Chapter 94: Lawless Realms and Fallen Saints

Noctis stood in silence for a brief moment, staring down at the tiny, smiling girl who had just threatened to dismantle him with an army of unkillable shadows only seconds prior.

The abrupt transition from a murderous, cold-blooded little monster to a sweet, obedient disciple was so jarring that even an experienced assassin like him felt a strange twitch of suspicion.

He narrowed his eyes, searching her ruby-red pupils for any hidden sign of a trap. But all he found reflected in those crimson depths was an innocent, wide-eyed adoration that looked entirely genuine on the surface.

In truth, Noctis figured he held all the cards anyway.

They were standing deep within the high-tier sectors of the Middle World, surrounded by an environment where the spiritual pressure alone would suffocate anyone from the lower world who lacked proper guidance.

No matter how monstrous her talent or how bizarre her shadow domain happened to be, she was still just a child lost in a foreign, terrifying realm.

If playing the role of a benevolent teacher kept her obedient and allowed him to study her unique shadow constitution without destroying her physical form, it was a small price to pay.

"Very well," Noctis said, recovering his slick, arrogant composure as he cleared his throat and folded his hands behind his back. "Since you have displayed a rare flash of common sense, I suppose I can bestow a few fundamental lessons upon you. The art of mirroring is not something a lower-realm native can comprehend overnight, but with my guidance, you might eventually scratch the surface."

Summer kept her bright, innocent smile firmly glued to her face, though inwardly, she was rolling her dead eyes so hard they almost flipped backward.

’Look at this ugly fart puffing out his chest,’ Summer thought derisively within her spiritual sea. ’He thinks he is some kind of grand master.’

As their eyes locked on the cold obsidian platform, an unspoken understanding had settled quietly between them.

Both Summer and Noctis knew with absolute clarity that they were merely using one another for their own hidden purposes. Yet, with a silent, mutual cunning, both of them decided to conveniently avoid speaking about it aloud, each carrying forward their own distinct agendas.

While Summer intended to observe his movements and extract every scrap of knowledge she could gather regarding his soul element and his SSS+ Mirroring property, Noctis held the exact same intention toward her, eager to dissect the terrifying mysteries of her unique shadow constitution without tipping his hand too early.

"Where are we going?" Summer asked as she followed right behind Noctis, her small boots making quiet clicking sounds against the rugged stone path.

"To where people are," Noctis muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead. "The primary transit routes and access points to the lower worlds usually exist near the peripheral Wastelands. It will take us a full day of travel to reach the nearest populated city from this desolate sector."

"Oh," Summer muttered softly.

A quiet question immediately bloomed within her mind. If the access points to the lower frontiers were located near these Wastelands, would her mother end up passing through this exact area during her search?

She wondered if Salma’s trail would cross theirs soon.

Noctis could easily understand what was running through her mind, mostly because Summer was not particularly shy or sophisticated when it came to hiding her immediate thoughts and expressions.

"This is one of the designated Wastelands in the Snarckel Star Clutter," he said, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "If your mother is searching for you across the higher realms, she will have to cross millions of Star Clutters just to reach this sector."

"Star Clutters?" Summer asked innocently, tilting her head with a look of ignorance.

Noctis considered for a moment whether or not he should bother explaining the cosmic geography to her, but he ultimately decided it was harmless. There was nothing particularly secretive about basic realm structures anyway.

"For a cultivator to successfully break through beyond the Grand Master rank and touch the higher laws, they have to swallow a Star," Noctis explained, his tone carrying a faint note of pride. "Star Clutters are the massive celestial regions formed by these swallowed stars."

"Then are we going to walk around inside the belly of a cultivator?" Summer asked with an expression of pure, exaggerated disgust, a question so violently literal that it almost caused Noctis to stumble over his own steps.

"You dumb girl, I did not mean swallowed in a literal sense!" Noctis gritted his teeth, his pale face flushing with mild irritation. "It is more like forming a metaphysical bond to that star. They become the Saints of those stars, and inside the borders of their celestial domain, their personal laws and rules are absolute."

Summer furrowed her dark eyebrows in immediate resistance. "Then I do not want to go to a Star Clutter."

Noctis was genuinely surprised by her sudden stubbornness. "Why on earth not?"

"Because I do not follow the rules of other people," Summer stated firmly, her arms crossing over her chest as she glared at the horizon.

Noctis went completely silent for a moment, staring down at the tiny, unyielding zombie girl. Then, a sharp, genuine sound broke from his throat, and he started laughing.

