"I was told that you have the remains of my brother with you," Vulmir said at last, his expression expectant, almost eager.

Venedikt was startled by the revelation, though he quickly regained his composure. Without hesitation, he stretched his right hand forward, summoning the golden skeleton from his space ring.

The air between them shimmered, turning hazy, then cleared a heartbeat later. What remained was a skeleton of pure gold, its form held together not by flesh or sinew, but by an invisible force, and from its bones radiated a gentle brilliance, warm and steady, like the rays of dawn.

Vulmir visibly exhaled. His golden eyes brightened, tears of molten gold spilling freely as he leaned forward, hands trembling, and took hold of the skull. He pressed his forehead against it, silent and unmoving for several breaths.

When at last he drew back, Vulmir carefully laid the skeleton down. His tears evaporated into faint golden mist as he adjusted its arms, folding them across its chest with reverence.

Then, raising one hand, he conjured a cocoon of golden radiance around the remains. The space rippled like unfurling smoke, and a moment later, the skeleton was gone.

Vulmir straightened, the traces of gold from his face vanishing into golden radiance. A gentle smile graced his face as he placed his hands upon his knees and bowed half-low toward Venedikt.

"Venedikt, you have my eternal gratitude. You have given me closure and peace for my brother's soul."

Venedikt's mind raced. 'I never expected the golden skeleton to be of such value.' He realized instantly he had struck fortune beyond measure, yet a fortune that came with new questions.

His original aim had been simple. He planned to learn which Imperial sect had kidnapped Oryne and which force had framed Korath, thinking it was likely the same entity.

After learning the truth, he planned to rescue his disciples one way or another, but now he might not need to do any of that. Vulmir himself might be the key.

Still, a question pressed heavily at the back of Venedikt's mind. 'How much can I trust him?'

Previously, Venedikt had planned to make a deal with a high-echelon member of the Umbryssan clan to get the intel he needed, fully aware that in the process, they would inevitably learn of the Amorphous Sect and its legacy.

From there, he had foreseen only three possible outcomes.

Either they would dismiss the sect's legacy as beneath their notice, after all, they already belonged to a great clan, and acting rashly could risk their reputation and draw the ire of their clan master.

Or, they would try to befriend him, offering their friendship with an excuse that Venedikt would leave in a few years, so for the sect to survive, it needed some great power's backing.

This option was most favourable to both parties as they would gain protection while the Umbryssan clan would gain a power that could grow their influence to the Cultivator's domain.

Third and Last, they would attempt to confirm whether the legacy was real and take it without caring for the consequences.

But before they could act on any of the last two options, they would require time, and by the time they reached a decision, Venedikt would have already rescued his disciples, hidden them within the monastery, and disappeared like a ghost.

But such reasoning did not apply to a man like Vulmir. A hegemon could strip away his gift as easily as candy from a child.

Seeing Venedikt lapse into thought, Vulmir's gaze softened, and he began to speak. His tone was calm at first, but carried the weight of memory.

"The City of Sun," his golden eyes dimmed for a moment, "It was our home, before it turned to dust in the Pale Reckoning, events that took place a millennium ago."

Venedikt was pulled back to his senses, his focus narrowing on every word.

"My brother Valdor and I... we were there when Crouzius the Renewer came for us, one of the Pale King's generals. We held the walls for fourteen days, but in the end, the city was overrun."

"Our people slaughtered, only to rise again as part of the enemy's ranks." His voice grew heavier, his jaw tight. "There was no escape. No one survived that day. Not even me. Not at first."

He paused, his hands curling faintly on his knees. "I became one of them, an undead puppet, my soul corrupted, my body decaying piece by piece."

"But heaven has not abandoned me, as years later, by some stroke of luck, in one battle, I was taken by my master and freed. He healed me, and over the months, I made a full recovery."

A faint flicker of grief crossed his face. "But my brother was not so lucky. By the time I had the strength to exact revenge on Crouzius, he was dead, his horde scattered, leaving no clue of my brother."

His shoulders sank as though a weight had returned. "I told myself he had died long ago, either erased in some forgotten battle or twisted past recognition. I only wanted him to rest in peace."

Then Vulmir's eyes blazed, and the air shifted, burning red and black with his anger. "So think of my shock when I searched for his remains and discovered that my brother had been bound into the Realm Ruler's games, forced to relive his final days."

"Yet, not as the hero who fell defending our home, but as a puppet unleashed upon the very city he died protecting."

