CHAPTER 754: THE EMPEROR’S HELP

Vlad’s eyes immediately narrowed as he heard Alexander’s question. A cascade of thoughts raced through his mind in a flash.

"Did the Travel Agency inform the Emperor about my journey to Valhalla?" The first suspect that came to the True Depravita’s mind was the last place he visited.

But before he could dwell further on that suspicion, Alexander’s voice echoed through the throne room once more, cutting into his thoughts with an almost casual sharpness.

"The Travel Agency did not report anything to me. Unless someone travels to a disputed territory, they maintain confidentiality."

Vlad’s gaze sharpened as he glanced at the White Death, a flicker of unease in his eyes. Could this man—this overwhelming force—somehow read his thoughts? It sounded absurd on the surface, yet with Alexander’s mastery over cosmic forces and the sheer density of his presence, perhaps it wasn’t so far-fetched.

After all, the emperor’s understanding of the universal laws likely bordered on omniscience.

Pausing for a moment, Vlad took a deep breath and nodded respectfully. There was no point in hiding the truth.

"I intend to assist my partner, Freya," Vlad said clearly, his voice steady. "There are powerful figures within the higher echelons of Valhalla who are conspiring against her, forcing her into a tournament she cannot possibly win. I will not allow her to fall into their schemes."

The True Depravita of Wrath spoke without hesitation, revealing the full truth of his intent. Lying to the Emperor of Graecia would be foolish, especially to a man who could see through a galaxy of lies with a single glance.

Alexander’s piercing gaze narrowed slightly, but a small smile crept across his face as he nodded in approval.

"I appreciate your honesty, young man."

In that instant, the oppressive aura that had weighed upon Vlad since he entered the room faded, as if a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. It was clear: Alexander valued transparency and directness, and Vlad had earned a measure of his goodwill.

The emperor remained silent for a few long seconds, as if considering something deeply, before speaking again.

"You have already reached the Legendary Tier in the Demon Cage Runic Formation, haven’t you?"

Vlad blinked, slightly surprised by the sudden shift in topic. But there was no use in hiding it—his use of the Legendary Demon Cages in the final battle against the Golden Sky Fortress had been visible to all. He nodded.

"Yes. I have."

Alexander’s eyes glinted with a mixture of intrigue and calculation.

"Give me the runic diagram, and I will offer you a helping hand for your journey to Valhalla."

Vlad’s eyes widened at the offer. The Graecia Emperor didn’t explain further, but any aid from Alexander—the White Death—could transform a suicidal mission into a grand and victorious saga.

Without hesitation, Vlad nodded, conjuring a parchment from his spatial ring. He began to carefully engrave the Legendary Demon Cage Runic Formation onto it, his movements precise and focused. It took him fifteen minutes to complete the intricate diagram, after which he sent it floating toward Alexander.

The emperor studied the runes, a rare, wide smile spreading across his face as he absorbed the knowledge.

"You are quite the interesting one," Alexander mused. "To be fair, and not to strip wealth from your hands, I assure you: I will only share this formation with members of the Imperial Family or the Imperial Army. You alone will retain the commercial rights to distribute it to the rest of the factions within the Empire."

A wave of relief washed over Vlad. He had been prepared to lose the rights entirely—willing to pay any price to secure Freya’s safety—but keeping exclusive control over its distribution was a massive bonus. The potential profit from the formation’s sales within the empire could be staggering.

"I understand," Vlad replied, a respectful smile curving his lips.

"You may leave now," Alexander said, his tone dismissive but not unkind. "By the time you reach Valhalla, I will have already made my move. Your odds of success will improve."

Vlad performed a deep bow.

"Thank you, Emperor."

Though Alexander’s precise method of aiding him was still unclear, Vlad chose to trust the man. With that, he turned and exited the throne room, leaving the White Death alone once more.

The moment Vlad’s figure disappeared from view, a new figure materialized from the shadows—a tall, imposing man clad in sleek black armor. It was none other than Marshal Maximo.

The marshal’s face split into a wide, satisfied grin as he watched Vlad’s fading silhouette.

"As I told you, my Emperor," he said, his voice filled with conviction, "he’s a good young man. Capable. Driven. And most importantly—loyal. If we help him now, he will never forget it. He’ll repay his debts, even if it costs him his life."

Alexander nodded softly, his gaze distant as if already seeing the future.

"I needed to see him with my own eyes to know for certain. You were right, Maximo—his talent is overwhelming, and his will is sharp. If he returns from Valhalla alive, we will bring him into the inner circle."

Maximo’s grin widened further, and he performed a deep bow.

"I assure you, my Lord, you will not regret it."

As Vlad prepared for his journey, other threads of his plan began to unfold.

...

Within a silent castle, Freya sat in deep meditation, cultivating the energy of the Valhalla realm with all her power. Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as she sensed an unfamiliar presence approaching the entrance. Rising from her stance, she moved toward the door, her expression hardening with disdain.

With a flick of her wrist, she opened the doors—revealing a tall, imposing Viking clad in armor, standing before her with a heavy, oppressive aura. His presence radiated strength, and it was immediately clear: this man had stepped into the Legendary Realm.

The man gave a respectful nod, though his voice carried a weight of expectation.

"Lady Freya, may I enter?"

Freya’s gaze remained sharp, her expression cold and unyielding.