CHAPTER 695: THE DEAL PART-3 (NEED EDIT)

Azzy rolled his shoulders, eyes gleaming faintly gold. "Then let’s not waste time." Cracking his knuckles, he unleashed one of the soul skills, "Rise of the Undead."

At once, a pulse of black light erupted from his feet before ten forms burst from the darkness, and twenty undead beasts emerged. While they were only normal beasts and didn’t possess any skills, each of them was still of Rank-9, the same as their targets.

Azzy didn’t move. Not a single step.

He merely raised a finger and spoke. "Go."

The undead surged forward at his order.

"Guys, kill them..." Evelyn roared, charging forward alongside her Arcana Spirit. The others also followed suit.

Twelve minutes later;

Three of them—Fiona, Malgrim, and Emiya—lay or knelt on the ground, panting hard, their clothes torn and aura flickering weakly. The sweat on their foreheads shimmered under the glow of the barrier dome.

Only Avia and Evelyn were still standing, their focus locked on the final undead— a feline Rank-9 beast, massive and sleek, with its hollow eyes burning with blue fire.

It growled, letting out a sound that rattled through the air.

The sabertooth lunged at them both, its claws tearing up the floor as it missed them. Avia dashed to the left; Evelyn to the right, evading its attack.

"Now!" Evelyn shouted. "Soul skill: Rapid Punch Knockout."

Her Steel Kangaroo leapt forward. Its iron fists flashed like bullets. One, two, ten... twenty-three punches landed in rapid succession, each one ringing like a hammer strike, not giving any time for the beast to evade or counterattack.

The final blow sent the beast skidding across the arena with many of its bones destroyed.

Evelyn didn’t wait for its resurrection. She surged forward, leaping high, covering her body with the layer of soul energy. Every shred of power she had left poured into her right leg.

She came down like a meteor—

CRACK!

Her heel smashed into the beast’s skull, splitting it open with a flash of light. The sabertooth howled once—then staggered.

"Finish it!" she called out.

Avia’s blades then glowed emerald. She spun into a blur as she unleashed her strongest soul skill: Hundred-Cut Slash!

In a storm of flashing arcs, she carved through the beast, shredding it into nothing but dust and fragments of fading energy.

As the echo of the final impact faded into stillness, Avia exhaled, lowering her daggers. Meanwhile, Evelyn steadied herself, one hand pressed against her knee. Their eyes met—and both smiled tiredly.

*Tap*

They raised their hands and slapped a triumphant high five in satisfaction.

At the far end, Azzy nodded once in approval. "Okay," he said at last, voice even. "That’s it for today."

He turned, dismissing them with a wave.

The undead mist dissolved, vanishing like smoke in sunlight and returning to his mindscape.

One by one, the representatives began to leave the field—tired, battered, but proud.

However, right then, Azzy called out, "Aunt Evelyn..."

This made them pause their steps and turn around in surprise, as Azzy is the clan lord after all and is qualified to even address his parents directly with their names. Evelyn looked at him, raising her eyebrow, "Yes?"

Azzy replied. "Wait for me..."

"Hmm?" Evelyn tilted her head.

After a while;

The corridor shimmered faintly with blue light crystals embedded along the walls, casting a soft glow through the Starlight Clan compound. The scent of blooming moon orchids drifted through the air as Azzy and Evelyn walked side by side, nodding to the clan members they passed.

They reached the main residence—a modest yet elegant home made of pale stone and silverwood. Inside, laughter echoed faintly.

In the center of the living room sat Kylan Crescent, Azzy’s granduncle, his white hair tied neatly and his sharp eyes softened by amusement as he played on the floor with a small child—a baby boy no more than three months old, crawling with astonishing speed after a silver ball that glowed faintly every time it rolled.

"Granduncle," Azzy greeted with a slight bow.

Kylan looked up, his face lighting up. "Ah, Azzy, Eve... You’re just in time. This little troublemaker is trying to break the crawling speed record."

Evelyn furrowed her brows as she stepped forward. "Father..."

The old clan patriarch understood the meaning behind her displeased expression and said, "C’mon, Azzy addressed me with relation, and not the name. Meaning he is here as my grandnephew... What’s wrong with calling him that way..."

