CHAPTER 187: The Mutilation of Karma and the Blood Decree
The interior of the Void Herald was a floating sanctuary of dark metal and ancient runic art, a vessel that silently sailed the skies of the outer continent like a harbinger of imminent death. Inside one of the ship's private meditation chambers, the atmosphere was heavy and gloomy. The shadows in that closed room seemed to have a will of their own; they swirled in the corners like hungry snakes, absorbing and devouring the scant light emitted by the spiritual pearls embedded in the ceiling.
In the center of the room, sitting in an unbreakable lotus posture upon a Qi gathering matrix, was Dante.
The assassin of the Sequences breathed slowly and rhythmically, but behind his closed eyelids, his mind was a relentless whirlwind of calculations, blood, and violent memories. In front of him, floating mere inches from his face held by invisible threads of his own energy, was the Dagger of the Fallen Asura, the lethal weapon Patriarch Samael had given him some time ago. The blade, forged in the purest darkness, still seemed to distill the ghosts and wails of the beings it had reaped.
Dante slightly opened his eyes, observing the black edge. He remembered with chilling clarity the absolute madness they had experienced in the Primordial Tomb. To survive and shatter the wall of spiritual pressure in that dungeon, he had had to inject a million souls from his crows. And then, in an act of pure suicidal dementia that still made his blood run cold, he had sacrificed another million souls in a single blow to mutilate the Demon King's terrifying manifestation. His vast arsenal of suffering spirits had been completely emptied. He had bet everything he had, his cultivation and his life, in that crimson hell.
But the dagger... the dagger had tasted a feast that no mortal weapon should ever taste. It had drunk deeply of the black blood of the tomb's monsters, it had savored the despair of the sect experts outside, and, most importantly of all: it had devoured a minuscule, but infinitely pure, fragment of the soul of a Holy King from the Primordial Era.
A cold, dry, and resonant echo vibrated directly in his Sea of Consciousness.
[Slaughter System: Essence Analysis Completed.]
[The 'Dagger of the Fallen Asura' has absorbed enough lethal blood and Primordial Law fragments. The artifact is ready to transcend its earthly limits.]
[Required Evolution Cost: 500,000 Slaughter Points.]
Dante's pupils dilated in the gloom of the room.
"Half a million points..." Dante let out a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his neck with a mix of frustration and awe. "Damn greedy, usurious systems. Half a million points is no joke. It's the price of massacring an entire mortal empire."
With a mere thought, he summoned his spiritual status panel. He knew his reserves must be in the red, bordering on absolute bankruptcy after the obscene expenditure of the two million crows at the climax of the expedition. However, when his mental gaze fell on his soul's current balance, his breath caught completely.
[Current Slaughter Points: 1,500,000]
Dante blinked once, twice, three times, genuinely in disbelief. The silence of the chamber broke as a twisted, almost euphoric smile began to form on his youthful face.
The outside! He remembered the carnage that had taken place outside the gates of the Secret Realm. Amidst the chaos, he, using all his tricks and spectral speed, had managed to surprise and decapitate an Ancestor of the Iron Blood Alliance. A Stage 5 Great Saint! The Slaughter System, with its cold and impartial logic, had calculated the immense and absurd power gap between his level and his victim's, multiplying the reward by the threat level. It had granted him a monstrous and obscene amount for that single life taken.
A thread of saliva almost escaped the corner of his lips. Dante began to drool internally, his imagination immediately flying toward extremely dangerous and seductive heights.
«If a sad, decrepit Stage 5 Great Saint gave me a million and a half points all at once... How many millions... how many dozens of millions would I have gotten for sinking this dagger into the neck of that damn Demonic Holy King in the tomb?»
Realizing the direction of his thoughts, Dante shook his head violently. He raised both hands and gave himself a couple of loud, sharp slaps on the cheeks, the sting helping him dispel those suicidal delusions immediately.
"Focus, Dante, don't be a greedy idiot," he reprimanded himself in a low voice, exhaling deeply. "Killing a Holy King is impossible for now. A simple sneeze, a simple whim of that thing, almost erased us all from existence. I still have to swallow a lot of suffering and climb many mountains of corpses before I can point my blade at the necks of the true gods of this world."
