The immediate consequence of the Holy Land of Ice's total defeat was the geopolitical restructuring of the Southern Continent. Vahn, the newly declared Void Emperor, had no interest in managing two separate capitals. The Frosgate Bastion, with its formidable natural defenses, deep spiritual ley lines, and strategic western location, was the ideal nucleus for his burgeoning realm.

The massive undertaking of relocating the Royal Palace and the entire political and military core of the Necrotic Dynasty took the next three days of continuous, precise effort. Vahn's Behemoth Warships were repurposed as colossal transport vessels, ferrying personnel, critical spiritual artifacts, and administrative records across the continent with breathtaking speed.

What was once the pristine, revered Holy City of Ice, shimmering in perpetual white, was systematically rebranded. Dark, obsidian flags bearing the silver sigil of the Void Dragon were raised on every flagpole. The primary fortress, the Frosgate Bastion, was renamed the Imperial Palace of Necrotis.

Finally, Vahn issued the decree: The city itself was henceforth to be known as Imperial City, Necrotis of the Void Empire.

The original inhabitants, commoners and nobility alike, watched the transformation with a mixture of paralyzing fear and profound awe. They had known centuries of rigid, austere rule under the Celestial Gods' doctrine. Now, they were governed by an overwhelming, unknown force that commanded technology and spiritual power they had never imagined.

In the sprawling lower districts, where the common folk lived, the fear was quickly tempered by the unexpected discipline of the Void Empire's soldiers and, more importantly, the end of the old regime's crushing tithes.

"Did you see the big flying ship? They say it's larger than three mountains stacked together!" said a street vendor, packing up his wares beneath a Dreadnought's looming shadow.

"And they say the Empress of Light is on the bridge, the beautiful one! She broke the spell on the spiritual farms! We pay half the grain tax now compared to the Ice Elders," whispered a seamstress to her neighbor.

"The old nobles are shaking in their boots, trying to bribe the new captains with their grand-daughters. But the Void soldiers just ignore them! They are cold, yes, but they don't steal and they don't demand forced cultivation labor. This new Emperor might be a devil, but he brings order."

"Order, and absolute power. Did you hear the way the King of Stone City surrendered? They just aimed a big black cannon at his throne room and he walked out with his hands up. Nobody fights the sky mountains."

In the gilded, but now heavily monitored, manors of the displaced Ice nobility, the atmosphere was thick with resentment and terror.

"They just renamed our holy city! Necrotis? It sounds like the creeping death! This Void Empire is nothing but barbarian tyranny dressed in high-grade steel," hissed Lord Velian, a once-powerful Grand Duke, to his fearful wife.

"But what can we do, husband? Even the Supreme Elders were defeated by the Dragon King's mother, they say, and she wasn't even trying! Seven Tribulation Masters subdued by a single woman! Is this Necrotis truly the son of a true Dragon God?" his wife questioned, wringing her hands.

"That's the most terrifying part. This isn't just a local King. That army, those ships... they look like the legends of the Cosmic Races. We must send secret emissaries to the Demonic Faction immediately. If we don't unite with the other side, the Void Emperor will consume the whole continent and turn us all into cannon fodder for his terrifying war machines."

High within the repurposed Imperial Palace, Vahn and Luminaire shared a quiet moment overlooking the sprawling, conquered city.

"You have established your foothold, Vahn," Luminaire observed, accepting a cup of refined spiritual tea from a new Void Empire servant. "In three days, you have done what would take the old Emperor dynasties three hundred years. Your logistics and your technology are unmatched."

Vahn smiled, acknowledging the compliment. "It is the inheritance of the forgotten past, Mother. The combination of the Grandmaster Craftsman's knowledge and the sheer, unfettered power of the Void allows me to shortcut millennia of conventional development."

"I must admit," Luminaire continued, a genuine curiosity in her eyes. "This type of mechanized, mass-scale warfare, leveraging technology alongside spiritual cultivation, is rare, even in the Nether Realm. The Nether Realm's focus is still heavily on individual cultivation and large-scale soul warfare. If the Void Dragon Clan had these Spirit Techs implemented into their fleet, they could undoubtedly maintain their dominance, not just against localized threats, but over the entirety of the Nether Realm."

Luminaire's gaze became mischievous. "Or perhaps," she joked, leaning closer, "does my son, the Void Emperor, wish to take over the Nether Realm next? I imagine you could build a Dreadnought that would make your father's heart pump with excitement."

Vahn shook his head, though the idea held a certain dark allure. "Not yet, Mother. The Nether Realm is filled with entities at your level, true Earth Immortals and Paragons who rule by deep spiritual and political manipulation. I haven't reached that apex of power yet. To challenge the true Paragons now would be arrogant."

He promised her, however, "But the Spirit Techs are too valuable to keep confined to Dalu. I gladly promise that I will share the schematics and technology for the Behemoth Class Warships and the Grandmaster Magic Cannons with the Necrotis Clan. It is the best way to help Father and the clan maintain their domain and ensure a swift victory over the Cult of the Destroyer."

Luminaire nodded, satisfied. "A wise decision, Vahn. You choose your battles well."

Meanwhile, deep within a specially constructed wing of the Imperial Palace, a room was sealed by powerful spiritual restriction formations—designed not to harm, but to completely isolate the prisoner from outside spiritual influence, particularly the pervasive will of the Heavenly Gods.

Inside the room, furnished only with a simple bed and a water basin for her basic needs, was Evelina Frostheart. She was dressed only in simple prison robes, stripped of her divine accessories and weapons.

Her mind was a tempest. Humiliation, fury, and a terrifying sense of emptiness warred within her.

How dare he! He defeated me like a child! He took my honor, my power, and my city!

She punched the wall, but the restriction formation absorbed the blow silently. Her anger was directed solely at Vahn, the man who had effortlessly ruined her life and her beliefs.

As the external Divine Influence was completely erased from her soul, the true Evelina, the proud, cold, and fiercely intelligent Iceberg Saintess that existed beneath the layer of zealous obedience, finally surfaced. The purity she pursued was real, but her devotion to the Gods was gone, replaced by a bitter, hateful reckoning.

She was alone, helpless, and desperately angry at the man who had done this.

Just then, the heavy, rune-etched door hissed open. The restriction formation recognized the authority of the Dynasty's core members and parted.

Evelina lifted her head, her beautiful, icy blue eyes narrowing in defiance. She expected Vahn, ready to unleash a torrent of justified rage.

Instead, two figures stepped into the lonely, cold room.

It was Seraphina, the Saintess of Light, and Lilith, the Saintess of Darkness. They wore the elegant, dark silks of the Void Empress Consorts, their auras now unbound and radiating terrifying power.

They looked at Evelina with indifferent expressions.

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