“You didn’t have to come, you know.”

“And miss the chance to see what kind of environment could nurture such weaponized paranoia?”

Ogras scoffed, glancing at his hooded companion. “Don’t act like it hasn’t served you well over the years. Who knows what kind of mess you’d found yourself in without at least one voice of caution reining you in.”

“I know, I know,” Zac laughed while looking around. “It’s nice. I see where Azh’Rodum got its inspiration.”

Ogras took in the familiar sights of living homes, noting how little differences two decades of absence made. It almost felt like Azh’Rezak had been trapped in a Temporal Chamber during his absence. It was the same, yet different, after being observed through the lens of experience.

The capital’s grand buildings and unmatched energy density had felt like the peak of civilization, proof of his noble birth. He could still remember the envy he felt over the main branch monopolizing such benefits, and the schemes he’d weaved to extract just a sliver without attracting unwanted attention.

Azh’Rezak, the glistening pearl of his childhood memories, was barely fit to be called a hovel. A rational part of his mind had already been aware of this fact, but it was only after his arduous journey home he’d fully understood it.

He’d passed through over two dozen kingdoms, big and small. He’d seen true grandeur on continents holding greater populations than all of Zecia, where being a Hegemon didn’t even award high enough status to fly through the air. Even the remote worlds Ogras visited when tracking down his targets blew anything he’d seen in Zecia out of the waters.

The Azh’Rezak treasury wasn’t even worth the space it would take up in his Spatial Rings today. That bastard had stayed true to his word, claiming the bounties in his name. Thankfully, Ponel wasn’t completely heartless, leaving their treasuries intact. Most of the heretics were dirt-poor, which was an important reason why they relied on such sinister methods of progression in the first place.

A few had gained sizable fortunes through pillaging, though. Sinister traps always guarded the hoards, but few defenses could withstand K’Rav’s manipulations. While far from the 1,474 C-grade Nexus Coin bounties, he should have accumulated over 50 C-grade Nexus Coins in treasures and materials. Perhaps even more, provided the potential buyers hadn’t already emptied their coffers. It was a real risk if this was the state of affairs across Zecia.

While the city’s bones remained the same, there were clear signs of clan Azh’Rezak’s current predicament. Few walked the streets, and those they passed shared one of two common traits. Either they were missing any hint of spirituality, making them the lowest rung of mortals, or they carried grievous wounds from battle. The occasional child peered out from windows or tree crowns, but the bustle was all but gone.

All capable hands had been drafted into the clan’s failing war machine. The clan had initially fared relatively well, according to Zac’s accounts, but two years of constant struggle had left its mark. Azh’Rezak wasn’t the Atwood Empire. They lacked resources and foundations, which meant victories were hard-won and paid for in blood.

The gains from accruing contributions couldn’t outweigh the constant drain on manpower, and replacing veteran clan members with hastily trained civilians only weakened the armies. It had finally reached a breaking point where Clan Azh’Rezak could endure no longer.

You could say he’d appeared just in time. But to do what? Ogras still didn’t know.

“And you’re sure you didn’t hear anything?” Zac asked, saving Ogras from facing that nagging question.

“No, there were no signs of your little wife where your backroom deal sent me,” Ogras sent with a roll of his eyes. “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’ll even be back by the time we’re done here.”

“Let’s hope so. We’re running out of time,” Zac muttered.

Ogras grunted in agreement. He couldn’t believe how bad things were after just a few years. War seldom was this cut-and-dry. The Horde had fought against its mortal enemies for eons without either side gaining an edge. The same could be said about the Undead Empire’s eternal war against the living.

Was it even possible to get his hands on the final piece of his seal? It seemed as though the window had closed for seizing opportunities. It wasn’t that he was dissatisfied with what he gained instead, but what kind of fool would be content with their lot? Well, Zac mentioned he had a plan to deal with this mess. He and the rest of Zecia could only pray that the Deviant Asura could pull off another miracle.

