Catherine's arrival at the funeral was no coincidence, Petrovna had sent word the mont things turned dangerous.
With her daughter's life hanging in the balance, the Empress had rushed to the Empire of Aetherlight without hesitation. For a Sovereign-level Lore Cardian, the distance between Russia and the Empire was negligible.
The Russian Empress materialized before Lord Lioren's body, gazing at the now-dormant [Eternal Light]. Without turning to face Motian, she spoke in a asured tone. "Today we gather to honor Lord Lioren. This disruption dishonors his mory."
She deliberately avoided ntioning victory or defeat, carefully choosing her words to avoid further provocation.
Motian's lips curled into a sneer at her diplomatic attempt. "Catherine, do you truly believe you can dictate terms to ?"
"Just because you've reached the Sovereign level doesn't make you my equal."
The atmosphere grew oppressive as tension crackled through the air like static before a storm.
Foreign dignitaries shifted uneasily, surprised that even the Russian Empress's arrival couldn't temper Motian's arrogance.
Catherine, resplendent in her imperial regalia, slowly turned to face him. Her voice dropped to an icy register. "Then perhaps we should settle this question directly."
The Empress summoned her card with a gesture. A one-eyed figure appeared, gripping a legendary spear, two ravens perched on his shoulders, astride an eight-legged divine steed.
The card's distinctive appearance drew gasps of recognition from everyone present.
[Eternal King Odin], the All-Father of Norse mythology, lord of Valhalla's feast halls, supre ruler of Asgard's pantheon.
Though this God-King radiated no visible aura, every person present felt an instinctive chill crawl down their spine.
It was the subliminal threat of Gungnir, the spear that never missed its mark.
Seeing Odin manifest, Motian's expression flickered with genuine wariness. His eyes narrowed as he made a dismissive sound. "Tsk..."
"I didn't expect you to advance so quickly."
The Mughal Empire's intelligence network maintained extensive files on other nations' Sovereign-level Lore Cardians. Catherine's dossier had been marked as "Pseudo-Sovereign."
According to their information, when the Empire of Aetherlight and Tsarist Russia had recently joined forces against the Demon Army, Catherine had yet to produce a true Sovereign-level card. That intelligence was why Motian had spoken to her with such casual disdain.
Unfortunately for the Mughal Empire's spymasters, they'd missed a critical developnt. After the Demon Army's defeat, the Empire and Russia had completed their exchange of Sovereign-level materials as agreed.
This pre-war arrangent had been established between both nations. Though Tempest had initially deferred the decision to Lord Lioren, the outco had been inevitable, success was the only acceptable result.
With access to those materials, Catherine had successfully crafted her first Sovereign-level card.
The earlier conversation between Azrael and Petrovna had been about deepening this cooperation even further.
After all, the benefits of partnership were undeniable.
Back at Lord Lioren's funeral, the silence stretched on.
Finally, Motian's lips twisted into sothing that wasn't quite a smile. He looked directly at Azrael. "You win."
"Boy."
Then he vanished without another word.
As the volatile Sovereign disappeared, everyone present released collective sighs of relief, Catherine included.
If possible, she preferred to avoid actual combat.
"Thank you for your assistance, Your Majesty. The Empire of Aetherlight will rember this kindness," Lucian said, his elderly fra bent as he approached Catherine's side to express his gratitude.
The Empress shook her head slightly, her expression impassive. "This benefits Russia as much as your Empire."
She spoke nothing but truth.
Catherine had rushed to the Empire imdiately not only out of concern for Petrovna's safety, but also to diate any potential conflict between the Empire and Motian.
After all, if fighting had erupted, Tsarist Russia, sharing borders with the Empire, would inevitably suffer consequences.
As for Azrael's fate? Catherine held no particular concern for whether he lived or died. If he had perished, the Empress would rely have lanted Russia's wasted investnt.
Nothing more.
With that pragmatic thought, she glanced calmly at Azrael standing beside Lucian, her eyes flickering with reassessnt.
Truthfully, before arriving in the Empire, Catherine hadn't believed Azrael could last even a minute against Motian. Master-level was Master-level. Sovereign-level was Sovereign-level. The gap was absolute.
