Extra: Yandere Milfs Obsessed with me!-Chapter 235: Morgane La Fay

"Ah, really? Do you despise the Emperor?" Frederick asked.

A silence fell, until Mirabel pulled out a copy of the Prophecies of Nostradamus. She placed it on the table with a firm gesture:

"Honestly, you should read this. You greatly underestimate them."

Aiden barely lifted his eyes, detached, arms crossed:

"Pff... What’s the importance?"

Helia took the grimoire and opened it carefully. Her fingers passed over the ancient, yellowed pages. She read the first sentence aloud:

"Under the Stars, all existences are equal... Therefore, angels and demons are not so different..."

Aiden’s eyes widened, and he straightened up, much more interested.

"What the hell is this shit!?"

Mirabel raised an eyebrow, her body straight and tense:

"You think it’s a joke? This text contains quite... unprecedented statements, if I may say so..."

Frederick Draken blew out cigar smoke and nodded, the only obvious ally of the Emperor in this assembly. Helia remained focused on the grimoire, while Mirabel sketched a discreet smile, satisfied to see that some were finally beginning to understand the stakes.

"Let me see this bunch of nonsense!"

Helia only saw a flash of light before the grimoire was already in Aiden’s hands.

The meeting continued, with ever-growing tension between the Dantalions and Pendragons... but there was one certainty: The Predator of Black Neon and even this Saintess could no longer be ignored.

***

In Sky City, the Holy Cathedral dominated the sky. Its slender towers and colorful stained-glass windows captured the sunlight, casting rainbow glints on the streets below.

The interior, sumptuously decorated, overflowed with gold, precious marbles, and hand-embroidered tapestries, each depicting a miracle or a significant event in sacred history.

Massive columns supported vaults adorned with celestial frescoes, giving the impression of walking beneath a divine sky. Faithful and clerics hurried through the corridors, their murmurs echoing in a continuous flow of devotion and prayer addressed to the angels.

In the most sacred place, known as the Holy Place, a translucent veil was stretched, preventing anyone from directly seeing the angelic face of His Holiness.

The atmosphere there was cold due to the unusual concentration of Arcane mana...

Julius Dantalion, in Paladin attire, knelt on the ground, respectfully observing the veil. His heterochromatic eyes, one golden and the other silver, shone with devotion toward the woman behind the veil.

"Your Holiness, what do you think of these events?" he asked.

The soft voice of The Holiness Siel resonated from behind the veil:

"I think this Nostradamus is... dangerous."

Julius slightly tilted his head, frowning. "And what about the one called the Blade of Nostradamus? Should I launch a crusade for heresy against him?"

A light silence followed as she thought...

"No need, my child." Her voice was calm.

"I would simply like to meet this famous woman who calls herself Saintess... An official visit. Her ability... it is singular and... disturbing at the same time."

Julius lowered his eyes, taking a moment to digest these words. "I understand, Your Holiness... She could be beneficial if she served our noble cause."

With a delicate gesture, she lowered her gaze to the floor where Julius had bowed at 180°.

"You may go, my child... The Seraphs have heard your prayer..."

***

In Babylon... the industrial kingdom par excellence, three colossal towers dominated the horizon.

The Tower of the Forge, The Tower of the Alchemists; and finally the Tower of Sorcery, the tallest, the darkest... It was there, at the top of the latter, that the most dangerous Sorceress in the world resided...

Morgane La Fay was not only one of the most powerful sorceresses but also the greatest dark elf blacksmith of her era; she had forged cyborgs whose artificial heart pumped infinite mana, a feat no one could even imagine before her.

She was one of the three favorite disciples of the Mystic Sorcerer... the one whose name had been forgotten, who made even angels and demons tremble during the Millennial War.

She had become one of the three most influential Witches of the Tower of Sorcery with her affinity for shadows.

Her violet eyes, cold as amethyst, swept the corridors of black marble veined with orichalcum as she advanced, hands clasped behind her back.

The fabric of her shadow silk dress, woven with obsidian threads, clung to her skin. With each step, the dark veil undulated over her wide hips, emphasizing the exaggerated curve of her lower back.

The side slit, rising to the birth of her waist, intermittently revealed the full, glossy curve of an ebony thigh, taut just enough to evoke both power and raw sensuality.

She passed a group of apprentices who bowed hastily.

"Master..."

She did not even turn her head. But the mere fact that she slowed imperceptibly made several of them lift their gazes along her body.

An older-looking servant bowed even lower.

"Master Morgane..."

She finally stopped, slowly pivoting on a stiletto heel forged from an unknown black metal.

"Get out of the way!"

This movement sent her long deep violet-black hair cascading down her bare back. The back of the dress was almost nonexistent: a wide plunging neckline down to the lumbar dimples, held only by thin gold chains that ran along her spine.

The runic tattoos that adorned her skin, spirals of shadow and black flames seemed to come alive under the glow of magical torches, crawling over her shoulder blades, descending to the insolent birth of her round, full buttocks.

Each step made that perfect swell roll under the taut silk; the fabric clung so closely to their shape that one could guess the perfect lines where thigh and ass met, and even lower, the discreet glint of an intimate piercing catching the ambient violet light.

She resumed her walk, hands still behind her back, which further arched her chest.

A few minutes earlier, she had read the Prophecies of this Mysterious Nostradamus... Which had quite shaken and annoyed her...

"Master... aren’t you actually dead? Or is this another scheme of that bitch Elizabeth?"

Then she disappeared around the corner of the corridor, her hips swaying with that deadly nonchalance that made the hardest souls in the Tower tremble.

Many powerful figures in the mortal world were interested in this book, even Pandora, leader of The Spectrum...

And even the Witch of Curses: Walpurga...