CHAPTER 120: CHAPTER: 120 THE CONFERENCE.[4]

So Vivian began again, and as the anticipation in the officials’ eyes grew even more.

He said, "My intuition has many abilities, and one among them is this."

He closed his eyes for a short moment and focused.

Not long after, long dark shadows started to wiggle around him.

The shadows moved slowly at first, like they were waking up, then they spread across the floor.

Seeing this, the guards raised their weapons at once.

But the commander of the royal army turned his gaze toward them, and they froze on the spot without even finishing the movement.

A few drops of sweat rolled down their faces.

When the commander looked away, the guards quickly stepped back into place, trying not to make any sound.

The shadows kept wiggling, as if they had their own life.

The floor under Vivian’s feet darkened in a strange way, darker than any normal shadow.

It felt like the ground itself was sinking into night.

Vivian spoke in a steady voice.

"Revenant."

The moment he said the words, a shape rose from the dark ground.

It came up smoothly, like it had always been there.

Its whole body was covered in shadows, and small shadow flames fluttered around its arms and shoulders.

No part of its face could be seen.

It was completely hidden under the darkness.

Even though it takes time to explain, everything happened in an instant.

One blink earlier, the floor was empty.

The next blink, the figure was standing there.

It took one slow step forward and then knelt in front of Vivian, lowering its head.

The hall stayed silent.

No one dared to speak.

No one even dared to breathe loudly.

The shadow figure waited there, silent and still, as if it would only move when Vivian gave the order.

Vivian saw the shock in everyone’s eyes.

He was just about to speak again when a loud scream tore through the hall.

"Heretic! He is a heretic!"

The shout came from the second row.

A man in the late years of his life stood up, his hair fully grey, his skin lined with age, and his priest robe shaking from his own anger.

He didn’t stop there.

As all eyes turned toward him, he pointed a trembling finger at Vivian.

"He is a heretic! A demon! He is using a demonic ability!"

His voice cracked from shouting, but he pushed on, breathing hard.

"He must be possessed by a demon! Your Majesty, I know he is a candidate for your daughter’s hand, but you must think this through, this boy is dangerous!"

Vivian looked at him with calm eyes.

There was no anger in them, only a thin touch of pity.

He knew the man well. The head priest of the Religion of Love.

Vivian had no fondness for their group.

Not even a little.

But he still felt pity now, because this priest had just shouted the word "heretic" at someone who could wipe out his whole religion before sunset if he wanted to.

Vivian let out a quiet sigh.

He could already feel what was coming.

The priest felt it too.

Sharp killing intent rose from the first row, cold, heavy, suffocating.

And three more waves of killing intent came from the highest platform, where the emperor was.

The old priest’s face turned pale white, as if the blood had drained from his body in a single breath.

The hall went silent again, but this silence was different, thicker, colder, as if even the air was warning him he had stepped into a place where he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.

Though the priest felt his scalp go numb, he did not stop.

His voice shook, but he kept shouting like someone who believed he had been given a divine message.

"I know Vivian D. Zenithara is the heir of the Zenithara house," he cried, "but this ability... this ability is related to demons! Please believe me! I swear upon the God of Love—it will only bring ruin!"

Everyone in the hall understood then why he was acting like this.

Abilities related to necromancy were considered heresy in their religion.

Their god hated anything close to death, darkness, or shadow.

That was why the old man was fighting so fiercely, and so stupidly, despite knowing his head might go rolling at any moment.

"From ancient times—" the priest tried to continue, but he never finished.

Vined stood up.

The sword was already in his hand before most people even blinked.

No one stopped him. Not a single person even tried.

His father-in-law looked furious.

Vikram von Indrath looked even more angry.

The rest of the first row was letting the killing intent spill without restraint.

Vined moved in one smooth step and placed his sword at the priest’s neck.

Its cold edge touched the old man’s skin and drew a thin red line.

Vined’s eyes had lost all warmth.

They were sharp, hard, and filled with pure killing intent.

The priest froze, his whole body shaking as cold sweat ran down his back.

But even with a sword at his throat, he did not stop.

His voice came out rough and broken.

"Sir Vined... I know he is your son," he said, breathing hard, "but if you don’t investigate this properly... then he might kill every one of your family members."

Vivian watched the scene with a tired feeling inside.

This guy really chose the wrong person to advise, he thought.

He knew his father better than anyone.

Vined D. Zenithara was a man who lived for his family.

