The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Logically, Kanelli hasn't changed much in appearance compared to the past, but for some reason, Salayin felt that Kanelli had become more charming and enchanting. Although she wasn't wearing heavy makeup, she seemed a bit more voluptuous?

And there was something quite strange: she had a fragrant scent about her. Salayin guessed it was perfume, but Kanelli rarely used such strong perfumes in the past, usually preferring lighter ones. Of course, maybe she just occasionally changed her taste.

"Salayin, darling."

Kanelli walked over with a light, crisp step, then reached out her hands. Salayin smiled and greeted her, embracing her and deeply kissing her lips.

But after only a brief touch, she retreated like lightning.

"There are people here..."

"Sorry, it's just been a long time."

Seeing the flash of annoyance on her face, Salayin awkwardly withdrew her hand. Kanelli then turned around.

"This is Salannia, the former leader of the Void Dragon Pirate Gang, now a fleet commander of the Royal Court and my friend. This is Ela Ashbel, a prophet from the Koroll Ark, who works at the Royal Court for certain reasons and is currently my assistant."

Salayin then greeted the two of them enthusiastically, but she noticed that they also seemed to be using some kind of strong-scented perfume.

Is this the fashion in the Royal Court?

But the other Bone Singers and artisans from the Royal Court didn't seem to have this situation. Salayin was a bit confused but didn't pay much attention to it.

Along the way, Salayin chatted with Kanelli about many things and asked about her work in the Privy Council. Kanelli simply replied that it was all very ordinary work.

Although she really wanted to chat alone, Salayin remembered that she still had to go to the side hall, so she could only temporarily part with Kanelli.

When the messenger brought the news to Klarath, he was still in a state of indecision, a state that had accompanied him ever since he left Ghomor.

He couldn't even explain why he had agreed.

Perhaps it was because Ilysiian and Sherillian didn't know about this and hadn't been invited, which gave his constantly attacked self-esteem a small sense of satisfaction.

Perhaps it was because his assets had shrunk again due to the continued turmoil, and he even had to reduce the quality and quantity of slaves he purchased, simply put, he had to tighten his belt, which made him feel strongly dissatisfied with the status quo.

However, after he set off, he began to regret it a little.

Was his decision too hasty?

What if Victor found out?

What if the Eternal Court had malicious intentions?

Would he seem too cheap by responding so eagerly?

But he had no choice but to not turn back.

After all, this would very likely anger the Eternal Court, and he would also be laughed at by Ilysiian—Klarath could certainly feel that the other party looked down on him.

In this tangled and complicated state of mind, he arrived at the Shadow Nexus, but out of caution, he declined Salayin's invitation, staying on his ship, which was always on standby, ready to escape at any moment.

Although he knew it was a bit ridiculous, it at least gave him some sense of security.

This time, to maintain secrecy, he brought almost no guards or attendants, except for Morl, the chief Nightmare who had served their family for generations and whom he could completely trust, as well as a concubine and five bodyguards.

It could be said that this was the easiest time for him to die, even if the Blood Reavers could revive him, but it was still a risk.

"What a prosperous place. If only I could have it, away from those bugs in Comorragh. I could even build a new Comorragh..."

Klarath approached the glass wall. Although he had seen it countless times, the sight of the Shadow Nexus was still shocking.

The claws extending from the God-Tower stretched across the metal planet below, their sharp angles and countless protruding spines disappearing into the distance. The intricate streets and alleys almost disappeared into the dimness, but the naked eye could still see a pale line segment.

Three kilometers below, the junction of the airport and the God-Tower was covered with small towers like fungal patches in the lower levels of Comorragh, competing to grow and obscuring each other.

The scene in the port was even busier: ships came and went on the docking spines, slave transport ships docked in the port area, and raiding fleets came and went like weaving. Although there were only a few cabals, it did not affect the scale of the fleet.

Looking into the distance, one could see the stable webway entrances and exits. The veil outside the barrier was usually transparent, sometimes appearing milky white, but mostly dark, with only a line of pearly threads.

When in an active state, the veil became active, like a sky ravaged by a storm, filled with azure and dark green thunderclouds mixed with flickering multi-dimensional lightning. But this was precisely a sign of safety, proving that the webway's defense mechanisms were in effect. They could effectively isolate the prying and invasion of countless malicious things in the warp. No matter how powerful a demon was, it could not break through these ancient protective forces unless they were deliberately destroyed.

When Klarath realized that a pair of war boots had entered the room, he didn't panic, because only one person could do that.

"Archon, they're urging you again, and they added an extra sentence, saying that Dorar has arrived. If you still have concerns, you can leave now."

Hearing Dorar's name, Klarath raised an eyebrow.

"How come I never realized that Alkantara was hiding so deeply?"

Then he turned around, looked at the tall Nightmare outside the door, pondered for a moment, and whispered:

"Morl, do you think I should go?"

"It's your decision."

"There may be no turning back once I go."

The tall Nightmare stared at his uneasy Archon, then let out a deep voice.

"My Archon, I have served your father and your father's father. I am loyal to your family and the current Eternal Kingdom. You are the one who will determine its future. No matter what lies ahead, as long as I have a breath left, my blade will protect you."

Perhaps Morl's words gave Klarath courage, and he nodded.

"Call my concubine, I need to prepare."

Soon, Klarath's concubine walked in. He had already taken off his outer garment. Then the concubine picked up a smooth black armor from the rack and put it on the Archon's slender, glossy torso.

With the slight sound of the armor joints, the cold metal gently wrapped him, perfectly fitting the contours of his body, then came the shoulder pads with sharp barbs, and a pair of bracers connected to hook-shaped arm guards, covering from the wrist to the elbow.

During this process, Klarath didn't forget to do some beauty care for his face, and after spending about ten minutes, he turned his head and looked directly at the mirror, revealing a satisfied smile.

At this time, Klarath was wearing a full set of battle armor, a scarlet cloak, a sword hanging from his waist, and a horned crown on his head, looking majestic and every inch conforming to the image of an Archon.

Then he turned around and looked at the chief Nightmare.

"Morl, let's go."