Thomas silently observed the silver-haired boy before him.
He had received a message while in his private tent, a text from an unknown number instructing him to meet here, under Azriel's orders.
Normally, he would have been skeptical, but the nod from Azriel made him comply.
'Cadet Nol... A silver-haired boy was reported staying in the Crimson Mansion these past few months...'
As the right hand of the Frost King, it was his duty to gather as much information as possible, whether it came from allies or enemies.
But here was the problem—he didn't get much about this boy.
Nol hadn't stood out in the rankings for the first year, and yet...
'Intermediate rank...'
Thomas mused, though he knew it was a facade.
This boy wasn't ordinary.
He was strong, too strong for his age.
Nol stood there silently, a smile playing on his lips, as Thomas asked.
"Who exactly are you?"
Nol blinked before chuckling softly.
"Me? I'm like you, Grandmaster Thomas. The true sword of my master."
"Are you referring to Prince Azriel?"
Nol nodded, his smile brightening.
"Exactly! Just as you are the right hand of the Frost King, I am the right hand of my master. I'm here on his orders, as your presence may be needed if... well, things get complicated."
Thomas inwardly felt perplexed.
A boy this young, serving the prince?
While master-servant relationships weren't unheard of, there were still laws preventing those under eighteen from being forced into such roles.
Which meant... Nol was serving Prince Azriel willingly.
'What about his parents?'
Thomas wondered but held the question back.
The fact that Nol had been living in the Crimson Mansion likely meant his relationship with his family was... complicated, if it existed at all.
Nol had no memory of his parents, nor did he know anyone before Azriel.
His earliest recollections were of White Haven, and the first person he had ever met was the prince.
Thomas sighed, softening his tone.
"Prince Azriel must trust you a great deal to send you here. If I may ask, why?"
"Of course, he trusts me. I know him better than anyone. As for why you're here..."
Nol tapped his storage ring, and a small device appeared in his hand.
"It's because of this—a void artifact."
Thomas's eyes widened.
'A void artifact? Such a modern-looking device?'
It resembled something as ordinary as a tablet, yet this was anything but ordinary.
Void artifacts were rare, and this one... felt even more unusual.
As if sensing his thoughts, Nol continued.
"This isn't a normal void artifact. It's artificial, made by Neo Genesis—or at least, that's what my master and I believe. Someone in Neo Genesis has the ability to create void artifacts."
Thomas felt a jolt, as if struck by a heavy blow.
"Artificially made? That's..."
The implications were staggering.
If Neo Genesis had someone who could manufacture void artifacts, it would change everything.
The power shift would be unimaginable.
If that were true, Neo Genesis was far more dangerous than he'd ever considered.
"What does this void artifact do?"
Nol nodded, narrowing his eyes at the device.
"There aren't many one. It acts as a locator, allowing those who possess it to track each other's positions, as long as they're on the same floor in the void dungeon. It might even work in the void realm, though with a limited range."
Thomas's expression hardened.
It was impossible to use current technology or equipment to locate within the void dungeon or realm.
Scientists theorized it had to do with the mana or frequencies in those places.
"If we're here... and you have that device..." Thomas trailed off, realizing what it meant.
Nol nodded, glancing up at the building's rooftop ladder.
"Someone with a similar device is here, in the capital, waiting."
Nol turned to Thomas.
"For the sake of our masters, wouldn't it be wise to greet them?"
Nol's smile widened. Thomas, his expression darkening, gave a brief nod.
If there was indeed someone on the rooftop, he should have sensed it.
Which meant the person was either on the same level as him, or stronger, or perhaps using another void artifact.
Regardless, none of those were good options.
Thomas grew more cautious, approaching the ladder, Nol stepping aside.
'Most who were captured killed themselves with poison hidden beneath their tongues... The capital is still recovering from the recent attack, and most are being treated or consoled by the heroes and soldiers.'
Another fight breaking out here would be disastrous.
Without the element of surprise, casualties would skyrocket.
His eyes flicked to Nol.
'He must have a plan, surely.'
Instead of climbing the ladder, Thomas gripped Nol's shoulders.
In an instant, they found themselves on the rooftop.
Nol blinked, startled.
"So this is the speed of a Grandmaster... I think I might throw up my heavenly meal."
Food was nearly as precious to him as his master.
As they approached the edge of the rooftop, Thomas's eyes widened.
A figure stood at the edge, gazing out at the streets below.
A man dressed in black.
Sensing their presence, the man turned.
Both Thomas and Nol froze.
A black cloth covered the man's eyes, yet he looked directly at them with a twisted smile.
A chill ran through their veins.
Something was deeply, disturbingly wrong with this man.
The man in black gave a slight bow.
"Pleased to meet you again, Grandmaster Thomas. And honored to meet you, Sir Nol. Delegates of King Ragnar Frost and Apostle Azriel Crimson."
Thomas felt the man's gaze despite the cloth over his eyes.
It made his skin crawl.
'Delegates... And Apostle Azriel?'
The word "delegate" told Thomas everything he needed to know.
This was a negotiation.
But what unsettled him was the title of "Apostle" used for Azriel.
"Would it be polite to ask the name of the man before me?"
The man in black chuckled darkly.
"Ah, we didn't have time to chat earlier, thanks to the Heptarch of Ruin. Well, I'm nobody."
Thomas scowled, while Nol remained unreadable, his gaze cautious.
The man's smile faded, replaced by a cold expression.
The air grew thick as he took a step forward.
Instantly, a greatsword materialized in Thomas's hand.
"Move any closer, and I'll cut you down."
The man stopped, sighed, and spoke in a detached tone.
"I'm here for one reason. I received a message from the Supreme Archon."
Both Thomas and Nol tensed at the name.
The true mastermind behind Neo Genesis.
"I have a message," the man continued.
"Tell your master, Sir Nol—tell Prince Azriel Crimson to surrender. The Supreme Archon is willing to forgive this... rebellion."
Nol's eyes darkened, fury simmering beneath the surface.
"How dare you? A lowlife like you and that Supreme Archon dare to command my master?"
For a moment, it seemed Nol might strike the man down, but he composed himself, his expression returning to calm.
The man in black remained silent before continuing.
"I'm only a messenger. The prince is on the wrong side. Surrender, and we will forgive the death of Heptarch Zoran. In fact, we offer Zoran's position to him."
Both Thomas and Nol were stunned.
Neo Genesis was offering Azriel a seat as one of their leaders.
'Is the prince really worth that much?'
Thomas thought, though he doubted the man's words.
Nol's lips curled into a dangerous smile.
"You've delivered your message, now let me deliver mine."
Suddenly, Nol tapped his storage ring.
In an instant, he was holding a severed head, tossing it at the man's feet.
"Master formally declines your job offer. But he sends his regards with this gift."
Nol's smile twisted further.
"Now you have all seven heads back."