The Glorious Evolution

Chapter 490: The County of House Ossa’rath.

While Levi was advertising his new business on the Black Slime Board to attract only those with serious money, the ones he had already antagonized were heavily invested in the livestream of their patronage’s collapse.

Hundreds of kilometers north of House Targon’s territory in the Eight Sky Province, beyond several Barony domains, lay a Count House whose territory dwarfed every neighboring Noble House by nearly tenfold.

At the heart of this vast nation stood an otherworldly tower shaped like a colossal candle... its towering tip crowned by a black flame that had burned without extinguishing ever since the House was founded.

The entire tower was sculpted from pure white and pitch-black wax... hardened and polished until it shone like glass, with dark droplets running down its pale exterior like frozen trails of melted wax.

The highest floor was almost entirely occupied by a vast hall called The White Hall... a hall used only for meetings that demanded the utmost attention from the entire County.

Right now, it was occupied for the first time in a while.

Five chairs crafted out of wax faced a large dimensional screen affixed to the wall. It was running the Eighth Province feed at half volume.

A few moments later, the reporters finished with the scoop and turned off the feed, leaving only noisy static on the screen.

"How compromised are we?" Count Wick’Ral asked, his voice as rough as stone scraping against a wall.

He sat perfectly upright at the head of the table... he had the appearance of a tall, unnaturally slender Nightcrawler, with pale skin and features so sharp that they made his face appear sculpted.

His pointed ears extended past the sides of his head, implying that he had signed a Sleepwalker contract with a poor soul of elven descent from a Hollow Race... a much more popular species than humans for nightcrawlers, as they existed for a very long time.

Yet, his most peculiar feature was his waxen crown... instead of a scalp and hair, he had a set of candles shaped like a crown.

Each one burned strongly with the same black flame atop the tower... at its center burned a larger, smokeless black flame, making his skull appear like an eternal candle... forever streaming melted black wax onto his royal clothes.

Even when stained, his clothes still matched his appearance, as though this was how he had always been meant to look... he dressed almost entirely in white and black, favoring long layered robes with high collars, broad shoulders, and thin golden chains crossing his chest.

"Financially?"

Grand Steward Ith’Var adjusted one of his black gloves... unlike the Count, he was thin, old, short, and his candle burned much more softly.

"Barely... our precautions worked, cutting off everything related to House Targon’s mess before it went down," he disclosed. "Unless Silas confessed to our involvement, the Supreme Court has nothing concrete against us."

No one seemed bothered by the notion of being betrayed... it was understandable, as once a Patronage signed the contract with his backer, he could never, ever betray their interests or harm them in any way or form.

Hence, Silas and his family were going to rot in prison for a long, long time, and they weren’t even able to use their information as a bargaining chip for a lesser sentence.

The Supreme Courts might be one of the most powerful organizations in the Boundless Expanse, but still... nothing was more authoritative than a Nocturnal Contract, which was created by their own master.

"Good... we must keep it that way and lay low for now." Lady Ny’Vela sneered coldly. "The Supreme Courts are looking for any reason to strip Nobles of their territories... we must not give them the chance."

The rest of the family nodded in support... they had noticed a silent, great shift slowly happening across the Boundless Expanse.

The prices of the important Map Fragments (Province, Borders, Citadel) had skyrocketed due to a great shortage... even the ones on the market were sold at ludicrous prices or traded for different ones of equal value.

That’s because the Boundless Expanse’s territories were running out, and rapidly!

Of course, the Boundless Void was always accessible to territory owners, but no one wanted to live away from the mainland.

Without map fragments, it was getting harder and harder for Rifters to gain access to the Nocturnal Ring, even if they wanted to risk their lives. After all... to join the games, one must place a map fragment in the pot as an entry ticket.

As Rifters climbed higher and higher, the entry price kept getting more expensive since map fragments scaled with the game’s rank.

"The Administration needs to free up space and put the map fragments back into the market to stabilize the prices..." Grand Steward Ith’Var shook his head. "Since it is a known fact that Nocturn refuses to create any new territories on the mainland, I have a feeling there is going to be a major reset sooner or later..."

"That’s why we need to conquer as many side territories as possible. We can never rely on the current status quo to remain... There are simply too many ambitious Noble Houses and not enough territories to contain them." Lady Ny’Vela said, her voice as stern as her brother’s... the Count.

She matched his entire appearance, except for being the feminine counterpart and the hair... she had long, flowing white hair, dripping onto the floor nonstop as though it were made entirely out of wax.

"Damn it... We had House Zen and Targon in our hands... a mere few weeks, and they were ours. If it wasn’t for that meddling prick."

Kha’Mora squeaked, her voice as cute as a three-year-old’s, not matching her words or expression in the slightest.

She was seated in an adult-sized chair, her twelve-year-old vessel making her look almost comically small... she had short hair styled into two ponytails... one was black and the other white. Yet, both had candles embedded within them with burning flames.

Her porcelain face and large, wide eyes made her resemble a doll sculpted out of wax... yet, the ancient boredom in her eyes ruined any illusion of childhood.

At 2,317 years old, she was one of the oldest in the family!

"Don’t dwell on it, Aunt Mora... neither is lost yet." Count Wick’Ral intoned composedly while glancing at the inner circle of their County. "Mr. Problem, or whoever he is, didn’t help House Zen free of charge... if he didn’t accept anything from their territory, then his payment must be House Targon’s territories and assets."

Everyone nodded in agreement, understanding that no one would help House Zen out of the goodness of their heart alone... especially when doing so meant antagonizing the County behind them.

"If House Zen didn’t receive any settlement money or assets, it means they still can’t afford to buy protective barriers from the Administration." Lady Ny’Vela shook her head. "But it’s too risky to make a move now... the Eight Sky Province is in quite an uproar, and all eyes are on House Zen."

The rest supported her claims even though it didn’t feel good to keep their distance after heavily investing millions of credits in this project... House Targon might have been the instrument and was left to believe that they would earn something from the conquest, but in reality... the County had always had its eyes on both territories; Silas simply refused to assume it.

He thought that the Nocturnal Contract was airtight... but against these cunning, ancient Nightcrawlers, who had mastered the art of contracts, there was no such thing as airtight if they were the ones putting the contract on the table.

"For now... let them enjoy these few minutes of peace."

Count Wick’Ral interjected while holding his fingers in the shape of a pyramid.

"Our priority is finding that mysterious man and reclaiming House Targon’s territories from him..." His gaze hardened. "Even if it means placing a bounty on his head within our organization."

His family members nodded in support... they knew that external help was a must to ensure they remained low-profile until the storm died down.

Count Wick’Ral faced the silent dimensional screen and thought inwardly in IIthorien, ’Password... The Candle Rook that never melts, never dims, and never falls.’

The screen flashed for a split second before a shadowy mist engulfed it whole... then, a robotic voice resounded across the room while the same words appeared on the screen.

-Identity confirmed. Welcome back to the Duskbound Order’s Network... Rook Wick’Ral.-