Chapter 233: The Gathering of the Netherworld

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Blake remained seated, his gaze steady as he watched the old warrior across from him. The flickering light of the fire cast shifting shadows over the wooden interior, lending an eerie stillness to the space.

"Susanoo, after all the effort you went through to drag me here, was it just to give me a lecture?" His tone was cool, unimpressed.

Susanoo, sitting cross-legged by the hearth, let out a hearty chuckle as he lifted his sake cup. "Such arrogance. You may be a Campione now, but that doesn't mean you should disregard your elders."

He took a slow sip before glancing at Blake with an amused gleam in his eyes. "Still, I must say, I didn't expect you to figure out my true identity so quickly."

Blake smirked faintly. "Don't try to act superior. You gods are all the same. In the world of myths, you are revered and worshipped. But when you step beyond those boundaries, you become nothing more than Heretic Gods—beings that shouldn't exist in the mortal world. And yet, here you are, neither fully a god nor completely Heretic. So tell me, what exactly are you?"

Susanoo let out a deep sigh, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. "I was a Heretic God, once." His voice carried an edge of nostalgia.

"For over a thousand years, I wandered the earth, fighting, ruling, and destroying as I pleased. Eventually, I got tired of it. No one ever managed to slay me, so instead of returning to myth, I chose to withdraw. Now, I reside here, in this place between reality and legend."

Blake studied him, already piecing together the implications.

Gods were bound by their myths. When a Heretic God was defeated, they were forced back into their legend, fading into history once more.

But Susanoo had never been defeated.

Instead, he had removed himself from the cycle entirely, leaving him stranded in this limbo.

"This Netherworld," Susanoo continued, "is a sanctuary of sorts for those who don't belong in either world. There are many like me here—beings who still have unfinished ties to the mortal realm, unable or unwilling to let go."

He swirled his cup, his voice turning contemplative. "In a way, we serve as sentinels, watching over the living. If something dangerous emerges, sometimes we step in. Sometimes we clean up messes that others can't handle."

Blake scoffed. "You mean you interfere when it suits you."

Susanoo chuckled again. "That depends on how you look at it."

But Blake wasn't buying it. "Let's not dance around the issue. You dragged me here because I'm the disruption, right?"

A sharper gleam entered Susanoo's gaze. "Smart boy. If you were this country's Campione, it would be one thing. But an outsider running amok? That's another matter entirely. You should leave before you attract too much attention. Or are you afraid of the other Campione? Maybe someone like the Martial King?"

The underlying threat was clear.

Blake's expression remained neutral, but a faint pressure began to radiate from him, almost imperceptible at first.

"Luo Hao?" His voice was smooth, unwavering. "That's my concern, not yours." He leaned forward slightly, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Susanoo. "And let's get something straight—I let you bring me here. Because I have my own reasons for coming."

The tension in the room sharpened.

The temperature seemed to drop, an invisible force pressing against the air itself.

Susanoo exhaled, his smirk fading slightly. "I see. You intend to settle things here."

Blake's expression didn't change, but the smirk tugging at his lips was anything but friendly. "No. I intend to put you in your place."

A low chuckle echoed through the room.

It wasn't Susanoo's.

"Hah! Look at this brat, acting like he's already king of the world."

A new voice—harsh, mocking—cut through the tension.

From the shadows, a figure emerged.

He was draped in long, black priestly robes, but his skin was dry and withered, stretched tightly over his bones. His presence was unnatural, almost corpse-like, devoid of warmth or humanity.

The Priest.

Blake barely spared him a glance before another voice joined in, this one smooth and melodic.

"Sigh. Why must you men always be so violent? Wouldn't it be easier to settle this with words?"

Her tone was light, teasing.

Another figure stepped into the firelight.

She was stunning.

Dressed in an elaborate jūnihitoe, her silk robes layered in rich, vibrant hues, she carried the aura of an ancient noblewoman. Her waist-length, tea-brown hair framed a face so perfect it seemed untouched by time. Clear, glassy eyes shimmered with intelligence, and her presence exuded an effortless elegance.

A Heian-era princess, the embodiment of grace and refinement.

But Blake didn't so much as blink.

His cold gaze swept over the trio now gathered around the hearth.

Susanoo, the old warrior.

The Priest, a man clinging to existence.

And the Princess, a vision of beauty masking something far darker.

Blake smirked.

"Peaceful resolutions? With you lot?" His voice was thick with amusement.

The Priest's expression twisted in irritation. "You dare speak so insolently? You may be a Campione, but you're still a child before us. Have some respect—"

Blake cut him off with a slow, deliberate glance.

"Oh? I'm the insolent one?" His voice was almost lazy, but an unmistakable sharpness undercut his words. "Tell me, who here hasn't even reached enlightenment, yet still thinks they have the right to lecture me?"

The air grew heavy.

The Priest stiffened. His mouth opened, but no words came.

Blake's piercing blue eyes locked onto him, and for the briefest second, something flickered in the Priest's gaze—something raw.

Fear.

It was the fear of standing too close to a predator.

Blake's smirk widened, ever so slightly.

He hadn't even begun to unleash his power.

And already, the cracks were beginning to show.

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