“So how do you reckon she’ll react to suddenly having two men in her life?” Ogras grinned. “Actually, I did find an interesting dual cultivation technique involving clones during my travels. Want to take a look? Or are you half-single now? Is that fiery beauty back?”

“Alright, alright,” Zac laughed. “I have no idea, honestly. I haven’t thought that far. And no, Iz isn’t here yet. I’m also waiting for word on Kruta too. Oh, he’s the—”

“I remember,” Ogras said, getting a surprised look from Zac. “I don’t know. A lot of the details from the Perennial Vastness just became clear after I saw you and your new Deity. It’s like your special deal spread to me.”

“Interesting. Let’s hope that doesn’t extend to my enemies.”

“Well, most of them are your children now,” Ogras said. “I toured the island while waiting for you to come back. I saw some of them in the academy. Little monsters.”

“They’re growing up so fast. I’m not sure whether I should be relieved or regretful they’re too young to participate in the war. It would have been a huge opportunity for them,” Zac said before stopping. “So, decided what you wanted to do?”

Ogras sighed as he turned to the Ancestral Gate towering before them. It was crafted from the Deeparc Steel their founding patriarch collected during his travels and held the outer core of their Clan Protection Array. An array that currently wasn’t running, further proof of the clan’s strained situation.

“I guess I’ll just have a talk with the old goats and take it from there,” Ogras said, releasing the obscuring shroud around the two.

“Halt, who goes there!”

“A ghost from the past,” Ogras smiled and activated Gloaming Tide.

A sea of spear shadows welled from the ground, forming a twenty-meter tsunami that crashed into the gate. The early E-grade guards would have been ground to paste by the Middle D-grade skill if a group of illusory shadows hadn’t thrown them out of the way at the last second. The gates that had stood for 40,000 years were ripped from their foundations and punctured full of holes.

A resounding crash shook the ancestral mansion as a dust plume rose to the sky. Ogras glanced at his companion, who returned the look with a raised brow. Zac said nothing, but Ogras could see the unspoken question. ‘This is what you mean by talking?’

“I guess we’ve rubbed off on each other. I have to say, it doesn’t feel bad acting the brute for once,” Ogras grinned as they stepped over the rubble. “And a proper display of strength can solve most issues. This way, we won’t have to wait for long.”

Thousands of warriors poured out of the nearby buildings, yet none dared approach the two strangers who had forced their way into the manor. Neither did they dare desert their post, so they warily formed a half-circle at a distance. Ogras ignored the F- and E-grade warriors. Instead, he activated his scouting skill, quickly finding what he was looking for.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s up to you to decide how this chapter of Karma should be closed,” Zac said. “I’m just here as moral support.”

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“You mind dealing with the trio hiding in the corner in case they dare show up?” Ogras said, sharing the vision of his skill.

“Late D-grade?” Zac said, surprised rather than worried. “That’s fine. Shouldn’t be a problem for you, though?”

“I have a good idea who those people are. They’re not part of this, so it’s easier if you scare the outsiders away. Oh, here they come. Huh, they’ve improved.”

Twelve auras rapidly approached in the air, all of them familiar. Of course, the last time Ogras saw nine of them, they were just Peak E-grade Cultivators who’d been stuck at their level for centuries. Meanwhile, three of the old elders were missing, having fallen during the war. At the front, a stalwart warrior showing signs of age flew, surrounded by arcs of black lightning. Kerto Azh’Rezak, the fifth-generation patriarch of the clan.

“Lords, may I ask why you’ve visited my humble family this day? If one of my unfilial descendants has caused any unhappiness, Azh’Rezak will surely remedy the situation,” Kerto said with a bow, unable to hide the misgivings of having two powerful strangers pop up in such an overbearing manner.

Ogras had a sudden urge to embrace the role of a mysterious stranger and cause some trouble, but the worried yet determined expression on the old man standing to the side softened his heart. Ogras laughed as he removed his hood.

“I never thought I’d see such a look on your face, you hoary old bastard. Didn’t you always say that a warrior can bleed but never bend when you sent my siblings to their deaths?”