"But he is still the clan lord. You should not use such short names..." Evelyn criticized her father a bit, but Azzy waved his hand. "Aunt Evelyn, I don’t mind it. In fact, I prefer to be called this way. And it is not like this is the first time anyway..."

Evelyn blinked in surprise, "Then, how come you never told me that... I..."

This time, her words were interrupted by the cooing of a baby, who paused mid-chase, turned his head, and, upon seeing Azzy and Evelyn, his eyes lit up. He squealed in delight and began crawling straight toward them.

"Oh, my baby... you missed your..." Evelyn opened her arms entirely to pick up her son, but she froze as he entirely bypassed her and crawled toward Azzy. "Eh?"

Azzy blinked in surprise before kneeling down and scooping the baby into his arms. The child giggled, tiny fingers clutching Azzy’s collar.

Evelyn crossed her arms, mock irritation in her tone. "Honestly. If someone saw this, they’d think he’s your son, not mine."

Azzy chuckled softly, bouncing the baby slightly. "What can I say? My little cousin and I are bonded by death energy."

The baby cooed as if understanding him, a spark of faint black light flashing briefly in his bright eyes.

"See?" Azzy said with a grin. "He agrees."

Kylan laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You two and your strange energy affinities..."

Azzy looked back at Evelyn, still cradling the child. "Seriously, Aunt, you really have no idea his father was a descendant of our clan?"

Evelyn sighed, rubbing her temples. "I told you already." Her tone held a tired edge, the kind that hinted at long-avoided conversations. "It was a moment of weakness and it just happened during the ovulation period. I don’t even remember his face anymore."

Her gaze softened as she looked at the baby—now giggling in Azzy’s arms, trying to grab a strand of his hair. "Regardless of his bloodline, it doesn’t matter. Whether he has death energy or not... he’s still mine."

Azzy exhaled, the ghost of a sigh slipping through his lips. "Right..."

He looked down at the little boy, who was smiling up at him with bright eyes.

****

The evening air was cool when Azzy returned to his residence. The corridors of the Death Clan’s central citadel were calm—too calm, almost deceptive in their stillness. As he crossed through the main hall, a guard hurried to him and knelt.

"Your Majesty, one of the scouts requests an immediate audience. He claims to have urgent information."

Azzy gave a slight nod. "Bring him to my study."

Moments later, the faint crackle of soul lamps lit up the vast study chamber. Scrolls and documents were neatly stacked across the long ebony table—reports on finances, training schedules, and the latest mission evaluations. A faint scent of old parchment and ink lingered in the air.

The door opened. A young scout stepped inside, his dark uniform dusted from travel, boots still damp with dirt. He dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty."

Azzy looked up from a document he was signing. "What is it?" His tone was calm, but the subtle shift in his aura made the room feel colder.

"News from the surface, sire," the scout said quickly.

Azzy leaned back slightly in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Go on."

The scout swallowed, glancing once at the flickering shadow behind Azzy before speaking. "It’s... about the reemergence of the Werewolf Lord."

Azzy’s eyes lifted sharply, the crimson in his pupils glinting faintly. "The Werewolf Lord?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the scout continued. "Word has spread that WAMO—the World Adventurers and Mercenary Organization—is assembling elite experts from various guilds across the continent. Their goal is to form a strike team to hunt down the werewolves and recover a certain artifact."

Azzy’s brows furrowed slightly. "Artifact?"

The scout nodded. "They called it the Cursed Music Box of Semele."

For a brief moment, Azzy said nothing. The only sound was the faint ticking of the chronometer on his desk.

He finally leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished black surface. "Cursed Music Box of Semele..." he murmured under his breath, as though turning the name over in his mind. "Never heard of it."

The scout hesitated. "The guild leaders believe it to be of divine origin, perhaps linked to the gods of old. The legends say it carries the power to twist fate itself... bringing ruin wherever it plays."

Azzy’s expression didn’t change, but his silence spoke volumes.

At last, he said quietly, "Understood. Leave the full report on my desk."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The scout bowed deeply and withdrew.

When the door shut, the room was silent again. Azzy sat still for a long moment, eyes on the parchment the scout had left.