Nothing came before them. Nothing ever would.

He could be gentle, he could be strict, he could be calm, but when it came to protecting his family, he became someone even demons would avoid.

And now this old priest, blinded by his own faith, had chosen that man to accuse.

Vivian almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

If this wasn’t an official meeting, the priest wouldn’t even have a full body left to kneel with.

Vivian sighed again as he watched the mess unfold.

The priest, completely lost in his own fear and belief, kept blabbering.

"I’m telling you... even his talent might be from demons... he might even sell your whole family to dem—"

"I’m warning you."

Vined’s voice cut through the hall like a blade.

He pressed his sword forward just a little more, and a thin line of blood ran down the priest’s neck.

The old man’s words died on his tongue.

Vined’s eyes were cold, dark, filled with a killing intent so strong the air itself felt heavy.

"If you ever... no," Vined corrected himself,

"If anyone tries to frame my child, then I swear upon my mother’s name... I will kill you."

The promise was plain.

No shouting.

No anger.

Just a simple fact.

Vivian didn’t even get the chance to sigh this time.

The priest, bless his delusional courage or curse his absolute stupidity, kept going.

The blade at his throat, the killing intent crushing the air, the glares from the front row... none of it reached whatever part of his mind was still capable of sense.

"You are inviting your doom!" he shrieked.

"By taking the side of this demon, your whole family, your whole house, the whole kingdom, no one will survive! Everyone will die by his han—"

Chik.

The sound was small.

Almost polite.

A neat little syllable for something so final.

For half a heartbeat the priest froze in place, eyes wide, mouth still open as if the rest of his sentence was waiting its turn.

Then his throat... wasn’t on his body anymore.

It lifted cleanly into the air like someone had plucked a fruit off a branch.

A spray of red followed, sharp and bright against the hall’s polished floor.

His head tried to form one last expression of outrage, but the body had already slumped, and the hall had gone completely still.

Vivian closed his eyes for a moment.

The universe occasionally delivered its lessons with savage efficiency.

This one was engraved in blood: if you keep poking a tiger, eventually the tiger stops giving warnings.

Thud.

His head and his body hit the floor together, a pair of grisly punctuation marks in the silent hall.

The officials stared, wide-eyed, as if the air itself had frozen.

No one had ever dared shed blood inside the parliament.

It was a rule carved into tradition, yet looking at the expressions of the truly powerful, it felt less like a crime and more like a long-delayed chore.

Even the princess and the empress shared a small, satisfied clap, as though someone had finally swatted an insect buzzing too long around their ears.

Vined wiped his blade with a lazy swipe and glanced down at what remained of the ranting priest.

"Blabbermouth," he muttered.

Behind him, his father-in-law stepped forward and gave his shoulder a firm pat.

He was wearing the unmistakable pride of a man who believed his choice of son-in-law had just been validated in front of the entire empire.

The emperor clicked his tongue, surveying the mess with mild annoyance.

"Who keeps inviting these fanatics?"

No one answered.

Blame is a hungry beast, and none of them wished to feed it.

Another click of the tongue.

"Clean the area."

Before the guards could move, Vivian stepped forward, calm as if he were asking for a cup of tea instead of a corpse.

"Your Majesty," he said, "if you don’t mind... may I turn him into a Revenant?"

"His cultivation was only at the fourth star, so the transformation will drop him by one."

"He won’t be overly strong, but he’ll still be useful. And it would give everyone here a clear demonstration of my intuition."

His voice carried across the hall without arrogance, just a sort of clinical curiosity, the tone of someone discussing a new tool rather than a former man.

Vivian’s casual tone worked like a spark in dry grass.

A whole hall full of hardened officials, generals, and nobles suddenly froze with their eyes stretched wide, as if they’d all misheard him in the exact same ridiculous way.

The emperor blinked once. Twice. His mouth twitched.

Then the dam broke and laughter rolled out of him, loud enough to echo off the marble pillars.

"You want to turn him into the very thing he screamed about?" he managed between breaths.

"That fanatic hated the undead more than taxes, and you’re planning to make him one? Hah! Fine. Go ahead, turn him into a death knight."

There was a strange warmth in his amusement, the kind that said he appreciated the poetic justice almost as much as the spectacle.

And suddenly the tension in the hall loosened, replaced by a low current of anticipation, as if everyone wondered just what sort of creature Vivian would raise next.