Outworld Liberators-Chapter 157: A Suspicion of Corruption Within the Righteous

Chapter 157: A Suspicion of Corruption Within the Righteous

Radeon had written the invitation with a deliberate time stamped into it, the highest noon.

The reason was simple. He wanted the Summit Emperors and the thirty nine remaining City Lords to see the terraces already breathing, already chewing through coin and bodies and intent.

A grand unveiling was easy to dismiss as theater. A working machine was harder to sneer at. It also looked inclusive.

No one could say Radeon Terraces had opened its doors only for the desperate and the greedy.

He even loosened the leash in a way that looked generous. Each Summit Emperor could invite twenty five people besides themselves.

Each City Lord could bring ten. Each township leader could bring five. Enough to swell the crowd with witnesses.

As the sun climbed and the heat began to prickle skin, the mortal town owners started making their way up the routes, breath heavy, hands clutching sleeves as if they could keep dignity from spilling out.

Their destination was the arena. From other peaks, cultivators arrived by air in luxurious sky carriages, drifting in like they owned the clouds. One carriage blazed with controlled flame, its edges glowing as if it had been forged moments ago.

Another floated on a sea of cloud, slow and grand, trailing mist like a robe. One party rode a long carpet, its large hard fabric rippling through the air while the entourage flew alongside in neat formation.

They wore clothes meant for banquets and special occasions, silk that caught light, jewelry that made quiet chimes when they moved.

They looked less like warriors and more like a traveling court.

Radeon watched them and felt an old memory stir. It reminded him of the crowds that had gathered to watch his tribulation, the one he failed so grandly back in the Neumann Universe.

He sighed, shook his head, then let out a short chuckle.

It was a big deal. He understood that. He also could not pretend he had all the answers. He still did not know where the enemy had come from.

He was not even chasing vengeance. He could sympathize with the blight that had destroyed his life, because he knew what it felt like to be prey under a predator’s shadow.

On the ground, Eldric stood at the front with a benevolent, carefree smile. From a distance he could have passed for a grandfather greeting family.

His black robe carried a faint illusion of smoke swirling along the fabric, a small spectacle meant to impress without shouting.

Beside him stood Calyx, calm and unmoved. The wraith wore black robes threaded with gold patterns.

If one looked closely, the patterns resembled a flowing painting of disfigured figures, all hunger and crooked limbs.

Only Calyx and Radeon knew how close those shapes were to the truth of the ghost realm.

To everyone else it was simply luxurious, loud in style, youthful in its arrogance.

The first to arrive were not the Summit Emperors. Not the City Lords either.

It was the Silent Severance.

They came without fanfare, without bright colors, without a parade of servants.

Their quiet made people notice them more. Twenty five of them walked in as one body.

Eldric stepped forward as if nothing about them was alarming.

"Ah. Heroes. You have come from afar. Thank you for attending."

Jekyll, who led them, offered the invitation with a measured expression.

"Thank you for inviting us."

Jekyll had a gift sent in by the higher-ups from the headquarters. Not even he knew what it was. When Radeon saw it from afar, his heart stirred and his face hardened. Eldric, however, still wore his benevolent smile.

"We shall do our utmost to showcase such a gift in the future."

Then a group of ghost attendants escorted the group inside. These were not people who attended events like this. They preferred shadows and outcomes.

Still, Eldric had covered for them. Eldric had helped save the masses, and that aligned with the organization’s public vision. They would give him this much.

Radeon knew Jekyll wasn’t aware of what he carried to his peak and he was not at fault about it.

Jekyll’s gaze moved as they entered. He knew it was the arena, and yet it felt both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

The structure was there, the wide floor, the rising seats. But the air felt curated. The angles felt planned.

There were only about twenty ten thousand seats, enough to look grand without losing control of the crowd.

The Silent Severance were guided into a glass box booth. Inside, everything had already been arranged.

Refreshments. Pastries. Small snacks that looked too delicate to matter.

Cultivators did not need food after reaching gilded core. Jekyll knew Eldric was no fool. Which meant the food was not food.

He picked up a macaron and bit into it.

Cream and strawberry filling burst across his tongue, rich and clean. It tasted absurdly good.

Then the second sensation arrived, quiet and precise. Something inside him eased.

Hidden fatigue loosened. Old injuries that had been ignored for too long softened at the edges, like knots finally yielding to warm hands.

It was not like swallowing a panacea. Not a violent rush. Not a sudden flood of power.

It was subtler than that. It felt like being reminded what it was like to breathe without pain.

Jekyll chewed slowly, eyes narrowing. A pastry that healed, even a little, was not hospitality. It was a statement. A show of capabilities.

Contractcrown of Plunder Alp Emperor Tiberius arrived with an entourage loud enough to announce itself before it crossed the last span of stone.

He moved like a man used to taking space, broad shouldered, easy grin, eyes sharp with the habit of appraising everything as either asset or obstacle.

He looked the terraces over and let out a low whistle.

"Old man, you have something good going on here, eh."

Eldric’s smile did not change. It sat on his face like it belonged there.

Tiberius jerked a thumb back at a young cultivator hovering behind his shoulder.

"My kid over here wants to spar with your men if possible."

"Not impossible," Eldric said. "However you may want to stay around. I have better training than sparring."

"I will look forward to it," Tiberius said, and whistled again.

His people moved at the sound. Cursed weapons were brought in, laid out with care that did not match their reputation.

Swords, spears, halberds, all of them humming faintly, as if the metal remembered screaming.

The kind of gifts meant to impress and to test. If the receiver flinched, they learned something.

If the receiver accepted, they learned something else.

"I know you can use these better than anyone else," Tiberius said.

Eldric inspected the spread without hurry. He did not touch with bare hands.

A ghost attendant stepped forward at a glance, thin fingers hovering near the hilts in case they tried to bite.

Tiberius noticed that even the attendants handled the curses and evil within the weapons with ease, and his posture relaxed.

These were authentic members of the Ossuary Court.

Eldric nodded once.

"Generously given. Many thanks."

He motioned, and the ghost attendants carried the weapons away as if they were merely bundles of cloth.

"Attendants, escort these gentlemen to their seating." He then looked at Tiberius. "Please enjoy yourselves, as the presentation will start in a few hours."