Clearing his mind and regaining his characteristic coldness, he turned his attention back to the notification floating in his mind. He had the necessary funds. It was time to invest in his own lethality.
"System. Spend half a million points. Evolve the dagger now."
[Consuming 500,000 Slaughter Points...]
[Forging of the Abyss Initiated.]
At that precise instant, the meditation chamber plunged into absolute darkness. The spiritual pearls on the ceiling didn't turn off; rather, their light was literally suffocated. The Dagger of the Fallen Asura began to tremble violently in the air, emitting a metallic shriek reminiscent of the wailing of a thousand damned souls. The shadows in the room, which previously slithered lazily, were sucked toward the black blade with the force of a whirlpool on the high seas.
Dante watched, fascinated, as the dark metal twisted as if it were alive. The blade subtly elongated, becoming more curved, asymmetrical, and displaying a density so terrifying that the space around it seemed to sink under its own weight.
When the light dimly returned to the chamber, the weapon had completely changed. Dante reached out and wrapped his fingers around the new hilt. A terrifying cold, similar to the millennial ice of a lost glacier, ran up his arm. The weapon's guard was carved from what appeared to be the pure, ashen marrow of an ancient Asura; the skeletal claws of the hilt embraced the base of the blade as if trying to prevent the artifact's cursed power from escaping and devouring the world.
The blade itself was a blasphemous work of art. It was forged from a matte black steel that devoured ambient light, preventing any gleam that might betray his position. Through fine runic cracks in the metal pulsed a liquid Qi of necrotic purple and fiery crimson, imitating the breathing circulatory system of a demon.
But the most terrifying thing wasn't its appearance. It was the sensation.
The weapon now emitted a dark, permanent hum, an almost inaudible spiritual vibration that wasn't heard with the ears, but rumbled in the soul. Upon holding it, Dante felt his skin crawl and his own blood run cold.
[Evolution Completed: Fang of the Fallen Asura (Phase 2)]
[New Passive Property Unlocked: "Mutilation of Karma".]
Dante read the inscription the System engraved in his mind. He immediately understood why his own body felt terror upon holding the weapon. Wounds caused by this blade would no longer simply cut flesh, muscles, or meridians. They would sever the threads of causality. They would cut the body's Karma.
Any wound inflicted by the Fang of the Fallen Asura would bleed forever. The Mutilation of Karma prevented the damage from being closed by miraculous healing pills, by the natural regeneration of sacred lineages, or by orthodox medical methods. Only healers who exceeded Dante's level by an entire realm, or entities with absolute control over the Law of Light, could purge the trace of the Law of Shadows left in the wound. Otherwise, the enemy would bleed out until they became an empty husk, prey to eternal agony.
Dante squeezed the hilt, feeling the hum of death synchronize perfectly with his own heartbeat. His smile widened. It was the ultimate weapon for wars of attrition; a single scratch on a superior enemy would guarantee their doom.
But the evolution of his weapon companion wasn't the only loot Dante had to process that night.
He still kept, sealed deep within his Dantian, the immense amount of residual energy he had looted upon murdering the Ancestor of the Iron Blood Alliance. Closing his eyes, Dante focused and broke the seals holding that essence back.
Immediately, he began to refine that raw, brutal, chaotic energy. The spiritual force of a superior expert flowed through his meridians like boiling lava, expanding his Qi channels, burning the impurities from his marrow, and crashing against his martial bottlenecks with the unstoppable force of a tsunami.
The air in the room exploded. His aura of shadows expanded violently, fracturing the solid runic metal tiles beneath his feet.
His cultivation, which had firmly stagnated at Holy Realm Stage 1 (Low) after the long isolation in the labyrinth, skyrocketed upward. The immense devoured energy acted as the perfect fuel. It broke through the middle stage in a blink, his bones cracking and his aura darkening even further, until it finally stabilized violently and majestically at Holy Realm Stage 1 (High).
He was a single step, a simple breath of enlightenment, away from breaking the barrier and touching Stage 2 of the Holy Realm.