The chamber seemed to shudder with his voice. "It was Crouzius. He paid the Realm Ruler a great price to immortalize his victory for all eternity."

Vulmir's voice sank, lower and colder than before. "And since Valdor had become a prize of the game, the only way to reclaim his remains was to enter the conquest itself."

"But by the time I learned of it, the realm had a few days left before it closed. I tried but failed, and soon, the event was over and all worlders were sent to their home worlds."

"And so my brother remained... chained in that mockery."

Venedikt felt the revelation settle heavily in his chest. 'So this is what happened.' The question that had come to his mind immediately after he learned of the Golden Skeleton's truth was now answered.

If the remains truly belonged to the brother of a hegemon, one of the strongest beings in the realm, then acquiring them from the Realm Ruler should have been a trivial matter.

But if the remains could only be acquired by an otherworlder through participation in the Realm Ruler's games, then even a hegemon's hands would be tied.

As for why Venedikt had succeeded where so many others failed, it was part skill, part luck. If he were forced to play the same game ten times over, he doubted he could succeed more than twice, and that was him being generous with his chances.

"I waited a thousand years for the realm to open," Vulmir said, his voice weighted with exhaustion and relief, "To retrieve my brother's remains, to give him the peace he deserved... and to find the closure I long desired."

"In the past two years, I sent twenty-seven teams into that Apex Conquest of the Sun Domain. All of them failed." His golden gaze fixed firmly on Venedikt.

"So you can imagine what your success means to me. For giving me closure and laying my brother to rest, you have my eternal gratitude."

His tone softened, warm as embers in the dark. "And I will repay it to the best of my ability."

"Benevolent Father," Venedikt replied with a smile, after seconds of silence, "you have my congratulations for finally fulfilling your long-awaited desire."

But Vulmir shook his head almost immediately, a gentle smile curving his lips. "No, no... You don't need to use that title with me. You are my great benefactor. Please, call me by my name. I would truly appreciate it."

Venedikt drew in a steady breath, then allowed a small smile of his own. "Elder Vulmir," he began carefully, "I do need your help."

Knowing now the true weight of what he had delivered, Venedikt knew he could get the help needed to deal with an imperial sect, but he decided to tread carefully.

For now, he would only ask about the powers responsible for kidnapping his disciples, and depending on how much interest Vulmir showed in the Amorpheus Sect, he would decide whether or not to let the man deeper into their predicament.

The last thing Venedikt wanted was to escape one fire, only to fall headlong into another, one much worse and without escape.

But unbeknownst to him, the saint-like man before him was only a mask for the masses. In truth, Vulmir was one of the greatest evils the realm had ever endured, perhaps the single worst entity Venedikt could have drawn into his life.

And yet, this meeting had always been fated. The moment Venedikt allowed a traitor into his sect, the path to Vulmir had been set.

----------------

The Plane of Silver is an endless frozen expanse lying north of the Cultivator Domain.

Few dared to tread its shimmering icefields. Not because it was a deathland, quite the opposite; the land overflowed with rare treasures and was relatively normal. However, no one roamed these lands because they were home to the Celestial Wardens.

The Celestial Wardens were the official law enforcers of the Cultivator Domain, an order established and overseen by the Seven Imperial Sects themselves.

At the heart of this desolate silver world rose the Pale Crucible, a bone-white spire that climbed for kilometers into the sky.

It held hundreds of floors, each lined with row upon row of rooms. Every chamber bore a wide glass window, giving the structure a strange, cold beauty, until one looked closer.

Behind every window sat a prisoner, clad in plain white garb, their expressions hollow, eyes dimmed of life, as though hope itself had been stripped away.

The Pale Crucible was no palace. It was a prison for those unfortunate enough to commit crimes so severe that they had drawn the ire of the Celestial Wardens.

Inside one such plain white room, a young man sat quietly, gazing out over the endless frozen plain.

His features were striking, handsome, his long golden hair freshly combed back, and his bright golden eyes shimmered with excitement, an expression utterly out of place in such a suffocating place.

"Praise the Benevolent Father," he whispered, raising his right palm. Upon it, a radiant sun-shaped sigil burned faintly.

"This symbol proves that my Benevolent Father has accepted me as his own." His smile widened, almost blissful. "They will think I have betrayed them, but in time, they will understand. They will all thank me, because this world is soon to end, and only the chosen shall survive."

He lowered his hand slowly, eyes gleaming with fervor. "By being chosen by the Benevolent Father, they have already taken their first step toward salvation."