Emperor's Reckoning

Rakumtatak's grin widened as he turned over, leaning against the balcony ledge, his gaze fixed on the distant cities. He snorted a laugh, the amusement apparent in his eyes. "Oh, it was rich, Torga."

Lyon, still puzzled, furrowed his brows. "What are you talking about?"

"On that day, I was secluding myself," Rakumtatak's gaze turned vacant, his mind seemingly transported back to the events in Sixth Hell. "I knew of your death," he continued. "That day, I heard disturbances in Sixth Hell, as if a warrior seeping with killing intent was rushing toward Purgatory, the source of anti-mana. No phantom could hide that exploding will to kill," he added, furrowing his brows in contemplation.

Lyon's eyes widened in realization. The pieces started to come together, forming a mosaic of intrigue and danger. "Liu... he went to Purgatory after hearing about my death?" Lyon muttered, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Rakumtatak nodded, his gaze sharp. "Aye, and what's even more intriguing is that he sought the source of anti-mana. There's more to his actions than meets the eye, Torga."

Rakumtatak's revelation left Lyon both intrigued and concerned. "Well, he failed, he didn't even reach Zenith Cultivation Level yet," Rakumtatak stated matter-of-factly, his words carrying a hint of amusement.

"But by anti-mana, did he fail ever so gracefully, and that's coming from an orc," Rakumtatak added with a snort of laughter, crossing his arms.

Lyon couldn't help but shake his head at the peculiar situation. The thought of Liu attempting such a daring feat, even if unsuccessful, painted a vivid picture of the enigmatic Phantom's determination and strength.

Rakumtatak turned over, facing Lyon directly. "I peeked at Purgatory, visiting the place silently. You wouldn't believe it, oh wait... you would... those black wings scattered everywhere with blood smeared on it. The pool of blood and heads rolling with mouths gaped open. Incredible sight, like a war, but from a single man against an entire realm."

The description sent a chill down Lyon's spine. The imagery of a lone warrior, with black wings stained in blood, facing the horrors of Purgatory alone was both awe-inspiring and unsettling. It hinted at a level of power and determination that transcended the ordinary.

Lyon's brows furrowed, an expression of deep contemplation etching his face. He stared at his palms, as if searching for answers in the lines of his hands, his features reflecting a mixture of sorrow and confusion.

Rakumtatak observed Lyon's reaction, his gaze steady and understanding. "It's beyond logic, of what a man, a cultivator, can do when they have a purpose greater than life. He plunged into that knowing that he wouldn't win."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lyon finally voiced the question that lingered in his mind.

Rakumtatak smirked, his orcish features emphasizing the amusement in his expression. "Because I sure as hell wanted to know if someone wanted to avenge me, especially at that scale and that risk, and from someone close to boot."

Lyon's brows furrowed, an expression of deep contemplation etching his face. He stared at his palms, as if searching for answers in the lines of his hands, his features reflecting a mixture of sorrow and confusion.

Rakumtatak observed Lyon's reaction, his gaze steady and understanding. "It's beyond logic, of what a man, a cultivator, can do when they have a purpose greater than life. He plunged into that knowing that he wouldn't win."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lyon finally voiced the question that lingered in his mind.

Rakumtatak smirked, his orcish features emphasizing the amusement in his expression. "Because I sure as hell wanted to know if someone wanted to avenge me, especially at that scale and that risk, and from someone close to boot."

Lyon absorbed the weight of Rakumtatak's words, realizing the magnitude of Liu's actions. The sense of responsibility and the complex web of connections in Fifth Hell unraveled before him.

"We're both emperors," Rakumtatak continued, his tone serious. "But really, at the peak of cultivation, there were only you and I, and our host."

"How does death feel like?" he asked Lyon, his tone carrying a weight of curiosity and something more. Rakumtatak's question hung in the air like a heavy fog, shrouding the balcony in an unspoken tension.

Lyon shook his head, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "I have no idea. I can't even remember how I died."

Rakumtatak sighed, his broad shoulders slumping slightly. "Well, it was worth a shot to ask."

Lyon offered a wry smile, "Sorry to disappoint you."

