outer realms surrounding the world were crawling with gods and watchers.
If he forced his way in without preparation, he risked being spotted—stopped—trapped on the outer membrane of the world. A place few ever escaped once caught.
It was too risky.
Too soon.
And so, with a conflicted look upon his face, filled with both humiliation and grim calculation, the Evil God made his decision.
With clenched teeth and eyes burning with dark resentment, he whispered to himself:
"Fine. I'll pay the price. For now."
But even as he said it, his thoughts twisted toward vengeance.
Dex would get his soul crystals.
But one day, he would pay a far steeper price in return.