CHAPTER 160
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CHAPTER 160
290 AC
POV THIRD PERSON
UNKNOWN UNDERGROUND CATACOMBS
In the heart of a dimly lit, circular chamber, a man draped in immaculate white attire occupied one of the seven throne-like chairs that encircled a grand, round table made out of shiny black stone. Despite the ancient aura of the room, not a trace of dust marred its surfaces. The walls, fashioned from glossy, obsidian-like stone, bore meticulously carved motifs and intricate ritualistic carvings that adorned their surfaces.
The solemnity of the moment was abruptly disrupted as the chamber's doors flung open. In strode two women and a man, their voices raised in fervent argument. The man, standing tall with a physique reminiscent of a chiseled statue, boasted skin of the deepest hues of black, reflecting a healthy vitality. Though short, stout, and robust, not a hint of excess fat could be found on his muscular frame. His dark brown armor, noticeably absent of sleeves, showcased the power in his thick, sinewy arms.
One of the women, elderly yet commanding, possessed a crown of snow-white hair that did little to diminish her regal and formidable presence. The other woman, a striking figure with a cascade of fiery red hair bound in a lengthy braid that descended to her waist, was clad in vibrant red armor, her toned physique exuding a blend of strength and beauty that was nothing short of remarkable.
Taking their seats around the stone table, the man in white inquired of the elderly woman,
"Why have you summoned this meeting?"
Her response was swift and direct:
"Where are the others?"
The red-haired woman interjected, her tone laced with scorn,
"Do you honestly expect those peculiar beings to grace us with their presence? They are likely preoccupied with their arcane diversions."
The elderly woman's tone shifted, her voice tinged with frustration as she revealed a startling revelation as she pointed at the red-haired woman, "Are you aware of what she did? She mercilessly slaughtered all my men to conceal the existence of the druid."
The dark-skinned man, brows furrowing in concern, questioned her actions,
"Why would you resort to such measures?"
The red-haired woman chimed in, her impatience evident,
"Because a profound boredom consumes me! Because of you two."
She continued while pointing at the dark-skinned man and the man in white. She turned to the man in white,
"You corrupted Azor Ahai before I could engage him. After he sacrificed his wife for power, he became nothing more than an empty vessel!"
She turned to the dark-skinned man, "And you obliterated one of the greatest empires without notifying me. I was eagerly anticipating that war."
Her frustration culminated in a forceful blow to the stone table, causing it to shatter momentarily before miraculously mending itself.
"Why did I agree to join forces with you all? I did not do so for mere sustenance; I only longed for the vibrant feast I could engage in on the battlefield. Allow me to clarify—should you interfere with him before he attains his full potential, I shall confront you, even to the death. If I am deprived of worthy adversaries, then I shall content myself with dueling you all."
She continued smashing her fists on the stone table and threw a temper tantrum like a child,
"I AM SO BORED!!!"
The elderly woman tried to reason with her,
"Why are you acting so recklessly? He may be the new champion of the true god of this realm."
Unfazed, the red-haired woman's retort was uncompromising,
"Very well, I hope he is. Even if he is the champion, what difference would it make? We require war and chaos. For him to establish his presence necessitates a confrontation with the faithful of the Seven. Is that not what we desire?"
The dark-skinned man said,
"Even if we refrain from intervening, she, being the closest to Westeros, has already suffered an affront to her servants. Do you honestly believe she would overlook such an affront?"
The red-haired woman sneers at him,
"Unless the druid presents himself at her doorstep, she would remain indifferent. She doesn't care about any of them. Should he fail to unify Westeros and beat her, I shall not concern myself with one so feeble."
The elderly woman, her tone fraught with exasperation, implored, "Are you advocating for her demise?"
The red-haired woman's response was unequivocal,
"No, I am conveying my indifference. Do not feign concern for one another, for none of us harbor such sentiments. Our alliance serves the purpose of quelling the indigenous gods whenever we set foot on a new world. I am simply forthright in my declaration that I would remain unmoved should any of you meet your end. I am well aware that you share my sentiments. So, keep your crocodile tears for yourself."
The man in white interjected thoughtfully, "What if you die at his hand, too? Are you indifferent to your own demise as well?"
"Indeed, I am," she affirmed.
"Though I may experience vexation and perhaps unleash devastation upon this planet when I return to my true body, I shall eventually venture elsewhere and commence a new game. Why are you all acting like this is our final destination? This is just a dinner stop with games."
The dark-skinned man weighed in, posing a pivotal question, "Shall we abstain from interfering until he ushers in an era of new order?"
The man in white, considering the arguments presented, offered a pragmatic perspective,
"She does raise valid points. By refraining from intervention, we allow him to sow the seeds of war and chaos, a circumstance that would serve our interests until the time when he establishes order. Then it warrants for our involvement."
A decision was reached. The red-haired woman, with a touch of nostalgia in her voice, recalled a bygone era, lamenting,
"I yearn for the age of heroes, a time when powerful beings roamed freely. Each day was marked by arduous struggles and epic battles. I long for another grand confrontation and am resolved to achieve it. Allow me to be unequivocal: if any of you intend to send your servants to Westeros, consider the consequences, for I have indulged in this abundance dinner long enough, and I need not strip every morsel from its bones. All I desire is glorious battles to come, nothing else."
The red-haired woman, reflecting on her past conquests, revealed a deep-seated yearning for battle.
"I miss The Dawn Emperor," she mused. "They say you never forget your first. It holds true—I still recall the day I stood before his lifeless body."
While caressing a prominent scar that ran through her neck to chest tenderly, she continued,
"Perhaps I should have savored that moment more, for he was the sole human to offer me such a grand gift."
A fond smile graced her lips as she recollected, "My blood still boils at the memory of that battle. None of his descendants ever matched his might. With each passing generation, they grew weaker. It took us millennia, but with the assistance of our dear sister, we corrupted that envious weakling and brought an end to their dynasty. Mortals, in their ignorance, believe they emerged victorious."
With the grand tourney of words concluded, those beings departed the chamber, their intentions clear. As they ventured into the realm of men, they would continue to shape events from the shadows, orchestrating chaos and conflict until the time was ripe for their intervention.