Reincarnated As The Villainess's Son-Chapter 359 [Wedding By Blood] [11] [Relic of Past]

[Princess Gwenyra's Palace]

[A few minutes ago]

Pope Donus's soft steps were entirely silent against the stone stairs that led them through a narrow pathway.

Just behind him, Alexander—the soon-to-be leader of their strongest knights—followed with sharp eyes.

The dark gray stone walls pressed in around them, making the already cramped stairway feel suffocating.

The knights trailing behind them moved with rigid precision, their senses razor-sharp.

Eventually, they arrived at a door that looked anything but a door.

There was no handle, no hinges—just dull, ancient runes carved into the stone.

Pope Donus stood outside the door, a bad feeling crept under his skin.

His breath echoed within the place, reminding them of the eerie silence.

The sheer pressure radiating from behind the door unsettled him.

Slowly, he turned to face his knights, his voice barely a whisper.

"I can't sense that girl." His gaze darkened. "She isn't here."

Alexander frowned. "What?"

"She's still in the city. Go find her," Donus ordered. "Kill her if possible."

"But what about your safety?" Alexander was quick to protest.

"We can't just leave you—."

"You think your pitiful strength is enough to protect me?"

Pope Donus shot back, with an annoyed look.

"If any of them decide to attack, you'd be dead before you even realize it."

Alexander bit his lip as he also acknowledged the fact.

Though he was sure nothing would happen with Gwenyra present, he too had a bad feeling about this.

"Don't worry. Even though weak, I still am a demigod."

Pope Donus assured as he took a step forward.

"Now go away."

Alexander bowed then turned on his heels marching out along with the others.

The moment Donus took another step, the runes flared briefly—and the door swung open.

He took a breath, steeling himself before walking in.

The first thing he noticed was her.

The tallest woman he had ever seen.

Gwenyra.

Everything and everyone around her looked insignificant—like ants beneath a titan's gaze.

Her eyes—two voids of absolute emptiness—shifted toward him.

She was nearly thirty meters tall, her well-proportioned body sculpted with an almost unnatural perfection.

Long, silvery-gray hair spilled across the floor, shifting slightly as she straightened on her elevated platform.

"Looks like everyone is here?"

Her voice boomed within the palace but it still was barely audible.

At her words, Donus took in his surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he studied the impossible vastness of the hall.

The room was clearly divided into three sections.

To the left sat the demigods of Akasha.

Edel of the high humans—his face aged yet striking—sat on a grand bench.

Edwin the vampire sat beside him, lost in his own thoughts.

And—.

Opposite them, on the far right, sat Mortis—the leader of the Asurans. His presence alone was suffocating.

At the very center, two figures occupied their own seats.

Valcina, the vessel of Primordial goddess Isis, sat with a gentle smile.

Esmeray, the vessel of Primordial goddess Anant, on the bench beside her, holding a glass of wine.

Then—.

On the far right, separate from the rest, sat a lone man.

One leg propped up on the bench before him, his posture radiated pure arrogance.

Ragnar.

Once hailed as the miracle child, the Avatar of the Three Gods—yet he had chosen none.

They all faced Gwenyra.

A suffocating tension lay between them, thick and heavy.

Pope Donus could feel it.

He strode forward, taking a seat on an empty bench, his eyes locking onto Ragnar.

He hated that man.

If given the chance, he would have killed him here and now.

But—.

For now, all he could do was glare.

-----

Gwenyra's void-like gaze drifted lazily across the room, amusement flickered within her expression.

How long had it been since so many demigods, from opposing sides no less, gathered in one place?

But—.

Her eyes quickly caught a gap.

Someone was missing.

"Where is Taishareth's vessel?"

Gwenyra asked looking at the platinum-haired woman.

Esmeray gracefully took a sip of her wine.

"Enjoying herself," she said smoothly, not even sparing Gwenyra a glance.

"I'll convey your words to her. Please, don't mind her absence."

Gwenyra's eyes narrowed slightly, but after a moment, she gave a small nod.

"Before we begin," a voice echoed through the hall.

Pope Donus.

His gaze was locked onto Esmeray, his expression one of barely veiled disdain.

"Remind me—what is this mere woman, who only recently reached Eternal rank, doing in our presence?"

Gwenyra noticed the look that Edel and Edwin gave as if asking the same question.

She just smiled at their naivety.

She wondered how they would react if they knew the truth—that Esmeray was at least as strong as they were, if not stronger.

"She is here because she is a vessel," Gwenyra answered.

"Even in your case, it is supposed to be Elohim's Avatar seated here. And yet, you show up."

Pope Donus's lips pressed into a thin line, though his silence made it clear he wasn't satisfied.

Still, one doubt of his was finally cleared.

Now he knew why the other two Popes hadn't been invited.

"I don't see anyone from the Kandam Continent."

Mortis asked, folding his hands.

"What about them?"

"They....refused my call," she admitted, though a slight strain laced her voice.