Dante exhaled a long, thick cloud of black Qi, opening his eyes. He felt invincible, light as the wind and lethal as the night itself. He checked his remaining balance in the System: an even one million points. He nodded to himself in satisfaction. He would save them. He knew very well that, in the near future, trapped in the middle of a life-or-death crossroads against some millennial monster, that million points could be the thin line that separated buying a miraculous skill from turning to dust forever.
Satisfied, he proceeded to sheathe the Fang of the Fallen Asura into the dark beast leather scabbard he wore on his thigh.
What Dante did not see, nor manage to perceive, was that at the exact instant the blade disappeared into the scabbard, a blood-red aura swirled behind his back. For a fraction of a second, the energy formed the silhouette of spectral eyes with a slitted pupil, similar to that of a primordial dragon, but infinitely older and laden with a murderous intent capable of freezing a world. An ancient thought, alien to Dante's mind, vibrated in the silence of the room:
«It is not yet time...»
A second later, the aura dissipated as if it had never existed, and the meditation chamber returned to its usual stillness.
Suddenly, a sound talisman embedded in the wall of his room glowed with an emerald light, emitting a soft pulse but laden with an undeniable authority.
"To all Sequences. Report to the tactical assembly room immediately."
It was the voice of Commander Lilith, projected through the ship's arrays.
Dante adjusted his black leather bracers and stepped out into the metallic corridor, his cloak of shadows billowing behind him with lethal elegance.
The Assembly Room of the Void Herald
The immense tactical hall in the heart of the flagship was dimly lit by a gigantic stellar and continental map projected via pure runic light onto a round ebony table.
The forty-five Sequences were already gathered around the map. Although their heavy armors had been forged anew and their severe wounds had been healed without leaving a single scar thanks to Elowen's miraculous Web of Life, the atmosphere the group exuded had changed forever.
If before entering the labyrinth they were seen as supremely talented young geniuses, but in training, now they were something entirely different. They were veterans hardened by the fire of the underworld. They had raided the tomb of a myth from the Primordial Era, bathed in ancient blood, and survived.
Kael stood tall, with a serenity that hid the magma volcano of his sword; Eris played with a lock of her hair, her eyes shining with that chaotic madness only the Morningstars understood; the bronze Titans crossed their immense arms, looking like immovable statues; and Violeta, who had recently awakened, still looked somewhat bewildered, blinking softly. All of them, without exception, shared the same sharp, deep, silent look: the unmistakable look of apex predators who had tasted the flesh of gods.
The heavy doors to the room opened wide.
Lilith entered with firm steps. Her undeniable imperial elegance and mature aura filled the room, commanding absolute respect. Behind her walked Sienna, the Mirror Maiden, maintaining an enigmatic, almost sadistic smile, while the small golden bell on her wrist chimed with a melody that made the skin crawl.
All the youths snapped to attention instantly, striking their chests with a closed fist in a perfectly unified military salute that resonated in the metal room like a clap of thunder.
Lilith walked gracefully to the head of the immense tactical table. Her emerald eyes slowly scanned each of the youths. There was a maternal pride in her gaze, but also the recognition of a commander toward her best warriors.
"At ease," Lilith ordered. Her voice was warm, but laden with the weight of the main branch's authority. "I have spoken directly with the Patriarch. He has seen, through the threads of destiny and Authority, the results of your massacre in the Secret Realm. And of course, he also witnessed the moment he had to intervene through Violeta."
The room plunged into a tense silence. Several of the geniuses clenched their fists, fearing they had been a disappointment.
"Do not think for a second that your effort was not worth it, or that you disappointed him because his power had to save you in your final breath," Lilith continued, softening her expression. "The Patriarch is a god of war, and he understands better than anyone that that situation exceeded the limits of what the universe allows mortals. It was necessary. So I want you to only think of what happened as a lesson carved in blood, improve upon your weaknesses, and feel deeply satisfied and proud to have survived."
Lilith smiled, a smile that illuminated the gloom of the room.
"His exact words were clear: 'They were thrown like blind pups into the tomb of an ancient Holy King, and they returned to me as true dragons.' Patriarch Samael is immensely proud of what you have achieved. You have shattered all expectations."
