"I suppose that means you failed," Samuel muttered to himself as he walked alone down a long, high-ceilinged corridor within the royal palace, his voice echoing faintly off the polished marble walls. A crooked smirk tugged at the edge of his lips, his hands folded behind his back in casual amusement. "Considering I haven't heard any news of a corpse worth mentioning."

Though the hallway seemed deserted, a voice emerged from the air behind him, calm, unhurried, and edged with accusation. "We failed. Your plan was flawed."

Samuel stopped walking and slowly turned, his expression sharp as glass, gaze settling on a seemingly empty stretch of air before narrowing. "My plan was flawed?" he repeated, voice low and venomous. "And who, exactly, decided to butcher the original plan and inflate it into something grotesque? Was it me? Or was it the brilliant minds among your leaders and those delusional gods you pray to?"

A sudden pressure, sharp and deliberate, pressed against his neck, cold metal against warm skin. He could feel a drop of blood run down the curve of his throat, tracing a slow, ticklish path beneath his collar. A figure had materialized beside him, cloaked in dark blue robes that hung like smoke from his body, his hood shadowing a face that remained entirely hidden, save for the faint gleam of eyes. Crimson aura pulsed softly from him, a quiet, burning rage that saturated the air like heat from smouldering coals.

"You may be important," the man said, voice little more than a whisper, "but you would do well to weigh your words."

Samuel didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He tilted his head slightly, as if the knife at his throat were little more than an annoying gnat, and replied with quiet scorn, "Drop the theatrics. We both know you can't kill me, not for something as trivial as a sharp tongue. Say what you like, threaten me all you want, but we both understand the truth of this arrangement. I could insult your gods to their non-existent face and you'd still have to keep me alive."

He pushed the blade away with the back of his hand, the motion slow and unhurried, then stepped closer to the cloaked figure, his voice gaining a sharper edge, almost amused. "You were nothing more than an irrelevant fringe group before I showed up. You caused disturbances, yes, a few outbursts here and there, enough to earn a footnote in a security report, not harmless but mostly just an annoyance. Eterna barely considered you a real threat."

He leaned forward, and his smirk widened into something that was almost warm, almost fond, though entirely devoid of kindness. "But now? Now you're a nightmare. Now they speak your name in council rooms and send entire battalions chasing your shadows. You became a force worth fearing. And who made that happen?" He paused for effect. "Who dragged your broken little cult into the light and turned it into something they could no longer afford to ignore?"

The man in the hood remained motionless, but the red aura around him flickered once, then receded slightly.

"You needed us as much as we needed you," he replied, voice quieter, heavier. "You're not the sole architect of our rise, Samuel. This alliance, however uneasy is mutual. That is why you continue to work with us."

Samuel exhaled through his nose and turned away, the smirk still lingering, though dulled. "Then get to the point," he said as he resumed his slow walk down the corridor, bootsteps ringing against the marble. "Surely your leader didn't send you here just to moan about our 'failure.' What does he want? Another strategy? Another idea to drag you all back from the brink?"

The robed man hesitated visibly for the first time, then lowered his head and reached into his cloak. With both hands he produced a sealed letter and held it out with measured formality, his posture suddenly deferential. Samuel had already stopped again, turning with mild curiosity.

"Our leader sends word," the man said, voice now steady but subdued. "You are to be granted a title. From this day forward, you are recognized as the Sixth Cardinal of the Church of Whisper. Your name shall be, Broken Smile."

Samuel took the letter slowly, his eyes fixed on the seal, deep black wax stamped with the curved sigil of Whisper. He didn't open it. He didn't need to. A flicker of something passed through his expression, surprise, perhaps, or satisfaction, but it vanished before it could fully take shape.

He gave a low chuckle and murmured, "A dramatic name, but I suppose I've earned it."

"But, a heretic like me, made a cardinal, how curious," Samuel said lightly, his tone more amused than surprised as he balanced the letter on the tip of one finger, spinning it lazily while keeping his eyes fixed on the hooded figure. "And when did Whisper suddenly decide it was a church? I thought your lot worshipped different gods depending on the day and the blood spilled."