"What I'm disappointed by is how weak you are," Rakumtatak stated bluntly, shrugging his shoulders. "The old you would have given more fight."

Lyon's smile waned, acknowledging the truth in Rakumtatak's words. "Perhaps so..."

Unexpectedly, Rakumtatak approached Lyon, the air shifting as the orc emperor's tone softened. "Enough. I've said what I've said. Welcome back to the world of the living, Torga."

Lyon was taken aback, not expecting such a warm sentiment from an enemy, especially an orc emperor. However, Lyon chose that moment to break the warm atmosphere. "I've killed one of your descendants back on the Mortal World."

The atmosphere shattered into silence. The weight of Lyon's revelation hung in the air, the unspoken understanding between enemies threading through the balcony like a taut wire.

Rakumtatak snorted, a wry smile playing on his orcish features. "I know you, Torga. You don't kill for sport... besides, so many orcs are claiming to be my descendants as if all women cradle my balls or something. You and I know that the higher our cultivation level, the harder it is to find a compatible woman who could create such a miracle."

Lyon was taken aback by the orc emperor's candid humor as Rakumtatak walked past him. The orc waved his hand dismissively as he headed back toward the dining table. "If you feel remorse, take those beatings I gave you as a way to alleviate that."

Lyon turned and watched as Rakumtatak resumed his seat, seamlessly blending back into the revelry. The orc's words lingered, offering a peculiar mix of insight and unexpected camaraderie. The complexities of their interactions spoke volumes about the intricacies of life, death, and the shared experiences that bound even enemies in the vast tapestry of Fifth Hell.

"Lyon," a familiar voice called out to him.

He turned and saw Cecile approaching from the other side of the room. Worry was evident in her eyes. "Lyon, great, you're awake. Come with me."

Lyon, still processing the recent revelations and conversations, was taken aback. "I'm fine, thank you."

Cecile smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Lyon, we all know you would be fine, but there are more pressing matters. Follow me."

Sensing the urgency in Cecile's demeanor, Lyon furrowed his brows but followed her lead. They jogged through the corridors of the Eldora Empire, Lyon's curiosity growing with each step. "What's wrong, Cecile?"

"As soon as Iris told me that you've woken up, I came to get you," Cecile explained. "As to what, you will see for yourself."

The urgency in Cecile's voice and the mystery surrounding the situation left Lyon with a sense of foreboding. As they neared their destination, Lyon couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

"Over here," Cecile said, leading Lyon to a door. She softly pushed it open.

Lyon's eyes widened as he entered the room. Karina sat by Kesya's side on her bed. Lyon's gaze shifted, and there, by another bed, was his wife, Selena, sitting beside a man he was all too familiar with.

"Liu!?" Lyon exclaimed in disbelief.

The man who shared almost the same fate as Kesya was none other than Liu, the beggar he had encountered in Second Hell, his own disciple.

Cecile, sensing Lyon's confusion and shock, spoke up, "He was caught in the crossfire of your magic against Rakumtatak, but that's a good thing. He can't run anymore, at least not for now."

The room held an air of tension, a convergence of destinies that seemed almost too surreal. Lyon, grappling with the unexpected sight of his disciple lying injured, felt a surge of conflicting emotions—relief at Liu's survival and concern for his well-being.

Lyon approached Liu's bedside and observed the intricate mark on his chest. His brows furrowed as he traced the lines of the mysterious symbol. The gravity of the situation became clearer with each passing moment.

"Darling," Selena called out to Lyon, her voice carrying a mix of concern and urgency. "Liu is enslaved by Purgatory. His soul is fighting for every bit of sanity he has left. That's why he turned insane."

"Enslaved..." Lyon repeated, his tone turning colder, his fingers buried into his palms as a surge of anger and determination welled up within him. The revelation of Liu's condition added another layer of complexity to the challenges they faced. The insidious influence of Purgatory threatened not only the physical but also the very essence of those ensnared by its dark powers.

Lyon's gaze hardened as he looked down at his disciple. The determination in his eyes reflected a silent vow—the struggle against Purgatory's grip on Liu's soul would become a battle Lyon would not hesitate to wage.