The chests of the forty-five Sequences swelled simultaneously. The eyes of some even shone with a fanatic devotion. For them, orphans, assassins, and pariahs who had been picked up from the scum of the world, validation and recognition from the Tyrant God who ruled them was, without a doubt, the greatest honor of their lives. The simple fact of knowing that Samael was proud was enough for them to march happily toward the end of the world.
"And our lord's pride is not simply paid with pretty words," Sienna interjected, raising a pale, slender hand with grace. "Check your runic rings and your clan identity tokens."
The youths looked down at their hands. The dark metals of their rings and Morningstar Clan affiliation tokens emitted a warm golden flash. Through the Family System link, a notification appeared in their minds.
[Central Treasury Transfer: +1,000,000 Morningstar Clan Contribution Points.]
Several of the geniuses, despite their spartan discipline, had to bite their lips to contain a gasp of astonishment. A million contribution points. It was an absurd fortune. In the imperial sects outside, a core disciple would have to work on suicidal missions for decades to accumulate a tenth of that amount.
But, amidst the collective astonishment, there was one young woman who was completely stunned to see the figure reflected in her own record. Violeta Morningstar's eyes went wide.
[Central Treasury Transfer: +5,000,000 Morningstar Clan Contribution Points.]
Violeta, her irises shining with flecks of silver and void, turned her head from side to side. She saw Kael, Eris, and Dante silently celebrating their million. Confusion filled her face. Slowly, she raised her right hand.
Lilith, who was observing the youths' reactions, noticed the gesture immediately. She nodded toward her.
"Is there a problem, Violeta?"
"Yes, Lady Lilith," the young woman replied, her voice still a bit raspy from exhaustion, which immediately drew the attention of the other forty-four squads. "Why... why do I have so many points compared to the rest? I have five million."
Lilith widened her smile, an expression full of affection and respect for the lethal young woman.
"It is exactly what you deserve, Violeta. Not only did you fight in the vanguard from the first second with your squad, bearing the brunt of the combat until your comrades arrived, but later, at the climax of the apocalypse, you were the one who faced the manifestation of the Holy King head-on. You were the one who served as the anchor for the Patriarch's power. You were the one who helped the most to sustain reality throughout the fight, and you were the one who landed the slash that ended the battle. In Samael's eyes, and in mine, you were the top contributor to this expedition. And I am sure everyone present here thinks exactly the same."
The other youths nodded in unison at the Matriarch's words. There was no envy in their eyes. They all knew the harsh reality: if it weren't for Violeta bearing the destructive burden of the spatial laws and serving as a conduit for the Patriarch's Sword Art, many of them could have died, or been mutilated for life. The power of her new eyes had been the legion's salvation.
But acknowledging her immense value didn't mean, by any means, that the Sequences had lost their competitive spirit. All of them were young wolves with a thirst for self-improvement to the maximum. Their auras subtly ignited with a friendly rivalry.
Kael crossed his arms, a defiant smile on his face.
"Just for this once, Violeta, we'll let you take the lion's share of the credit and the crown. But don't let your guard down, because in the next hunt, that first place will be mine."
Eris let out a wild, crystalline laugh, leaning on her brother's shoulder.
"Keep dreaming, Kael! Next time it will be me who cleaves the strongest enemy in two, you'll see!"
Dante, playing with a small shadow coin between his fingers, stepped forward, joining the exchange.
"Don't claim victory so fast, you two. When you least expect it, the enemy's head will already be rolling on the ground, and I will be the one collecting the main bounty."
The solemn tension in the room broke completely, giving way to laughter and competitive remarks from the Titans and Architects, all betting on who would be the best in the next war.
Lilith and Sienna exchanged a look of deep satisfaction. This was what Samael had wanted to build: a true clan. An unbreakable union forged in blood, but sustained by harmony and absolute loyalty among the youths. They were a family of monsters.
Violeta was stunned by the avalanche of praise and the warm camaraderie of her rivals. The tips of her ears tinged deep red from embarrassment. Eris, noticing the blush of the usually cold executioner, showed a playful glint in her eyes and opened her mouth to throw an affectionate tease at her.
But before Eris could speak, Violeta looked down, rubbing her arm.
"But... all of that only happened because the Patriarch lent me his power. I didn't do it alone. It's not fair."