The man answered with a faint smile, calm and reverent, the corners of his mouth twitching with what seemed like genuine devotion. "We do revere different gods, it's true, but above them all, we recognize the one who reigns beyond them, the god of gods. Whisper is the only church he has allowed among mortals."

Samuel snorted softly, the sound somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "Only one church, for the so-called god beyond gods? Seems a little... exclusive, doesn't it?" His voice carried the edge of mockery, but the man remained impassive.

"You wouldn't ordinarily be told this," the man continued, ignoring the tone, "but as a cardinal, you are now permitted to know. He has no other church because no mortal was ever meant to worship him. He is the one the gods themselves kneel to. We were given permission, just barely, to form a single church in his name, and through it, to claim Eterna."

Samuel arched an eyebrow and gave a slow shake of his head. "So that's what all this impatience has been about? The sudden urgency in your leader's tone. A deadline handed down from some new divinity?" He tilted his head slightly, regarding the figure with mild curiosity. "What's the name of this mysterious god, then? Since you've come all this way to enlighten me."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

At this, the man dropped to his knees without hesitation, lowering his head until it touched the polished stone floor. He bowed once, then again, five times in all, before finally speaking, his voice low, unwavering, and still directed toward the ground. "He is called First Eternity. The beginning that has no end. The first and only being to frighten death itself."

Samuel blinked, then gave a short laugh. "First Eternity. That's dramatic. Very special. Has a sort of... antiquated mystique to it," he said, voice laced with casual derision. But the man didn't rise, didn't react. Instead, he slowly raised a hand and pointed to the letter Samuel still held.

"Open it," he said, "and you will meet him, as the other cardinals already have."

Samuel stared at the sealed envelope in his hand, then with a faint sigh of reluctant curiosity, he tapped the wax seal. It crumbled without resistance, scattering like dust. He unfolded the parchment inside, scanned its contents briefly, and then, with no warning whatsoever, his eyes went blank, and his body crumpled to the floor, unconscious as if he'd been struck by a hammer.

The robed man rose and approached the slumped form, face darkening with disdain. Without hesitation, he drove his foot into Samuel's gut once, then again, a series of hard, deliberate kicks. After the tenth, he spat on Samuel's cheek and wiped his boot clean on the man's coat. "Fucking heretic," he muttered, voice seething. "I don't know what our leader sees in you."

He stood there, breathing heavily, gaze fixed on Samuel's unmoving body. Then, unable to help himself, he lifted his leg again for one final strike, only to feel his ankle caught mid-motion.

Samuel's hand clutched his foot like a steel vice. His eyes were open now, clear and sharp, and his face was unreadable as he slowly rose to his feet, brushing dust off his shoulder with idle detachment.

The man paled and immediately dropped to his knees again, this time in real fear. "Forgive me, Cardinal Broken Smile. I—I didn't expect you to wake so quickly. Please... forgive me."

Samuel wiped the spittle from his cheek with the back of his hand, then examined his palm for a second before flicking it aside. He looked down at the grovelling man for a long, silent moment.

"Get me in contact with your leader," he said finally, voice cold and flat. "We need to talk."

The man nodded so quickly it was almost frantic, then dropped to one knee and began to etch a rune into the marble floor, his fingers trembling slightly, his face tightening with the strain of precision.

Samuel watched him work, arms folded, one eyebrow raised in faint curiosity. "How did you manage to keep this hallway empty?" he asked, his eyes briefly glancing around the long stretch of corridor, still and silent despite the palace's usual hum of life.

"I'm using a small artefact," the man replied without looking up, his voice tight with focus, "it interferes with the mind subtly, makes people feel uneasy, so they don't approach."

Samuel nodded slowly, more thoughtful than impressed. "And the link you're forming… once it's complete, does it require a steady flow of mana to maintain? Same for the artefact, does it have a passive draw?"

