CHAPTER 1352: OLD AND NEW FAMILY

...Elder Zod was not alone. A nurse walked beside him, hands steady on the handles of the wheelchair that bore him forward. The chair itself was a marvel—smooth silver curves laced with glowing runes, tubes and crystal orbs pulsing with a faint golden light.

Every hum and flicker spoke of enchantments designed not merely for comfort but for keeping him alive.

He had become really old. Then again, this much was normal for people that could not attain a certain level of cultivation.

Perseus’s gaze softened. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and bowed his head in respect.

The old man lifted one trembling but steady hand to rest on Perseus’s shoulder. His voice, though aged, carried warmth.

"It’s good to see you. A hundred years looks good on you."

Perseus smiled faintly. "And also you."

Zod chuckled—a dry, airy sound touched with humor. "No need for politeness, boy. We both know it’s a lie." His eyes glimmered, but then the mirth dimmed into something softer, sadder. "Elder Isiah would have loved to see this day... but ten years ago, he passed on." He let the words linger before his expression gentled into gratitude. "To have lived long enough to see this moment... that alone is a blessing. More than enough for me to go peacefully when my time comes."

Perseus’s chest tightened at the sentiment, but Zod’s next words broke through the moment.

"What about Victor?" the old man asked, his tone measured. "Our Alpha?"

Perseus’s eyes shifted, scanning the crowd as though searching for someone he already knew was not there. The muscles in his jaw tightened, his expression clouding.

"We had... an unfortunate run with Lucifer Morningstar."

Around them, a ripple of tension passed. Faces darkened, brows furrowed—every soul present understood the weight of that name. But Zod only nodded slowly, his expression calm and knowing.

"I understand," he said at last. "You needn’t say more. But..." His gaze sharpened. "...do not seal your heart to Victor."

Then the old man leaned forward, his lips coming close to Perseus’s ear. He whispered a few words—so soft only Perseus could hear them. Whatever he said made Perseus’s eyes widen in surprise, his breath catching for just a heartbeat.

Zod leaned back with a faint smile, the brief flicker of mischief or wisdom—perhaps both—passing across his aged face. Then he gave a slow nod to the nurse.

"It’s time for my afternoon nap," he murmured.

The nurse obeyed, wheeling him gently away, the faint hum of the magical apparatus fading into the ambient sounds of the gathering.

Perseus’s gaze swept across the crowd again. He picked out familiar faces, worn now with the marks of age and experience. Some bore streaks of white in their hair, others the stiffness of joints that no magic could entirely cure because of age. But one face was conspicuously absent.

He turned toward Father Black. "What about Nikky?"

The old man’s expression shifted, and a heavy sigh escaped him. Nikky was not his daughter by blood, yet after her father’s death, their bond had grown into something close to family. Without another word, Father Black motioned for Perseus to follow. He traced a casual gesture in the air, and a shimmering portal bloomed open, rippling with muted light.

Stepping through, Perseus was met with a room unlike any he had seen before—a seamless fusion of arcane artistry, crystalline technology, and divine sigils etched deep into stone. Humming conduits pulsed faintly, feeding power into the centerpiece of the chamber.

There, in the heart of it all, stood Nikky.

Or rather, the woman she had been—encased in flawless, glacial ice, suspended in a stillness so complete it might have been the pause between two heartbeats. Her features were exactly as he remembered, unmarked by age, her expression calm as if she merely slept.

Father Black stepped forward, his voice quiet. "After the sealing of Earth, she knew her lifespan was running short. After all, we were no longer survivingon the witch’s curse. Nikky could never cultivate enough to extend it. Her love and pursuit if science was a greater calling... so she chose another way. This was it."

Perseus frowned. "Why would she—"

The old man gave a dry, knowing chuckle. "You know women. They’ll do anything when in love."

Perseus’s shoulders sagged, the truth settling over him like a weight. His eyes lingered on her frozen face as he muttered, almost to himself, "Lenny."

Back then, everyone knew of Nikky’s feelings for him. Feelings that, for all her devotion, Lenny had never returned.

Father Black’s gaze lingered on Nikky for a moment longer before he turned to Perseus. "On that note... what about Lenny?"

Perseus exhaled, the weight in his chest deepening. "That... is a long story," he said at last, his voice carrying both weariness and something unspoken. "One I’d rather not tell."

Closing his eyes, Perseus placed a hand over the family insignia on his chest. The emblem warmed beneath his palm, threads of light tracing along its surface as if stirred awake. A bridge opened—not of words, but of memories. Images, sensations, and moments passed from his mind into Father Black’s, an ancient method of communion reserved for those bound by the same oath under the same king.

The old man stiffened as the flood of memory reached him. His eyes widened slightly, a rare break in composure. "So... he’s alive?"

Perseus gave a slow nod. "Last I heard, yes. But I do not know where he is now."

He chuckled a bit, happiness in his eyes. The last time they got anything from Lenny was when he blew himself up so that luvifwr would not finish absorbing him.

Even Father Black did not have much hope, but he still kept strong.

But before Father Black could speak further, a sharp, urgent beeping cut through the chamber. Both men’s eyes turned to the sleek, rune-lined device strapped to the old man’s wrist. Its pulse was rapid, insistent.

Father Black’s brow furrowed. "We have an emergency," he said gravely. "There is an armada heading for the planet."