"Those beings like to isolate themselves, rotting away like mice in their own filth."

Silence stretched between them, but none denied her words.

The Kandam Continent had never played a major role in Lumina's history.

Their sheer size and resources meant they had never needed to expand—or involve themselves in anything.

But—.

"They won't be able to remain in seclusion forever,"

Gwenyra announced with a bright smile on her face.

"Now," she continued, shifting slightly, "before we move forward, let's make one thing clear."

Her eyes swept over them, her voice echoing with unmistakable authority.

"I knew most of you were here to ask for something."

She leaned forward, a glint of amusement in her void-like eyes.

"I also wanted something in return."

"So speak."

"Tell me what you desire."

Her gaze first landed on the vessels—especially on Valcina.

She knew what she wanted but still she waited for her response.

Valcina rose to her feet.

Even though she was nearly eight feet tall, she still looked small in comparison to Gwenyra.

Her yellow eyes looked up at Gwenyra.

"I need a new body," she said. "A healthy one that doesn't decay like this one."

Gwenyra smiled gently. "You have the perfect body yet you lose him."

Esmeray looked at her, she knew who she was referring to.

Azariah.

Valcina just nodded, sitting down as she had already thought of both.

The time when he was kidnapped.

"He is cursed," Valcina spat, though even she knew Gwenyra was right. "I can't take over—"

"You lose your chance," Gwenyra cut in, her voice calm, yet absolute.

"It's impossible to claim him now. And you know it."

Valcina bit her lower lip, possessing a child's body was far easier than an adult's.

Even if she tried she wasn't sure it would succeed.

Valcina was clearly aware how mentally strong that child was.

He survived the massacre of Phoenix without losing his mind.

"Any advice you want to give?" Valcina asked even though she wasn't expecting much.

She had lived long enough and yet she still wasn't fully aware of vessels.

"Go through your fifth awakening." Gwenyra advised looking at her. "Or wait for a new child to be born with incredible potential."

Valcina just nodded, sitting down as she had already thought of both.

Gwenyra then looked at Esmeray who still drank her wine.

"Esmeray?" She asked.

"I have nothing to ask from you." Esmeray replied gracefully. "Please continue."

Gwenyra's lips curled into a slight smile. She found herself liking Esmeray more and more.

Then—.

Her attention shifted toward the rulers of Akasha.

Edel had already requested a private audience with her, so she spared him no further thought.

Instead, her gaze settled on Edwin.

One of the most ambitious men in the room.

Noticing her scrutiny, Edwin stood, taking in a deep breath.

He straightened, glancing briefly at Ragnar, who, curiously enough, remained quiet.

"I have only one request," Edwin said, his voice firm. "The destruction of the elves."

Mortis's jaw clenched.

"..."

Gwenyra leaned back, crossing one long leg over the other.

Her chin rested on her palm as she studied him.

"And what exactly do you expect from me?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Surely, you don't expect me to kill them for you."

Edwin shook his head.

"No, I only need you to command the Demiurges."

His gaze burned with conviction.

"Wage war against the elves."

"Edwin!"

Mortis abruptly stood, his voice sharp with disbelief.

"What are you thinking!?"

Edwin didn't so much as flinch. Instead, he turned to Mortis, his expression unwavering.

"Stay out of this, old friend." His tone was calm, but there was a clear warning in his words. "I don't need your interference in my affairs again."

Mortis's glare intensified. "Have you lost your mind?"

When Baal and Molech attacked the world tree a few years ago and elves lost most of their fighting powers,

Vampires were ready to attack the elves on that very day.

It was Mortis who protected the elves.

And—.

And Edwin had never forgiven him for it.

"Are you not going to say anything, high elf?"

Pope Donus's voice echoed, addressing Ragnar.

"He plans to destroy your entire race."

Ragnar first glanced at Pope Donus who refused to meet his gaze.

Then—.

He glanced at Edwin.

"Do it. Kill every elf living in Lumina."

He said as if ordering him.

"Just make sure to leave the Gelard Highbloods alive. I promise to kill them myself, and I intend to keep that promise."

Mortis let out a short, derisive laugh. "You can try."

"But the moment you set foot in Akasha, it will be your last."

Ragnar smiled back, unbothered.

"Why wait?" he asked, rising to his feet.

His presence shifted—something far too dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

"Let's settle it now."

"Enough."

Finally Gwenyra said easing the tension. She turned back to Edwin.

"So… it wasn't you?"

Edwin frowned. "What are you talking about?"

A moment of silence stretched between them before Gwenyra finally spoke.

"The Demiurges were already preparing for war as we spoke,"

She said, her voice carrying an unmistakable weight.

"They claim the elves murdered their beloved princess."

A stunned silence settled over the room.

The reactions varied—some subtle, some not.

But Esmeray—.

She had the same stoic look on her face.

"Then I ask you to stop them," Mortis said, turning toward Gwenyra, his voice laced with urgency.

