Published at 23rd of February 2026 6:43 am

Chapter 1528 Striking Range

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In the great City of Everlasting Warmth, as the day's grand festivities began and the sun crept across the horizon, the delegates of every member state gathered inside the City Hall.

One by one, they took their seats and began discussing policies and decisions that would shape the Sovereign Union for the foreseeable future.

Marlow Fireborn sat at the big round table, along with representatives of the other member states that made up the Sovereign Union. Behind him stood several nobles from the Ignisra Kingdom, just as nobles from the other states stood behind their own lead representatives.

Gillian, who was standing right behind the Prince, bent over and whispered, "Still no word of him, Your Highness."

A slight frown appeared on Marlow's face as he nodded. He turned his attention back to the meeting at hand. The Sovereign Conclave was about to begin in the next few minutes.

Yet one thought constantly echoed in his mind:

Where is Nilrem?

***

Twilight Brotherhood Headquarters.

In the council meeting room, Uther Bowman, Kenton Hastings, and Agron Yaeger had already arrived.

There was nothing suspicious about the timing of this meeting, since it had already been agreed upon several months ago.

The upper echelons of the Brotherhood were to come together to discuss the security of the city on such a special ocassion such as the Sovereign Conclave.

However, they were slightly puzzled as to what was taking the rest of the Councilors so long. After all, the Conclave was about to begin within the next couple of minutes.

Agron Yaegar was the first to display his dissatisfaction, "Why the hell are they making us wait? Do they think we have no other businesses to attend to?"

Kenton Hastings remained silent, offering a brief nod. Meanwhile, Uther Bowan displayed no emotions at all. His eyes were closed, and he looked calm and composed.

Seeing that peaceful look on the old man's face, Yaegar sneered. "Screw this," he spat as he rose to his feet. "I'm leaving."

Right at that moment, three figures entered the chamber.

Berger, standing at the forefront, casually smoked from his pipe. He glanced at Yaegar and politely smiled, "Forgive me, my friend. I got caught up in some personal matters."

Yaegar frowned at the gnome, but in the end, he nodded and sat back down.

"Good morning, fellow Councilors," Shaw Jidu greeted everyone with a friendly smile.

Even the reserved Carlton Yates greeted the others and said, "Since the Conclave is about to be underway, let's keep this short."

Bowman finally opened his eyes and glanced at Yates. His eyes squinted, and he nodded. "Indeed, let us keep this short."

Everyone had taken a seat. Everyone except Berger.

Bowman turned to the gnome, who was still standing by the towering stone doors. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

For some reason, he felt a vague sense of foreboding well up in his heart. Bowman looked past the gnome and noticed that the hallway and corridors outside seemed oddly… empty.

"Where are the guards?" He couldn't help but ask.

Berger didn't respond immediately. He took out a marble disk from his storage artifact and injected mana into it. A moment later, the doors closed on their own. Completely sealed.

"You don't know?" The gnome arched a brow. "All our operatives have gathered at the main hall."

Bowman slowly rose to his feet, the forboding feeling within his heart intensifying. "I wasn't made aware of this."

"Of course, you weren't," said Shaw Jidu with the same friendly smile. "It's something Berger, Carlton, and I decided at the last minute."

As he said those words, he, too, retrieved a similar marble disk. Following that, the ceiling of the meeting chamber rumbled slightly, causing dust particles to cascade downward.

"What're you doing!" By now, even Yaegar had realized that something strange was going on.

"Precautions," Yates muttered in a flat voice as he injected mana into his own marble disk.

With another faint rumble, the ground beneath them trembled. Now every inch of the chamber was reinforced, and no one could escape without the disks.

Instinctively, Yaegar and Hastings rose to their feet and gathered beside Uther Bowman, who by now already had a dark scowl on his aged face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yaegar growled in rage. "You're sealing this chamber? Are you out of your mind?"

Suddenly, something clicked in Bowman's mind. He looked at Berger, Yates, and Jidu with a grim look on his face. He then said with a look full of disbelief:

"Don't tell me… did you find it? All of them? Impossible!"

Berger's lips slowly curled into a cold smile as he exhaled a thick plume of smoke. "The Cult of Bones can have a mole in the upper echelons of the Brotherhood, but we can't have one of our own in your despicable cult?"

The smoke around him thickened, taking form.

When Bowman heard the gnome's words, his eyes gradually widened. He quickly understood that someone within the Cult must have supplied Berger with the keywords needed to uncover the list of all compromised Wardens.

What shocked him even more was the implication behind it, that someone had managed to infiltrate the upper ranks of the Cult itself, and then successfully leak classified intelligence!

A drop of cold sweat trickled down the side of his forehead.

"What's the matter, ya cunt?" Berger radiated an aura brimming with dark killing intent. "Cat got your tongue?"

At the same time, his shadow stirred, and from it a black wolf began to take shape. Blackie grew steadily in size, solidifying as he emerged, until he finally bared his sharp fangs at the traitors.

Four against three.

Bowman and the traitors understood the situation at once.

There was no longer any need for words.

Only one thing mattered now: who would walk out of this room.

As smoke spread through the chamber, slow and relentless, Berger stepped forward as he coated his tyrannical mana around his fists.

"I shall offer your heads as sacrifice to my beloved mentor's soul."

And then, the chamber was engulfed in smoke, blood, steel, and magic.

***

Over a hundred miles north of Springdale, across a wide, open plain, the Winter Lord moved steadily through the land.

He wore dark robes that trailed lightly behind him as he walked. White hair fell past his shoulders, and his blue eyes were cold and clear, fixed forward without hesitation.

The man could have flown. He clearly had the power to do so. Yet he chose to walk instead, each step unhurried as though time itself bent to his will and nothing ahead of him could alter the outcome of what he had set out to do.

Suddenly, the Winter Lord's eyes narrowed.

In the distance, a dark-robed, hooded figure sat casually atop a boulder. A dark silver mask covered his face. He did not move. He did not hide. He simply waited, as if he had known exactly when and where the Winter Lord would arrive.

The white-haired Elder of the Inner Circle did not slow his advance. He calmly walked toward the masked man until the distance between them was well within striking range.

"Who are you?" The Winter Lord asked coldly.

Beneath the mask, Adam's lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"I am… no one."

The Winter Lord continued to watch him in silence. He did not advance recklessly. The aura radiating from the masked man was unmistakably dangerous, even though he was only casually sitting.

Adam's smile widened.

"Sometimes," he said, "an author must protect his characters and guide events toward the outcome he has envisioned."

He rose to his feet, flexed his shoulders as he prepared for battle.

"So if you must know," he continued.

"I am the plot armor."

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