Chapter 738: Witch Of Joy
[Author’s Note: The leaders of Forgotten Suns would be now called Generals. And only the Supreme leader would be called Leader. It’s to avoid confusion.]
...
The figure across from him let out a chuckle.
It wasn’t mocking, but it carried a weight that made Rhaegor-Kul’s scales prickle.
"Yes. He is not dead," the man said. "But... consider him dead. He cannot grow stronger and is stuck to reincarnate endlessly as a mortal."
Rhaegor-Kul’s jaw tightened. "Who can even do something like that to—"
He stopped.
A possibility struck him hard, silencing his tongue before the thought could finish forming.
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment he didn’t breathe.
"...is it him?" he asked quietly.
"Don’t ask about him." The man raised his hand, almost in warning. "Even talking or thinking about him is forbidden. I’d rather not get in trouble for that."
He lowered his arm slowly, as though dusting away the topic.
"Anyway, the plan should be easy enough. I will handle Nameless Death, while you all need to create chaos in the universe. Use the lower-ranked planets as hostages in your battle against Forgotten Suns, or use the souls living on them to bolster your techniques. Do whatever you want, but kick up dust."
Rhaegor-Kul became serious.
Until now, in the war, the Alliance had gone out of its way to avoid needless slaughter.
Destruction happened, of course, but there was a line they never crossed.
The reason had always been simple.
Prime Death.
No one wanted to be judged by him.
But if he was truly gone—or bound in some cycle that stripped his power—then that changed everything.
It changed too much.
"One of these gentlemen will help you," the man said, pointing toward the two massive dragons behind him.
Their scales gleamed like old iron under dim light.
Rhaegor-Kul glanced at one, then at the other, as if asking which of them would remain by his side.
The man chuckled darkly. "He has other matters to handle. Don’t concern yourself with that."
...
In the end, Ancient Dragon Kram stayed with the Alliance.
Ancient Dragon Gram, on the other hand, spread his wings and left.
He moved across the universe with a relentless pace, calling out to brethren who had hidden for countless years.
When those willing to rise again stepped forward, the man issued his next command with chilling clarity.
"Help the Alliance to raid the home planets of the leaders of the Forgotten Suns."
The dragons nodded their heads in acknowledgement, baring their fangs.
Finally, they could have their revenge against that bloodline.
The sound of their wings filled the air moments later, and the void itself seemed to tremble as they departed.
...
Headquarters of the Forgotten Suns
Inside the heart of their stronghold, the generals gathered.
The chamber was vast and layered with wards, the walls shifting faintly as if alive, but the atmosphere inside was heavy and grim.
Grimrei Y’rul, the supreme leader, sat at the head of the table.
His expression betrayed nothing, but his eyes held the weight of too many years.
Across from him, seven generals sat in silence before the first spoke.
"They are attacking our Stage 1 and lower-ranked planets and using them as hostages," said a broad-shouldered alien named Rikar.
His skin gleamed faintly silver, and the tone of his voice carried sharp edges of frustration.
"They are even going after our home planets," added another, a lean reptilian general with dark-green scales. His name was Saelor, and his forked tongue flickered nervously between words.
"You need not worry about that," Grimrei muttered. His voice was steady, though not comforting. "I’m moving our planets rapidly across the universe. It’s impossible for their location to be tracked."
"Is it, though?"
The voice belonged to a boy who looked out of place among them.
A white-haired human with striking blue eyes, no older than seventeen by appearance, leaned back in his chair.
His name was Kane, the Sword Saint.
And though his frame was unassuming, the smirk on his lips made several generals bristle.
"You were defeated last time," Kane said. "That alone is proof that your abilities — given to by the Supreme of Space — can be breached. And this time, it seems some sort of ancient powers have joined the Alliance’s side."
"Silence, human!" Ilyana spat, her robes rustling as she leaned forward.
Her glare could have killed a lesser being, but Kane only smiled in response.
"No," Grimrei interrupted, holding up his hand. "He is right."
His sigh carried into the chamber.
"We were too confident in the power of the Supreme last time. We thought it was enough, that it was invincible. That arrogance led to our crushing defeat."
The mood sank deeper into gloom.
Memories none of them wanted to revisit resurfaced in silence.
Once, the Forgotten Suns had three Supremes and thirty-one generals, all standing proudly at Stage 6.
Their might had shaken the fabric of the Golden Domain.
But betrayal had struck them from within.
One of the Supremes had murdered another, shattering the unity of their order.
The Alliance had seized that moment, striking when they were fractured.
Most of their generals had been slain, and the once-proud Forgotten Suns had been humbled almost beyond repair.
If not for Zeus, that day fifteen thousand years ago, they would have vanished entirely.
Grimrei leaned forward. "Is there any news about Zeus? We need him now more than ever."
"I don’t know." Kane shrugged, his voice casual, though the weight of his words was not. "Some weird guy, covered in smoke, came to meet him. He hasn’t contacted me since then."
"What if Zeus is in danger?" Saelor asked, his reptilian tongue clicking against his teeth. "That strange man you mentioned. Je could have been sent by the Alliance."
"It’s Zeus we’re talking about. He can handle whatever the Alliance throw at him," Kane replied offhandedly.
The words hung in the chamber, and though no one responded, no one challenged him either.
Zeus’ name was as the Invincible was there was for a reason.
After a moment, Grimrei asked again, "Is there any news about the Witch who created the Wards?"
"Forget about it," Kane said flatly. "That crazy woman only cares about profits. She didn’t even care when her own descendant was killed by Nameless Death. She won’t help us. She’ll just keep selling her wards to both sides."
A silence spread through the chamber.
The leaders exchanged looks, but none of them spoke further.
Each of them knew Kane was right.
The Witch of Joy cared for nothing beyond her own gains.