Chapter 297: Chapter 296: Needy discussions
The Elder sneered within his hood, his white, spiked teeth flashing for just a heartbeat inside the shroud of darkness. It was not the sneer of victory nor confidence—it was the sneer of one who believed patience would serve better than force.
Atlas had accepted his words, not with belief, but with something else, something hidden. The Elder knew it. He had seen that flicker—the way Atlas’s silence held weight, not emptiness. That silence was not trust; it was calculation.
And calculation meant use.
Aurora looked down at the floor around them. Three demon kings sprawled broken, their once-mighty bodies now little more than heaps of twitching ruin.
Their armor was cracked, their horns splintered, their blood thick and steaming, seeping through the blackened stone.
Once feared names, now pathetic whispers at the edge of death. Pride had been their shield, and Atlas had shattered it like pottery.
It should have felt like victory. Yet the hall reeked not of triumph, but of foreboding.
And then wings—ragged, quivering—sliced the silence.
Lidia stumbled into the chamber, collapsing to one knee as her body convulsed from exhaustion.
Her wings shivered, feathers molting and drifting like ash. She had spent everything flying to reach them. Her chest heaved, lips trembling, eyes wide as they fell upon the wreckage. The sight struck her like a blade—her rivals, her predators, her nightmares—laid low.
She gasped. "What... what happened...?"
Aurora tilted her head toward Atlas without a word. The gesture was enough. Lidia’s gaze followed and locked upon him—the lone figure standing tall amidst ruin, fire still breathing faintly from his skin.
Her heart leapt, her body surged forward, and before she could think she was in his arms.
She collided with him hard enough to make even Atlas stagger a half-step. Her arms clutched around his waist, her head buried against his chest. The scent of ash and blood filled her nostrils, and she trembled as tears broke through. She pressed her lips to his cheek in desperation.
"You... you left me," she sobbed. "You left me there. Do you know what it felt like? To wait, not knowing if you—"
Atlas’s hands pried her gently, yet firmly, away. His voice was stern, iron beneath flame. "Because they needed a ruler there. That was your duty, Lidia. You don’t abandon a throne because you feel lonely." His eyes narrowed. "Why did you follow me? Why waste yourself to chase me here?"
The words cut her deeper than any blade. She flinched but did not let go completely.
The Elder’s shadow shifted, as though her display had disturbed him.
Azezal’s hooves clicked irritably, tail lashing as though her very presence had stolen attention from where he believed it belonged.
Both demon and elder muttered words like weapons, each vying for Atlas’s ear, each trying to twist his attention toward them.
But Atlas did not listen. His hand rested heavy on Lidia’s trembling shoulder, neither tender nor cruel, but final.
The Elder sneered within his hood, his white, spiked teeth flashing for just a heartbeat inside the shroud of darkness. "You move with such arrogance," he hissed, voice sliding across the floor like venom. "Do you think your fists alone will carry you forward, prophet?"
Atlas’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The Elder knew that silence held weight. Not trust. Not agreement. Calculation. And calculation, he knew, meant use.
Aurora’s third eye flickered faintly, the skin around it twitching as though her body itself rejected the Elder’s presence.
She muttered under her breath, ’Why would he allow this... another shadow at his back? What game is he playing?’
The Elder’s voice drew a slow, deliberate rasp from the shadows. "...oh prophet, listen to me and all of hell can be yours...the Fourth layer, the fifth and the sixth....so you need me, prophet you need me.."
Atlas’s gaze flicked to him, unblinking. "I walk where I need. Nothing else matters until I reach the entrance....not your shady advices. And your fucking promises.."
Azezal shifted, tail flicking nervously...he knew as an elder himself once. How much authority an elder held.. "Master, perhaps we should hear him out... he speaks with knowledge of those who move unseen," he murmured, voice low, hesitant. "He has... information we do not possess."
The Elder’s teeth glimmered again in a brief smile. "See? Even your closest companion, prophet, acknowledges my value. You cannot strike all the shadows, but I... I can guide your hand."
Atlas’s jaw tightened. He almost spoke a word of dismissal, but he paused, sensing the careful weave of the Elder’s manipulation.
Aurora’s tone broke the silence, sharp and brittle. "Do not think he comes out of generosity. He seeks position, and will take it through subtle poison if not by blade."
The Elder leaned slightly, voice softening with a silky menace. "Ah, but you misjudge me, girl. I am no enemy here. I offer survival, strategy... foresight. The demon king at the gates of the Fourth Layer is not the only threat you face.
Demi-gods roam the Second Layer now, hunting in packs. Do you wish to face them blindly?"
Atlas exhaled slowly, his chest rising like coiled steel. "And you think me incapable of handling them without your guidance?"
"Not incapable," the Elder replied smoothly, "but untested. And untested mortals bleed... heavily... and often. Better to have allies whose patience spans centuries, than enemies who hide behind flattery."
Azezal shifted again, hooves scraping the marble, tail curling nervously. "My lord... perhaps we can use him. But... my lord, I will say this again. My words bear more truth than his ever will..." His voice lowered, a whisper meant for no one but the prophet. "I have a responsibility... a path forged from your blood. Do not let his words—"
"—twist your mind," Atlas finished for him, golden eyes piercing Azezal’s. "I know my path, Azezal. And do not remind me of bargains. You’ve made yours. I’ll keep mine."
Lidia’s voice broke in suddenly, trembling yet firm. He knew about the so called elders. Faced them, experienced the even..."Atlas, do not... allow him to... manipulate your focus! He smiles, but it hides teeth sharper than any blade you’ve faced!" She stepped forward, wings trembling, feathers like dark embers shaking in the dim light.
The Elder tilted his head, amused. "Ah... the heart speaks," he said, voice like silk over steel. "But hearts do not decide strategy. Only foresight can spare lives... or choose which lives matter."
Atlas’s hand drifted to Lidia’s shoulder, pressing lightly. "Quiet now. You’ve flown too far, spent too much energy chasing me here. You will not bleed with me tonight."
Lidia’s eyes filled with frustration and tears alike. "And you? Do you plan to sleep as if nothing awaits? The Second Layer roams... the Fourth waits... and here you sit, as if gods themselves will hold the line."
Aurora’s voice, colder than stone, cut through the tension. "Enough. The night will serve more than pride. Even you, Atlas, cannot march forever without breaking. Sleep, for once. And let them... dance in their own plots."
The Elder’s mouth curved slightly in a sardonic smile. "Sleep? Wise advice. But remember this, prophet: time spent resting is time given to the unseen forces moving against you. I do not seek to command, only to remind."
Atlas rose slowly, his golden eyes catching the faint glow in the red-veined marble. "You remind well. But remember, shadow: you walk at my mercy. Not the other way around."
The Elder tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Do you truly understand the path you walk? There are layers of power you have yet to perceive, mortal. You may strut among demons and kings, yet a single misstep will doom the balance."
Atlas’s hand twitched near his belt, where the heat of his inner fire pulsed beneath skin. "I’ve never misstepped."