The elders looked at Ogras with confused apprehension, clearly unable to connect his current appearance with the young wastrel they sent away decades ago. Ogras couldn’t blame them. Because of his series of transformations, he only carried a passing resemblance to Torrid Demon. Even his features had changed for the better after multiple affinity-boosting encounters. However, one among the group was different, looking like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Oggy? Is that you?” a rough voice exclaimed as the old man took a hesitant step forward.

“Long time no see, Gramps,” Ogras grinned though his heart twanged with pain.

His Grandpa looked even more worn than before, with new scars covering his face. Okral Azh’Rezak lost his first horn long before Ogras was born, fighting as a mercenary for the clan. He was now also missing his second one, taken from an attack that had also claimed his left arm. It was generally considered a huge dishonor to be dishorned, and Ogras knew it had to weigh on a traditional mind like his grandfather’s.

There were ways to grow them back, but would the clan pay such a price when they wouldn’t even help him recover from wounds that had harmed his foundations? War was supposed to provide opportunities for those who fought and survived, and Ogras knew his grandfather wouldn’t have shied away from battle. And yet, his aura was weaker today than when Ogras saw him last.

His appearance, and that of the two other outer branch elders, was a stark difference from the rosy faces and clean robes of the main branch Hegemons. Knowing how things worked with these craven bastards, they must have commandeered his Grandpa’s merit, toting nonsense like the ‘greater good.’ The same was likely true for the resources Zac had secretly sent over.

“Look at you. You should have just used the Teleportation Token and left these old fools behind,” Ogras lamented.

“It was really you,” Okral said with a shaky voice. “You’re really alive.”

Ogras sighed. Communication had been intentionally cut after the incursion ended. The clan knew some had stayed behind out of fear of returning, but he was presumed to be dead with the others during the fight over the Fruit of Ascension. Ogras had chosen to keep things that way, embracing his role as Zac’s shadow.

He knew his grandfather had faced some punishment for the way the incursion played out. Thankfully, Rydel was the one who led the disastrous expedition that killed the main forces, despite his recorded disagreement. But if it became known Ogras survived and helped their killers?

Part of him had somewhat expected the Azh’Rezak Clan to figure out the truth anyway, but he’d underestimated how ill-connected his family was. The explosive events in the Tower of Eternity never reached his little home planet, and they never realized their incursion had been foiled by the famed Deviant Asura. Hell, they didn’t even know who he was until the Stars of Zecia-ladder came along.

However, rumors of Torrid Demons among the famed Atwood Empire eventually reached Clan Azh’Rezak, so they had likely begun suspecting a thing or two.

“But child, the commotion you’ve caused—”

“You! You actually betrayed the clan back then?!” an infuriated growl cut his Grandfather short. “I knew something was wrong! Where’s my son?!”

“Oh? I guess Rydel’s where I left him after I ran my spear through his heart. Well, his bones are, at least,” Ogras said, a ruthless smile appearing on his face. “I can’t believe a dog like you managed to step into Hegemony, if barely.”

“Bast—”

Words were swallowed, and anger was replaced by a brief flicker of horror when shadows ripped apart the patriarch’s second son. With such crude foundations, Ogras didn’t even need to use one of his skills. His shadows were more than enough. A shocked commotion shook the large square before a suffocating silence took over.

“The Main Branch is the same as ever,” Ogras lazily said as a calm glance passed between the elders. “I hoped some setbacks would have been enough to temper your attitudes.”

“Child, no matter what you’ve been through, your roots are with Clan Azh’Rezak. If you have grievances to address, we are willing to listen.”

“You want to talk?” Ogras said with a raised brow. “Can conversation bring back my siblings? I think it’s better to send you all on your way so you apologize in person.”

“Your siblings?” the patriarch said with a confused expression utterly incapable of fooling Ogras. Some of the elders were even worse, sharing worried looks full of guilt.

“Oggy, the clan has treated us well, and we’re facing a crisis. Why don’t we all take a step back?” his grandfather urged.

“Grandpa, I’m not you. I can’t suppress these matters,” Ogras gently said, turning back to the main branch elders. “I’ve always felt uncertain about what I should do if I returned. Well, seeing you all today finally gave me my answer.”