Lilith turned her attention back to her, her tone becoming more serious and didactic.
"You are right in one aspect, little one. The Patriarch intervened because the situation completely escaped the laws of the natural world. But listen to me well! If it wasn't you who was there... if you didn't have that absurd and unique affinity with spatial power, the Patriarch wouldn't have been able to channel his strength through the void. Besides Samael, and probably little Celeste in the future, you are the only entity in this clan capable of withstanding, molding, and wielding the Laws of Space at that level. You were the vessel that allowed the miracle."
Lilith paused, her red eyes shining with seriousness.
"And if you hadn't intervened, if your body had given out and you had died there... believe me, Violeta. We would be in an open war of eradication against the entire universe at this very moment. My nephew would have lost his sanity and truly become a Demon King that everyone fears. So lift your chin and feel proud of your achievements. You earned every one of those points."
With the matter settled, Lilith returned to her initial position, radiating authority.
"Those millions of points you just received," the Commander continued, "can be exchanged at any time in the Citadel's Central Treasury for any of the sacred objects, ancient cultivation manuals, or supreme weapons you recovered and looted from the Primordial Tomb. You can also use them to acquire emperor grade alchemy or other resources from the realm's immense vault. I repeat, you have earned it with your blood and your effort. However, the Patriarch knows that a warrior cannot fight with empty pockets in the present. Therefore..."
Lilith raised her hand and snapped her fingers elegantly.
From the wide sleeves of her imperial robe flew forty-five small spatial rings, forged in silver and obsidian. The rings traced arcs in the air, floating softly until landing with millimeter precision into the open palms of each of the Sequences.
"Inside each of those rings you will find exactly Ten Thousand Saint Grade Spiritual Crystals," Lilith announced, her words falling like anvils in the room. "They are a portion of the direct loot that you yourselves extracted from the tomb. With this personal reserve, your problems of Qi scarcity in the middle of combat are over forever. Use this immense fortune to lay the foundations of your realms and stabilize your recent martial breakthroughs."
Kael closed his fist around the cold spatial ring, feeling the overwhelming energy contained within. The wealth and resources the Morningstar Clan unconditionally granted them were incomprehensible. None of the so-called Orthodox Imperial Sects in the outer continent's millennial history would treat their young disciples with such lavishness. There, the elders hoarded the resources; here, the Patriarch forged gods by feeding them stars.
But Lilith was not finished.
In an instant, the warm, triumphant atmosphere in the immense room disappeared completely. It was abruptly replaced by a glacial cold and a murderous pressure so dense it made the young geniuses tense up like bowstrings. Lilith's face hardened, her features becoming implacable; it was the true face of a Matriarch of war.
"Now that you have been properly praised and rewarded, it is time to speak of the immediate future," Lilith said. Her voice was now a sharp whisper that cut through the absolute silence of the assembly. "You have a new mission, Sequences. And I am warning you now, so you can wipe the smiles off your faces: this will not be a blind exploration expedition to search for treasures. This will be an extreme hunting operation on the outside. Much riskier, more political, and bloodier than the tomb."
Lilith placed both hands on the edges of the tactical table. The immense runic projection map flickered and changed shape. The stars and mountains disappeared, showing instead the majestic emblems of two of the most formidable hegemonic forces of the outer continent.
On the left, an immense heavy bronze shield, pierced by two swords dripping dark blood. On the right, an imposing storm cloud of deep purple, violently crossed by silver lightning bolts.
"The Iron Blood Alliance and the Violet Cloud Sect," Lilith pronounced, savoring the names with barely contained venom. "These damn bastards... these ignoramuses tried to block our entrance to the fissure of the Primordial Tomb. They believed in their pathetic illusion that their numerical superiority and their ten-thousand-year history gave them the divine right to appropriate the Secret Realm and decide, as masters of the world, who entered and who died."
Lilith leaned forward.
"We massacred them at the door for their insolence, and you yourselves carved a path over the still-warm corpses of their venerable Saints."
Eris's eyes instantly ignited with the pure flames of catastrophe. Dante's right hand instinctively dropped, caressing the hilt of his new Fang of the Fallen Asura. The adrenaline and thrill of that first carnage against the elders of the outside still boiled in the blood of the entire squad.
