Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Replicus’ existence couldn’t double the number of guidance field functions, and thus these functions were limited.

Because of this, the Penetrator hadn’t used any <Marked Spots>. Unlike Skullius, he had a lot of subordinates to help him keep track of locations and targets, so he didn’t bother to use the guidance field for it.

That said, during a summons some time ago, Replicus had seen this grey-haired man escorting the ‘bejewelled’ Faction leader flashing with a <Marked Spot>, which meant this was the work of Skullius.

Again, because of distance, Replicus couldn’t inquire about this from his counterpart, but he had a feeling that there was a reason Skullius had marked this man.

By the looks of his dressing, demeanour and the behaviour of his mana, the man was definitely a Mage, likely a Grandmaster or higher.

If Skullius hadn’t grown in strength with the Hybrid Luman form to a degree that matched the current Replicus, then there was definitely no way he could beat an opponent like this.

‘How did you even have a run in with a Faction member, Skullius?’ Replicus wondered.

This was truly curious.

A set of rules governed the Severed Union; an accord known as the Severed Code. The rules got stricter the higher one rose within the Union, and for all Faction members, their activities on the main continents were heavily restricted and monitored.

Most intrusions on the continents normally warranted executions by the Head Faction, and as a result, unless there were reasonable causes for Faction leaders to get involved, or if a Faction leader used their name – if it had any worth – to try and earn a pardon, such a thing was unforgivable.

Replicus watched the various groups get seated. His sockets’ glow followed the grey haired Mage with interest for a little bit before his attention was dragged away by the bellow of a vicious, swirling, dark wind on one of the stone seats.

A moment later, when it cleared, a feminine individual was seated on it, with four dark humanoids that had slightly crooked shapes surrounding her.

Several other whirls of darkness, but much more limited in scale, appeared close to where every Faction was seated, and 33 human-shaped figures overlaid by darkness were revealed when they dissipated.

Replicus loathed these things.

They were the signature swarm force of the Head Faction, and its leader was the dazzling woman seated on the other side of the Coliseum, her body covered by a lone piece of silk, velvet cloth whose ends seemed to be pulled by the heavens constantly.

It suddenly became quiet, with no one speaking at all.

This didn’t change for a few minutes, until finally…

“Hey! Tell me we didn’t come all this way for a hoax. I thought it was the Immortals that summoned us! Wasn’t that what the letter said? Am I senile then?” the Mad Bishop yelled at the woman with the velvet cloth.

The woman glanced at the Bishop, and a modest smile crested her face.

“I’m in the dark too on this, I’m afraid. I received the exact same summons,” she said with a shrug “I increased the defences and surveillance around the Severed Union just in case someone was messing with us, but…”

“Just shorten it to ‘I’m just as clueless’, will you?” the Mad Bishop said with a harrumph.

The velvet clothed woman only gave a wider smile, but didn’t engage any further, and thus another stretch of silence followed.

Replicus sighed behind the helmet.

Typically, meetings such a this, with various powerhouses who had stacks of ego would erupt into berating, appraising, and the usual brash mettle sizing matches, but the Factions were different. At least this brand of them.

This was how it always was.

It was as if everyone was trying to reveal as little about themselves as possible, even their habits.

Of course, this behaviour was understandable.

Factions were allowed to declare war against each other for resources, so in a sense, they were all enemies, and they didn’t look down on each other. At least most didn’t.

A couple of minutes later, at a time that Replicus calculated to be the exact moment that half a day finally passed, there was a loud gong that caught everyone on guard, even going as far as to mess up their cognitive status for a few milliseconds.

By the time everyone recovered, there was suddenly a figure standing in the center of the field below.

Oddly, this individual… had no face below its locks of brown hair.

Its torso was bare, and below it, a pristine white cloth covered its midsection.

Everyone silently appraised the figure.

‘What is that?’ Replicus thought, a little weirded out.

Was it a man?

Was it even a living creature?

The figure took two steps forward, and spoke in a calm voice.

“I’m glad you all arrived before the designated time. You have my thanks.”

Everyone remained silent, keeping their thoughts to themselves.

The attitude of this being put them on edge.

It continued.

“I assume you’ve all been eager to know who has summoned you, and whether or not he or she truly is the Emissary of the Immortals?”

“YOU’RE DARN RIGHT!” the Mad Bishop screamed and threw a loaf of bread at the faceless entity. “WHERE’S YOUR FACE?!”

The Mad Bishop’s guards hurried to stop her from doing anything else.

The faceless entity destroyed the bread before it could reach its face, and provided an answer to the question.

“I apologise if having no face bothers you or makes you feel as though I am not taking you seriously. That is not the case. I’ve simply had to devote myself to series of harsh conditions after amassing Creeds for a purpose related to my appearance. Bear with me for the limited time I’m here.”

Soon, one of them broke the silence that had begun to pool again.

“Is that right? Well, can you confirm that you are an Emissary of these Immortals? As far as I know, they are only old myths. The only authority recognised here is that of the Head Faction,” a man with skin as pale as that of a corpse, and a bright coat around him that gave the impression that he was wearing light itself, said.

The faceless entity raised its head, and put its finger under its chin.

“That is a challenging thing to do. There is no true base to work with, as I’m sure there was thousands of tales about the Immortals. All of them are false. Aside from completely destroying the entire Severed Union and rebuilding it in the span of two seconds – which I’m sure you wouldn’t want – there isn’t a way to prove who I am,” it said.

Everyone surprisingly remained composed, keeping their thoughts on this absurd claim behind calm faces.

This creature essentially meant that beyond showing its strength, there was no way it could prove itself.

The faceless entity looked amused.

“Instead of trying to prove who is who, how about we just get to the part where I give you an assignment to catch and kill a certain fiend for a captivating reward?” it said with an eager voice.

This time, the woman in the velvet cloth was the first to speak.

“An assignment?” she asked curiously.

The faceless creature turned to her.

“Yes. An assignment. All you need, as far as transport goes, has been arranged. All you need to do, is chase one enemy across the seas, and catch kill him before he reaches Edagon.”