"We can't afford a war right now—"

"I'm not going to interfere with the war."

She said, shifting on her platform she sat straight.

"But I will make sure they both have an equal chance to win."

Edwin sat down quietly while he had already made up his mind to meet her in private.

Mortis exhaled heavily before sinking back into his seat as well.

"You won't be asking anything, will you?"

Gwenyra asked, smiling at Ragnar.

Ragnar shrugged while he sat down. "You can't give me what I want."

As Gwenyra shifted her focus to Pope Donus, he took that as his cue to stand.

But—.

She ignored him entirely.

A flicker of confusion crossed his face as he awkwardly sat back down, unable to comprehend her actions.

Then—.

"Now, it was my turn to make a request."

Gwenyra said, looking at everyone.

"Before that," she added smoothly, "let me tell you something—"

Her gaze swept across the room.

"The heavens are about to fall."

A confused look flicked across many faces.

"What do you mean?" Edel asked, looking at her.

"It means that things are going to change as we know them."

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees.

"The shell that had protected us was going to break, leaving us all vulnerable."

Her words left most of them puzzled, and she didn't blame them.

They were just blissfully unaware of the danger that was going to strike them.

Unlike the people of Kandam, the histories of other continents had been altered—erased—too many times.

"Think of it as the second coming of the gods."

Her voice echoed in the heavy silence.

"But this time we don't have 'him' to save us."

Most remained lost, unable to piece together who she meant.

Except for one.

Ragnar.

He tensed up slightly.

He knew she was talking about him.

Qaisel Ingrid Ayaan.

The one Ragnar considered his perfected self.

"My proposal is simple."

Gwenyra continued as she leaned back slightly.

"We work together in order to avoid it."

Laughter suddenly rang through the chamber, deep and mocking.

Pope Donus.

He let out a hearty chuckle, his eyes gleaming with disdain.

"You expect the Church to align with these imbecile vessels?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust.

"Careful, Donus."

Esmeray said, as she swirled the wine in her glass.

"Elohim won't descend to save you."

Anger immediately took over him as he stood up. "What do you say, witch!?"

Before Gwenyra could stop them, the door to the hall opened once again.

Everyone's gaze turned towards the door as a man walked in.

Esmeray's eyes glinted as she took notice of him as if she was waiting for him to arrive.

The man stood tall with long black hair that adorned his handsome face.

His diamond-like eyes, cold and piercing, landed on Ragnar.

The redhead recognized him in an instant.

Vamin Ingrid Ayaan.

Qaisel's last living relative.

Ragnar let out a laugh as he stood up. "You shouldn't have come here. I won't lose you twice."

Vamin smiled faintly. "We'll see about that."

"You're late, Vamin."

Gwenyra said, looking at him.

"The meeting starts a long while ago."

Vamin stopped right in front of her.

His diamond-like eyes stared at the giant woman.

"I am not here to join the meeting."

He said firmly, clenching his fist.

"I am here to trade."

Gwenyra's interest piqued.

She caught a glimpse of Esmeray subtly moving back to the edge of the hall but chose not to question it.

Instead, she asked, "Let's hear it, then."

Vamin's expression darkened as he raised a hand—pointing straight at Ragnar.

"I want his life."

And just like that, Gwenyra's intrigue plummeted.

Ragnar's lips curled into a smirk as he tilted his head.

"And in return?"

Vamin reached into his bracelet and pulled out a small object.

An orb.

Instantly, a thick wave of life energy flooded the room.

It was suffocating.

"I will give you this."

Gwenyra blurted out a single word. "Resurrection orb."

Vamin grinned. "Yes. The very same orb my ancestor crafts."

His pride was evident.

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"Even with its limitations, it can still bring back the dead."

A sharp gulp echoed within the hall.

No one knew who it came from.

But—.

Everyone desired it.

A few gazes flickered toward Ragnar.

"And what if I simply take it from you?" Ragnar asked, voice cold and calculating.

"You can't."

It wasn't Vamin who answered.

It was Gwenyra.

Her eyes gleamed with certainty.

"The orb was sealed. Only he can unlock it."

Vamin raised the orb higher, letting it hover just above his hand.

"Whoever kills Ragnar—" his grin widened— "gets the orb—."

But before he could finish—.

He felt it.

A sudden, stomach-churning sensation.

Something was wrong. His heart clenched.

His gaze snapped upward-

The orb-.

Was gone.

"Hm, I like it."

A voice echoed within the hall.

Everyone turned towards him.

A man stood leisurely near the edge of the room, dressed in an elegant vintage three-piece suit.

Sam smiled looking at Vamin. "Thanks for the gift, child."

Before anyone could react.-.

Gwenyra moved.

Faster than any of them could process.

The very air shuddered.

The hall-.

Shattered.

A single aftershock reduced the place to ruins.

A gut-wrenching rage-filled roar tore from Gwenyra's lips. "SAMYAZA!!"