"In the cruel world of martial cultivation, there is a saying that is an absolute law," Lilith continued, her eyes shining with promiscuous lethality. "It is better to pull the weeds out by the roots and burn the earth so that nothing ever grows back. We are not a compassionate sect. We are not going to hide and wait patiently for them to discover who killed their leaders. We are not going to wait for them to regroup their immense forces, summon their allies, or try to plan a pathetic revenge. We are not even going to give them the chance to take one last breath of air."
The map projection expanded, showing the vast expanses of the continent's eastern territories.
"We are going to go after them. We are going to tear their foundations from the earth, we are going to tear down their monuments, and we are going to burn their history until no one remembers their names. Your main mission as a covert vanguard is to infiltrate the great capitals. You must find the exact coordinates of the defense arrays of the main bases of both factions. We need the precise locations of their Patriarchs and, above all... we need to find the location of the closed-door isolation of their slumbering Ancestors in the Holy King and Quasi-Holy King Realm."
Sienna, the Mirror Maiden, took the floor, her smile widening, showing a row of perfect, white teeth.
"You have absolute permission from the Patriarch to extract this information using any method you deem necessary. There are no moral rules. Infiltrate the prosperous commercial cities. Extort, buy, or destroy the leaders of the local thieves' guilds. Buy off the information brokers of the underworld, or simply kidnap, interrogate, and torture to madness the citizens, elders, and direct disciples of those sects themselves if they cross your path. They are immensely large, fat, and noisy forces on this continent; it will not be difficult to track the scent of their opulence. They are bulky prey... and we, my dear children, are the pack of wolves hunting in the dark of the night."
The youths nodded in unison, their auras merging into a single entity of pure murderous intent.
"But you will not be alone in this final assault," Lilith added, her tone dropping an octave. "For this gigantic logistical operation, Lady Sienna and I will be directly supervising your advances from the shadows outside. We will divide the squads to cover more ground, but we will maintain a constant link. And what is infinitely worse for them... we have invited Grand Marshal Vexia to join the hunt."
A collective shiver, cold and piercing, ran down the spines of the forty-five Sequences. They knew Vexia. They knew her meat grinder. If Vexia was involved...
"The Marshal is extremely eager to test her new metal toys on living, breathing prey," Sienna whispered, her voice laden with playful terror. "And she needs to secure the living trophies and high-quality bodies the Patriarch requires for his future experiments."
If Vexia, Sienna, and Lilith went out onto the outer battlefield at the same time, leading the Sequences and backed by heavy infantry... it was no longer a simple hunt for information. It was a symphony of apocalyptic-grade extermination.
Lilith straightened to her full, imposing height, her gaze sweeping over each of the forty-five youths, injecting her unshakeable fanaticism and devotion directly into their young souls.
"This is the decisive moment, my children. This is the moment we will force the entire world to know what the Morningstar Clan is capable of. We are going to send an irrefutable message, written with the boiling blood of these two factions. A message that will cross continents and arrive loud and clear to the ears of all the false emperors and sects who believe themselves masters of this world. And above all... a message directed at our greatest enemies on the horizon: the Cryon Clan."
The name of that ancient and powerful faction, one of the Five Great Hegemonic Families of the immense Northern Empire, with which the clan had clashed violently at the beginning of its bloody ascent, resonated in the great metal room like the tolling of an execution bell, a lethal warning from a past that demanded closure.
"Let them prepare," Lilith's voice rose, resonating with a quasi-divine majesty and authority that physically vibrated the impregnable walls of the Void Herald. "Because all those who commit the audacity to get in the way of the Morningstars only have one guaranteed destiny in the karmic cycle: absolute death and the eradication of their lineage."
Lilith slammed her closed fist onto the surface of the tactical table, her eyes burning with the unshakeable promise of eternity.
"On this long road to the top, either we die, or they die. There is no middle ground. There are no truces under any circumstances. There are no diplomatic negotiations. And above all... there will be no mercy for anyone who does not kneel. Peace was never an option for us. The Patriarch will be the only one to rule the confines of this world, and the entire universe will learn to bow its head. Prepare to march!"