Aetherion raised his hand slightly, a flicker of command in his gaze. "Stand down." His voice was calm, but a dangerous undercurrent rippled beneath the surface. His lips curled into a faint smirk. "Let him speak. This is getting far too interesting to interrupt."
The guards hesitated, their overwhelming auras simmering down to a low hum, though their anger remained palpable. Few dared to show such insolence in the Sovereign's court, and fewer still lived to tell the tale.
Aetherion leaned back on his throne, his golden eyes sparkling with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. For beings of their stature, everyone present in the hall had lived for eons millions, perhaps billions of years. By their standards, Ray and Ember were mere children, infants compared to the vastness of their experiences. Yet, even among this gathering of ancient titans, the tension was palpable.
Ray finally spoke, his voice calm yet cutting, as if daring anyone to silence him. "I don't care for your theatrics. Or you. Or this ridiculous court." His silver eyes burned as they turned toward Ember. "I am here for one reason, and one reason only to ask you. Did you? Or did you not?"
The hall froze. Even the ancient, venerable figures seated above shifted uncomfortably at the sheer audacity of the question.
Aetherion raised an eyebrow, his amusement faltering. For the first time, he seemed taken aback. "Oh?"
Ray stepped forward, each movement deliberate, cutting through the oppressive silence. He ignored the Sovereign entirely, his piercing gaze fixed solely on Ember.
"Answer me," he demanded, his tone void of emotion, yet laced with an intensity that could not be ignored.
Ember met his gaze, her violet eyes unflinching. Her voice, when it came, was cold and detached, devoid of any emotion. "Yes. That's true. I said it myself."
A deafening silence followed her words. The hall seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the storm that was sure to follow.
Aetherion's smirk returned, wider and crueler than before. He leaned forward, his golden eyes alight with sadistic glee. "Ahaha! And the punishment for such a crime is…" He paused, savoring the moment. "Cultivation destruction, of course." His tone was playful, as though he were delivering the punchline of a particularly entertaining joke.
Before he could finish, Ray's hand moved.
A faint glow emanated from the silver rose tattoo etched onto his wrist, its intricate petals shimmering with an unearthly light. The energy around him surged violently, wild and unrestrained. A thunderous crack split the air as the power exploded outward, sending shockwaves rippling through the hall.
Aetherion's laughter died abruptly. His golden eyes narrowed as he sat back, studying the scene with an unreadable expression.
A trickle of blood escaped Ray's lips, but he swallowed it, his pride refusing to show any sign of weakness.
The Sovereign's gaze flicked toward Ember, whose stoic mask cracked, if only for a moment. A flicker of horror flashed in her violet eyes before she schooled her expression back into cold indifference.
"You…" Aetherion murmured, his amusement replaced by disbelief. "Destroying your own cultivation? You're insane."
For someone of Ray's status, it was unthinkable. Ray Whiterose was no ordinary boy. As a direct descendant of the primordial imperial family, his talent was unparalleled. At birth, he had already attained the cultivation level of Heavenly King a realm that took even geniuses tens of thousands of years to reach. His potential was limitless, his future destined for the highest peaks of existence.
And yet, he had thrown it all away.
"You've made your point, boy," Aetherion said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "But this… this is madness."
From the elevated seats, a venerable figure leaned forward. His ancient aura pressed down on the hall like the weight of a collapsing star. His voice was low, yet it carried the gravity of millennia. "You've proven yourself a fool. Emotionally unstable. Weak. A disappointment."
He sneered, his gaze cold and calculating. "Perhaps your family was right to abandon you. They must have seen your unworthiness long before the rest of us."
Ray said nothing, his body trembling from the excruciating pain of destroying his cultivation. For anyone else, the agony would have been unbearable. Even cultivators ten stages above his level would have collapsed under such torment. Yet Ray remained standing, his pride refusing to let him fall.
The venerable figure tilted his head, his sneer deepening. "You're a child throwing a tantrum. Do you truly believe this spectacle proves anything? Or is it simply a desperate bid for attention from a family that has already written you off?"
Aetherion, recovering his composure, chuckled darkly. "Tell me, Ray Whiterose," he said, his tone mocking once more. "Do you even understand what you've done? You've gone from a shining star to nothing more than a flickering ember."
The Sovereign's gaze shifted back to Ember, his smirk growing wider. "And you, young lady. Do you have anything to say to your… former beloved?"
Ember didn't move, her violet eyes still fixed on Ray. For the first time, however, there was no trace of coldness in her gaze. Just silence.
The venerable figure continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're emotionally unstable, incapable of handling even a minor setback. And don't tell me…" He leaned closer, his mocking sneer twisting into something cruel. "Don't tell me you actually loved that girl?"
Ray didn't answer. His body trembled, wracked with pain from his self-inflicted cultivation destruction, but his expression remained unreadable. The silence stretched, thick with tension.
Aetherion, finally recovering from his earlier shock, let out a soft chuckle. "Tragic, really. To think a child of such potential could fall so low." He leaned back on his throne, the smirk on his lips widening. "You've gone from a shining star to nothing more than a worthless pebble."
Ember stood still, her violet eyes locked on Ray. Her expression was as calm and unreadable as ever. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something else something only someone truly perceptive might have noticed. A flicker of sadness. A hint of horror buried deep within her gaze, hidden from all but the most discerning eyes.
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