CHAPTER 479: A PLEA FOR HELP!

Chapter 479

The next day came quickly. It was finally the day Grey and Thalos would return to Aetherian academy from the Noxarian faction.

Though they were unable to gather any tangible information about how Thalos’ master had died, Grey still managed to gain something valuable from this trip.

He had successfully awakened one of his affinities, which was the main reason he had chosen to come to the Noxarian faction in the first place.

Armed with his own crafted pills, his wind magic, and a new technique he created from fusing martial arts with magic, Grey was more than ready to return to Aetherian academy.

The moment the duo woke up, Grey quickly got to work crafting a magic circle that would teleport them back to the abandoned city they had departed from.

’These magic circles are good and handy, but I wish I had a much more portable skill that won’t require me to draw signs and symbols on the ground every single time.

I mean, what if I’m in the middle of a tough battle I can’t win and I want to escape? I’m dead sure my opponent won’t give me the time to kneel down and start sketching symbols like some wandering scribe. Kek!’ Grey chuckled inwardly as he finished etching the last symbol.

He plopped a beast core into the circle, then poured his mana inside, causing it to blaze with light.

Thalos tensed the moment the circle began glowing. His mind flashed back to what had happened a few days ago when an unknown claw had burst from a portal. His shoulders stiffened, his muscles tight and ready.

But when the circle shifted into a clean, white portal without any sign of corruption, he allowed his body to relax.

"You good?" Grey asked, noticing how tense the gargoyle had been.

"Yeah. Let’s go." Thalos muttered as he stepped through the portal.

Grey followed after with a shrug, disappearing into the light.

A few seconds later, the portal snapped shut with a loud electric buzz, leaving the room empty.

The very instant it closed, the door creaked open and Dame strolled in.

"Huh? They left already?" he muttered, clicking his tongue. "Tch! I thought I would catch them just before they left." He facepalmed himself with frustration, then sighed, remembering his meeting with Alba a few days ago.

---

Walking into the bar that night, he had sat down nonchalantly across from the woman who exuded a commanding, domineering aura.

Her very presence alone spoke volumes, demanding respect. It was not simply because of her beauty, though she was striking—her long crimson hair, her flawless reddish-pigmented skin, and her sharp, piercing gaze but because she radiated authority born from countless battles.

A presence worthy of a stage 7 warrior.

That’s right. Alba was a stage 7 warrior, a stage most vice clan leaders across the world boasted of. She had attained it through years of endless combat, brutal training, and honing her skills until even her enemies called her a monster.

Now, Dame found himself before this figure, humbled yet desperate, requesting her aid.

"I need your help, Alba. No! Not just your help. I need the help of you and your entire clan. I’m about to die soon," Dame said, his voice grim and heavy with tension.

Alba arched a brow, her interest piqued. She leaned forward slightly, her lips curling in a faint smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"I’m listening. What could possibly make the youngest heir of the demonic clan sound so worked up?" she asked.

"A month from now, Beatrix of the Umbrafell faction will be leading an attack on a small clan in our faction," Dame explained.

"Yeah, I already heard of that," Alba replied dismissively, waving her hand as though brushing dust from her sleeve.

When she raised her hand, the light reflected against her smooth, battle-hardened skin, and for a moment, Dame thought she looked more like a war goddess than a woman.

"Why would something so small make you tremble to the point of running here? Other clans can surely handle it. Heck! You have two older brothers who each have the strength to level towns on their own. Together, they could reduce an entire city to rubble. So tell me, Dame, why are you so worried?"

Her eyes narrowed sharply, cutting right into him.

"I wouldn’t have been worried if my father hadn’t insisted I lead the counterattack with only three hundred men."

"Wait! What?!" a man seated at her side interjected in shock, slamming his cup against the table.

It wasn’t only him. Even the others surrounding the crimson-haired female, along with Alba herself, were tremendously shocked by Dame’s words.

"B...but according to my knowledge, Beatrix is a stage five warrior who is tremendously close to breaking into stage six. And you are still stuck at stage four, struggling desperately to make your way into stage five.

So... so why would Borfan want you to lead an attack like that, especially with only half the number of men the Umbrafell are coming with?" Alba asked in genuine disbelief, her brows furrowing.

"That’s because it’s a punishment for me. A punishment for trespassing and almost sparking a war between our clan and the Behemoth clan.

Look, let’s just forget about the details and focus on the main issue at hand. I really need your help. No, more like I need the help of the Crimson Lotus clan," Dame said, his tone heavy with desperation.

Alba sighed deeply before slumping back into her seat, her crimson hair cascading like liquid fire over her shoulders.

"I really want to help you, Dame. But you know as well as I do that the Crimson Lotus is a mercenary clan. We are neutral, and we do not like to get involved in all these skirmishes.

We were lucky enough that the Noxarian faction allowed us to set our base here. If we interfere, we risk ruining our reputation as a neutral clan. That is not a price we can easily pay."

"But my life is on the line here!" Dame snapped, his voice rising with frustration as he shot out of his seat.

"Look, Dame," a frail-looking man with pale eyes and heavy bags beneath them said as he also stood, his weak frame contrasting with the firmness in his tone. "We have worked together for a long while, and we truly consider you part of our small family. But you should know that this request... this is too much for us."

"Yeah. Especially when this is your punishment. Your father might become enraged with us for interfering in something that was clearly meant to discipline you," a female warrior added, her tone calm yet firm.

"Oh? Is the Crimson Lotus now afraid of my father? Since when?" Dame asked with a bitter chuckle, masking the nervous twitch of his lips.

"Since the day he casually walked into an Umbrafell base built on our faction’s land and eliminated two hundred stage four warriors without even breaking a sweat," another female replied coldly, her eyes narrowing.

"Tch!" Dame scoffed in anger, his fists clenched tightly as he realized he was quickly running out of ways to gain their help.

"Look, Dame," Alba finally said, her voice softer but still firm. "We want to help. Which is why I will make you an offer. If you can bring us something worth our time, something so rare and valuable that we have neither seen nor heard of it before, then we might... just might... consider lending you our strength."

Dame froze, raising an eyebrow in surprise at her words. The spark of an idea lit within his mind.

__

Thinking back to that meeting now, Dame’s lips curved into a grin. Slowly, he pulled out the pouch Grey had given him, loosened the knot, and opened it. From within, he carefully retrieved one of the small purple pills, holding it up to the light with a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Something you haven’t seen or heard of before, huh? Well, you are in luck, Alba. Because the Supreme Magus’ gift is the perfect answer to your demand." His grin widened as he placed the pill back in the pouch, his heart swelling with confidence.

"Thank you so much, Supreme Magus. I wish you safe travels back to your home," Dame whispered to himself, smiling with satisfaction as he fully exited the room.