The Oracle Paths-Chapter 1048 First Pawn

?1048 First Pawn

"Can we rely on this intel?" A gruff, aged voice rumbled skeptically, its normally measured rhythm quickening imperceptibly upon hearing the news.

From the source of that voice, an opulent throne crafted from pure gold, its back adorned with spikes fanning out like the sun's rays, held an old man. He wore a pristine white linen robe, so immaculate it looked as though it had just been pressed. Healthy, lustrous hair cascaded over his shoulders, matched by a brilliantly white beard, meticulously groomed to perfection.

But it was the dazzling smile stretching across his face that was the most blinding of all. Those who addressed him found it nearly impossible to meet his gaze, making his true countenance known only to the other four members of the Radiant Conclave.

Indeed, this unassuming elder was recognized as Master Eldrion, one of the five most powerful Lifemancers of the Lustra Plains, reigning supreme over all but bowing to just one.

At that moment, the other four identical golden thrones lining the stained-glass windows of the spacious crescent-shaped room stood empty. Only Eldrion, who seemed perpetually on the verge of nodding off from the weight of governance, was present. But as the messenger knelt before him, Eldrion's previously languid gaze sharpened, piercing as if trying to strike the man down with a mere look.

The messenger, a man with the build of a lion, donned in gleaming golden armor, maintained his bowed position. With hands clasped in false-reverential fear, he declared in an even yet thunderous voice,

"It's confirmed. The Soulmancer King's hideout has been discovered. Defying all logic, he hasn't holed up in his capital under the protection of the Underworld Cascade. Instead, he's stationed at the headquarters of his armies in Havocspire Citadel. This is our chance to eliminate this puppet king and end this war with minimal losses. Without their king, the Dusken Throne is just a band of disorganized brutes, ripe for conquest."

Master Eldrion didn't respond right away, his gaze drifting towards the majestic view offered by the stained-glass windows. They were located at the very pinnacle of the tallest tower in the undisputed capital of the Lustra Plains: Lustris.

In the distance, squinting eyes could make out the monumental Heaven Cascade, unleashing a relentless torrent into the Lumyst River. The sheer life force in its waters was such that even the tiniest blade of grass along its banks grazed the clouds, while the most minute crab residing there competed with the most titanic behemoths-an enormous crustacean as towering as a skyscraper.

Any creature surviving near the Heaven Cascade was undeniably a force to be reckoned with. And all these beings were loyal to the Radiant Conclave, rendering Lustris virtually impregnable,

Dusken City, the newly established capital of the Duskwight Lands, was built at the base of the Underworld Cascade, seemingly challenging the Conclave's dominance. The vengeful souls wandering upstream were as formidable and vast as the beasts lurking below, yet notoriously untamable.

Thus, when an unknown Soulmancer King had established his Dusken Throne there, it had sent shockwaves across the Lustra Plains, with the Radiant Conclave at the helm being no exception. It was safe to assume that these formidable wandering souls had been completely enslaved by the new king...

This was precisely why Master Eldrion was so taken aback by the news. By leaving his Dusken Throne, the Soulmancer King had forsaken his most potent guard and the purest source of his power.

As powerful as he was, he was just a man, or rather, a barbarian. Now that they knew his location, they could easily end his life. Because unlike him, their Radiant Conclave wasn't made up of one individual, but five.

And among them, their ultimate leader, Celestial Valandar, was renowned as an invincible Lifemancer, so much so that none of the other four members of the Radiant Conclave dared challenge him...

Master Eldrion still hadn't responded to the messenger. His thick brows knitted together, deepening the lines on his forehead as he pondered the situation.

The Soulmancer King venturing beyond his walls was obviously a trap. The old man trusted the skill of their spies, but it seemed like a rather naive error for someone of the king's stature.