Even accounting for his previous achievent of successfully repelling Sovereign-level demons, that hadn't been a direct confrontation.
Furthermore, if Azrael had sohow managed to hold out for a full minute, he should have shown signs of severe damage, not standing pristine as he was now.
More tellingly, judging by Motian's subsequent behavior, the Mughal Sovereign had clearly been defeated in their exchange.
Catherine believed Russian intelligence had accurately profiled Motian's temperant.
Which ant the young Master-level Lore Cardian's strength exceeded even Russia's estimates.
Of course, without footage of the clash between Azrael and Motian, no one knew the exact circumstances. They could only speculate based on both parties' conditions afterward.
The disruption concluded, Lord Lioren's funeral could finally proceed.
"Since Your Majesty has honored us with your presence, please witness the closing ceremony," Lucian invited formally.
Catherine nodded her acceptance and moved to stand beside Petrovna.
"Mother," the young woman whispered, but Catherine raised a hand to silence her.
The Empress wasn't Motian. She still maintained basic courtesy toward soone of Lioren's stature, even in death.
The broadcast to the Empire's citizens resud.
Ordinary people across the nation watched in confusion as Azrael sealed Lord Lioren's coffin.
Most viewers had no idea what had transpired during the blackout, assuming it was rely a technical malfunction with the broadcast equipnt.
However, a few observant citizens noticed sothing different in the footage.
Given Motian's power and status, the Empire wouldn't have positioned him at the back among lesser dignitaries.
Indeed, Motian had been standing prominently at the front, directly behind only the four Empire Master-level Lore Cardians led by Azrael.
Now such a conspicuous figure had vanished from the screen entirely.
In his place stood an elegant foreign woman.
Those who recognized her felt their hearts skip. "Her Majesty, the Empress of Tsarist Russia?!"
Normally, a figure as powerful as Catherine would have been prominently featured if she'd attended Lord Lioren's funeral. But viewers who'd been watching from the beginning were certain she hadn't been there initially.
Undoubtedly, sothing significant had occurred during those few minutes of blackout.
Sothing disadvantageous to the Empire, otherwise the broadcast wouldn't have been cut.
For a mont, those who'd noticed the discrepancy felt like ants crawling over their hearts. They desperately wanted to know what had happened.
But as the crimson coffin containing Lord Lioren gradually descended into the earth, the broadcast ended.
The funeral was over.
Lord Lioren, the Master-level Lore Cardian who had dedicated everything to the Empire of Aetherlight, had reached his final rest.
But death is not the end. Oblivion is.
From this day forward, Lord Lioren would live eternally in the Empire's official records and in the hearts of its people. Perhaps, in that sense, he had achieved a kind of immortality.
Good night, Lord Lioren.
Sweet dreams.
So ti had passed since Lord Lioren's funeral.
During this period, the people of the Empire learned the official reason for the broadcast blackout.
According to the Association's announcent, it had been caused by a wiring malfunction.
Few believed this transparently perfunctory explanation.
Since most people rejected the official story, fertile ground existed for speculation and rumors.
Within various social circles, the real "inside information" began circulating.
In one private chat group:
User A, "My cousin was on the broadcast staff that day. He said the blackout happened because those Indians from the Mughal Empire caused trouble, so they had to cut the feed."
User B, "? I knew it wasn't that simple! And after the broadcast resud, those Indians were gone. I believe you."
User A, "Of course. Let share another top-secret detail. Don't spread this around."
User B, "Guaranteed. You know our group, discretion is everything. Spill it."
User A, "Master Azrael and the Mughal Empire's Sovereign-level Lore Cardian [Golden Emperor] Motian fought!"
Question marks flooded the chat, expressing collective shock.
User C, "?"
User B, "? Seriously? But I rember Master Azrael's clothes weren't even ssed up after the broadcast resud, right?"
User A, "Heh, that's the impressive part about their exchange. Supposedly there were lightning flashes and thunderous clashes as they battled across multiple dinsions. The result is obvious, Master Azrael's clothes got slightly dusty, while Motian retreated in defeat."
User B, "Motian is Sovereign-level, right? Is your information reliable?"