“Oggy, don’t—”

“I can’t erase the shadows of the past,” Ogras continued as the sky darkened, shrouding the manor in the gloom of his wrath. “But I can make them mine by killing all those who cast them.”

“Y—you! The council has officially met with the Lords of Erz’Kerus and accepted their gracious invitation!” the second elder shrieked as shadows began to climb up his legs. “The Lords will not tolerate this!”

His words were soon proven right. The three powerful auras who’d been content observing from a distance until now were finally on the move.

“Kick the dog, and the masters appear,” Ogras grinned.

“I did not know Clan Azh’Rezak had given birth to such an excellent descendant. Impressive, impressive!” the elder in the middle smiled as a fiery aura rebuffed the shadows around them. “Though I have to inform the young master that you are wrong on one point. Clan Erz’Kerus has raised the banner, sincerely inviting friends across the region to band together. The proud warriors of Azh’Kir’Khat can only survive this tribulation if we fight as one.”

“Save the recruitment speech,” Ogras snorted. “I’ve no interest in becoming a warslave for some local tyrant.”

The Heavens were ruthless, and those beneath it were no different. ‘Banding together’ was just a nice way of saying ‘recruiting cannon fodder while robbing their heritages.’ Erz’Kerus was only one of thousands of established clans doing the same. Most factions were pushed to the limits after two years of fighting, and the battlefronts didn’t relent.

Many saw no other way to survive than to disband their clan and sell themselves to a stronger faction that still had energy left to spare. Of course, these factions would only take the useful ones, leaving the rest to fend for themselves. The battlefronts would be split between the new and old factions. And since most of the population would be left behind, the abandoned would also have to carry most of the weight.

Ogras hadn’t expected a Late Hegemon to appear in their little fiefdom, but he guessed they weren’t specifically here for Azh’Rezak. They were making the rounds, snatching all Hegemons and talents across the planet. It was an easy sales pitch, considering the world would be teeming with cultists soon enough.

“Young man, we’re sincerely extending an olive branch,” the Middle D-grade accompanying the elder frowned. “We’re happy to hear you out, but any further disrespect will—”

“Will what?”

It was Zac, and his question was punctuated by an explosion of monstrous killing intent, which even made Ogras’s hair stand on end. It roiled through the mansion, forcing thousands of hardened warriors to their knees. Not even the elders could fully withstand it, paling before the onslaught. The awe-inspiring display accomplished its goal, yet it only left Ogras hollow. Just how much slaughter had his friend been forced to endure over the past years to keep the ship afloat?

“You—Who are you?!” the Erz’Kerus elder exclaimed while contracting his defensive domain to shield only himself and his two companions.

“Zachary Atwood of the Atwood Empire,” Zac said, removing his hood. “The one who’s been selling Cosmic Vessels to your bosses.”

The old man froze for a moment before his eyes grew into saucers. “Lord Atwood, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. It’s a great honor to meet the Star of Zecia! Can I ask what brought you here today?”

“Ask my friend.”

“I want the fourth and seventh branches,” Ogras calmly said when the attention was back on him. “Every man, woman, and child. As for what happens to the rest of Clan Azh’Rezak, I don’t care. But the Main Branch has conspired against me and my family, so I’m not comfortable leaving such a threat behind. Even if they join Erz’Kerus.”

“My lord!” Azh’Rezak’s patriarch exclaimed with horror. “The resources—”

“Ai, this old man has made a fool of himself, interfering in the internal matters of others,” the envoy cut the frantic patriarch off, taking out a shimmering token. “We have many more clans to meet, so we will not intrude on Emperor Atwood any longer. Should the young lords ever find themselves in this area again, we would be honored to host a banquet in your honor.”

“Mh,” Zac noncommittally said.

Ogras inwardly snickered when the trio escaped with all the speed they could muster. A proper display of strength could really solve anything. He turned to the horrified elders, darkness swirling in his eyes.

“Now, where were we?”

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