The man faltered slightly, his fingers pausing mid-symbol. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. "No… no, they don't need a continuous supply. But someone like me, someone who understands their nuances, should remain nearby. Don't you think?"

Samuel tilted his head just a fraction, his tone still casual but laced with unmistakable dismissal. "No," he said simply, "I don't see your importance at all."

The man shivered and swallowed his reply, quickly returning to the rune work. He said nothing further, but as he resumed drawing the final glyphs, his lips moved silently in prayer, whether for his safety or his soul, even he wasn't sure.

Several quiet minutes passed, the only sound the soft scrape of magic against stone. Then, with a final stroke, the rune ignited, flaring to life in a burst of white-blue light before collapsing inward, its form folding and shifting until it stabilized into a circular, glassy portal. A mirror, shimmering and alive, hovered just above the floor.

Samuel stared at it, noting how no reflection emerged, only depth. He couldn't see what lay on the other side, but he could feel the presence of a gaze: someone or something was already watching from beyond.

"You know…" Samuel began, voice mild as he raised one hand, "it's a sin to disrespect a cardinal."

The man didn't have time to react. Samuel extended a finger, and a single rune ignited, hovering for a brief moment before streaking toward the man's head. It struck his skull without force or flare, simply melting into him like ink into parchment.

The man blinked once. Then his legs buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, silent and motionless. He wasn't dead, his chest still rose and fell, but his mind had been severed from the present, left drifting somewhere deep and unreachable.

Samuel didn't spare him another glance. His attention was already on the mirror, waiting for the one on the other side to speak.

"What did you do to my messenger, Broken Smile?"

The voice that spilled from the mirror didn't echo, didn't waver, didn't rise or fall with emotion, it was simply sound, pure and precise, stripped of accent, tone, or personality. Samuel had heard voices that inspired awe, voices that repulsed, voices that clung to your mind like a scent you couldn't place, but this one felt like a void wearing sound, a voice that existed only to be heard and not remembered.

He smiled faintly. "Leader of Whisper… fellow cardinal," he said, bowing slightly toward the mirror with mock reverence, "as you heard, your messenger disrespected me, he spat on my face, no less. And so, as protocol demands, he had to be punished."

There was no immediate reply, only a prolonged silence broken eventually by a sigh so heavy it carried the weight of long-standing disappointment.

"He was always too pious," the voice said, "too emotional. Fine. Burn him. Send the ashes to me."

Samuel shook his head slowly, his smile widening. "Unfortunately, I can't oblige just yet. He isn't dead. I've locked his mind in a loop, he's trapped in a dream where he dies again and again, in ways even I haven't entirely imagined yet. A full catalogue of pain, if you will. Before I grant him release, I believe ten days of such an experience should be… corrective."

Another sigh drifted from the mirror, this one quieter, more resigned. Then the voice spoke again, less like it was asking, more like it was stating something already known.

"You've spoken to our god."

"I have," Samuel replied, his voice dipping into a tone just shy of amusement. "He was… enlightening. A conversationalist of surprising tact. Much older than I expected. And with a very particular way of viewing the world."

He paused, letting the silence stretch a little further before continuing, his voice lower now, more serious. "Your objectives, while brutal, are achievable. But if I'm to succeed, you'll have to stop adjusting my plans at the last moment. What happened today nearly collapsed the entire operation."

There was no argument, no defensiveness, only the dry acknowledgment of power yielding to competence. "Very well. What do you propose?"

Samuel's smile returned, though it twisted slightly now, the corners of his mouth curling into something strange and difficult to read. "We kill one very important person," he said, "and we take another."

A pause. The voice asked simply, "Names."

Samuel's grin stretched further, becoming something crooked and unnatural, the kind of smile that felt like it had been carved onto his face rather than formed by muscle. "We kill Grand Scholar Lazarus," he said, the name spoken like a verdict. Then, after a brief pause, "And we kidnap Jacob Skydrid. Accomplish those two… and then we can talk about the next step."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.