"Haha! You dumb girl, I am actually beginning to like your stubborn spirit," Noctis chuckled, shaking his head.

"Do not worry so much. A proper Star Clutter will easily contain more than a trillion living souls. No sovereign Saint cares to micromanage whether every single stray cultivator follows his personal rules, as long as they do not openly move against the Saint’s authority. Besides, the Snarckel Star Clutter does not even currently have an active Saint to begin with."

"Huh?"

Summer was inwardly quite dissatisfied with him calling her dumb at every turn, and she was just about to snap back with a sharp retort when her brain caught up to his last sentence.

The Snarckel Star Clutter did not have a Saint?

"Why doesn’t it have a Saint?" Summer asked innocently, her curiosity momentarily overriding her irritation.

Noctis abruptly went silent as he stopped walking altogether.

Because he halted his stride so suddenly without giving any warning, Summer was entirely unprepared. Her small forehead crashed squarely into the middle of his back with a dull thud.

"Ouch," she hissed softly, stepping back and rubbing her sore, bruised nose with the back of her golden gauntlet.

Noctis turned around to look down at her, his expression suddenly shifting into something grave and solemn. "That Saint was killed."

"Killed?" Summer repeated, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly.

"When a Star Clutter loses its ruling Saint through any means, the entire region becomes abandoned, lawless, and chaotic unless another powerful Saint steps forward to claim the domain," Noctis explained in a low, warning tone.

"Then why doesn’t anyone else just claim the Snarckel Star Clutter for themselves?" Summer asked, tilting her head.

"Because no sane cultivator wants to risk messing with the person who killed the previous Saint."

Summer furrowed her brows deeper, her analytical mind racing to connect the pieces. "Then why didn’t the person who killed the Saint just claim the star clutter?"

"Because she—" Noctis suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence, his eyes widening slightly as he realized he had accidentally said too much.

Annoyed with his own slip of the tongue, he raised his hand and flicked her forehead sharply with his knuckles.

"Ow!" Summer cried out, stumbling back a step while clutching her reddened forehead.

Deep within her spiritual sea, the Shadow and the System were instantly fuming, screaming absolute murder against the daring man who dared lay a finger on their host.

Summer herself was practically dying of curiosity, desperate to know more about the mysterious person who had slaughtered a sovereign Saint.

A Saint sounded infinitely more powerful than anyone she had ever encountered, which meant the person who took his life must be a monstrous existence standing far beyond the peak of mortal imagination.

Yet, despite her glaring stares and silent demands, Noctis refused to answer any more of her questions. He stubbornly clammed up, offering no further details other than the frustratingly vague confirmation that the person who killed the Saint was a woman.

Pouting heavily, her cheeks puffed out in visible frustration, Summer trailed behind him in silence the entire rest of the way as the jagged peaks of the Wasteland finally gave way to the sprawling, smoke-choked silhouette of a border city looming on the horizon.

* *

"Little princess is gone..." Derrick said as he glanced at his young miss. Her expression... she looked the same as before. Lifeless...

His heart hurt seeing her like this. These days, after she reconciled with the little princess, Derrick had seen a warmth return to Salma that he thought had been extinguished decades ago.

The cold, unapproachable heir of the Al Mansari lineage had slowly softened, her faint smiles brought back only by the chaotic, endearing existence of her daughter.

But standing in the center of the lower-world command office, surrounded by the residual aura of a severed Soul-element spell, that light was completely gone.

Her amber eyes were fixed hollowly on the shattered fragments of Andro’s soul prism resting in her palm.

The absolute stillness radiating from her body was far more terrifying than any violent outburst of mana. It was the heavy, suffocating silence of a calamity gathering its force.

"Young Miss," Derrick spoke again, his voice trembling slightly as he lowered his head in deep guilt. "The spatial disturbance leaves no room for doubt. It was a Ghost from the Ten Thousand Ghosts gang. They used an SSS+ Mirroring technique to bypass us and trick the little princess into opening a gateway to the Middle World."

Salma did not scream. She did not throw a tantrum. Slowly, her fingers closed around the broken crystal fragments, grinding the spiritual glass into fine, glittering dust that drifted between her knuckles.

"A Ghost..." Salma whispered, her voice dangerously flat, carrying a frost so severe that the moisture in the surrounding air instantly froze into crimson ice crystals.

"If they dare to touch my daughter... I will slay each and every one of them."