Unfortunately, the opportunity was also too golden to pass up. A chance like this to eliminate the Soulmancer King might never come again. After several moments of silent contemplation, the aged Lifemancer seemed to have finally made up his mind and declared with a heavy sigh,

"Thank you for your diligence... messenger. Head to the kitchens and claim a well-earned meal. I will inform the other four Lords of the Conclave"

Still with his gaze fixed on the pristine marble floor, the armored warrior emotionlessly thanked the revered and fearsome Lifemancer watching him from the throne and swiftly made his exit. But once outside, his docile and sincere facade melted away, revealing an expression of pure disdain.

'Finally done with that charade. Now, just to wait for the Radiant Conclave to bite.

As he moved towards the kitchens, relishing the thought of his promised meal, the candles and wax chandeliers burning peacefully in the corridor abruptly went out one by one, starting from the far end and moving toward him as if a fierce gust of wind was blowing his way.

The battle-hardened messenger immediately sensed impending doom and reached for his sword, but it was already too late. A slender hand clamped onto his face like a vice, plunging him into darkness.

The next moment... there was no next moment.

His soul was instantly yanked from his body, scanned and scrutinized by his assailant before being slightly altered and reinserted into its original vessel... with a malevolent addition."

Pulling her delicate hand away from her victim's forehead, a tall, willowy woman with an otherworldly beauty flashed a smile that was both smug and indifferent.

"This Duskwight Lands' spy makes the first pawn in what I predict will be a long line," she hummed, the icy detachment in her voice contrasting sharply with her melodic tone and angelic features. "I didn't expect to hit the jackpot this early. With this intel, reaching the rank of a 1000-commander should be well within my grasp, even if I reveal my true identity."

Because unlike most of the Players from the Lustra Plains, her appearance was far too unusual to blend in. There was a enormous variety of races serving the Radiant Conclave, but sadly, hers was not among them:

Her silvery-blue skin had an almost translucent quality, betraying her non-human origins, just like her claws, curved horns, and the nine tails trailing behind her, reminiscent of the tendrils of a colossal jellyfish. Her eyes were complete abysses, twin voids, and she moved with a serene, ethereal grace. Alien symbols glimmered faintly across her skin, pulsating whenever she wielded her powers. Though she wore no clothing, she was invisible to all.

This venomous beauty, like Jake, was one of the Rank 17 Oracle Knights who had recently entered this realm. With one crucial distinction: She played for the opposing side.

*****

Far from the conspiracies and machinations, Jake maintained his guise as a near-average recruit, assisting what remained of his regiment in piling up the bodies of their fallen comrades.

By the time they were done disposing of the corpses, a good chunk of the morning had slipped away. The wan sun was already high in the sky when the last embers from their incineration ceased to smolder.

Given the sheer volume of troops flowing daily through Grimstone Keep, and the daily rites taking place in the various chapels across the city, columns of smoke rising to the clouds were a common sight. The number of draftees dying every minute without even reaching the battlefield was nothing short of staggering.

They could have given these souls a proper burial, but with the city being a mandatory stopover for every regiment, there simply wasn't room. In just a few years of relentless skirmishes, millions, perhaps even billions of barbarians, had met their end during their first baptism.

The grim reality was that the vicinity of Grimstone Keep was strewn with mass graves, easily identifiable by the humble mounds overshadowed by hasty, massive stone epitaphs.

Faced with this environmental quandary, the lord of Grimstone Keep eventually yielded to public outcry. Taking a cue from Havocspire Citadel, which had adopted the practice some time ago for clear sanitary reasons, he ordered that the dead be cremated.

When the last funeral pyre finally died down, Jake's regiment let out a weary cheer and collapsed to the ground. But just as they thought they'd earned some rest and a warm meal, their commander barked out,

"What the hell are you slackers doing?! This isn't a damn vacation! If you want to rest, you'll reach Havocspire first. Chop chop!"

They seemed destined to be tortured by hunger until nightfall, but fate, it seemed, had another cruel twist in store for them. No sooner had they left Grimstone Keep than they were immediately attacked.