User A, "Okay, I admit there's so artistic embellishnt, but the confrontation is real. You can judge the specific outco yourselves. And rember, don't spread this."
User B, "Got it."
User C, "Understood."
As avatars dimd, the chat group fell silent.
That sa day, rumors about the confrontation between Azrael and Motian began spreading across the Empire's networks.
This was undoubtedly fueled by the Association itself, otherwise, how could such accurate "inside information" have leaked?
To prevent complications, the Association remained deliberately vague about the encounter's final outco, leading to widespread speculation online.
But the basic consensus erged: Azrael hadn't lost.
And that was precisely one of the Association's objectives.
Thanks to this incident, the sadness surrounding Lord Lioren's death was sowhat mitigated, replaced by intense discussion of Azrael's cards.
After all, his custom cards demonstrated absurdly powerful capabilities.
However, as the subject of all this attention, Azrael had no interest in online discourse.
Since Lord Lioren's funeral, he'd been occupied with pressing matters.
Foremost was Korea's annexation.
Though the Empire had absorbed many vassal states over the years, each annexation remained a significant undertaking.
Population, secret realms, resources, these were all benefits gained from territorial expansion.
Of course, simply enjoying benefits was unrealistic. After accepting Korea's annexation, the Empire naturally had to address the demonic threats within their new territory.
Not within their territory, within Imperial territory now.
Besides Korea, there was also that small nation Azrael had discovered while pursuing the Nine-Tailed Fox.
That situation was far more complicated than Korea's. After all, the latter had only recently fallen under demonic influence, and its people generally resisted.
As for the forr? After centuries of cultivation by demons led by the Nine-Tailed Fox, that population had completely lost any sense of human identity.
Correcting such deep indoctrination would clearly require more than a single generation.
Thinking of this, Azrael pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a nagging headache building. "Tsk..."
"What a hassle."
As he contemplated how to address that small nation's problems, a knock interrupted his thoughts.
Knock, knock, knock!
The antique wooden door swung open, revealing a blonde girl.
"Your Highness?" Azrael looked up in surprise. "Why are you here?"
The visitor was, naturally, Petrovna.
She giggled at his question. "To say goodbye, of course."
"The Empire and Russia have concluded their negotiations. I must return ho now."
Petrovna paused aningfully.
"Or..."
"Does Lord Azrael find himself reluctant to see go?"
As heir to the Russian throne, Petrovna certainly couldn't remain in the Empire indefinitely. Her extended stay this ti had only been possible due to the events at Lord Lioren's funeral.
Azrael automatically ignored the second half of her statent and asked, "The cooperation has been finalized?"
Hearing this, Petrovna puffed out her cheeks like an indignant hamster. "Lord Azrael!"
After briefly expressing her dissatisfaction, she huffed. "Given your status, Lord Azrael, you'll probably know the specific details soon enough."
As if on cue, Azrael's communication device vibrated.
The young man glanced at it and found the detailed cooperation agreent between the Empire of Aetherlight and Tsarist Russia.
But now wasn't the ti to review such docunts.
After glancing at Azrael several more tis, Petrovna turned toward the door.
When she reached the threshold, she suddenly stopped.
The girl tilted her head slightly and whispered, "I'm leaving, Lord Azrael."
"Mm."
Seeing that Azrael still showed no particular reaction, Petrovna couldn't help turning around with an exasperated expression. "Lord Azrael, please give so reaction."
Without waiting for his response, she smiled brightly. "Don't miss too much, Lord Azrael."
With those words, the blonde girl lifted her skirt, turned, and ran off.
Seeing this, Azrael's lips twitched slightly.
"It's like we'll never see each other again."
Honestly, given the distance between the Empire of Aetherlight and Tsarist Russia, it wouldn't take Azrael very long to visit Petrovna if he wanted to.
He shook his head slightly, suppressing his complicated emotions, then turned his attention to the communication device.
After his battle with Motian, Azrael realized he still had an enormous gap to close before reaching the world's pinnacle.
Now that the Empire and Russia had finalized their cooperation agreent, both sides had gained access to each other's resource libraries.
This was undoubtedly excellent news for Azrael.
It ant he could begin creating new Master-level cards.
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