Chapter Eighteen: Traces of Fangs

At first, when Carlisle revealed he was a member of the Blood Tribe, the three interrogators were momentarily stunned, but the council member monitoring the proceedings immediately became agitated and rushed off to inform the High Preserver.

Inside the interrogation chamber, Wilmot maintained his stern expression as he gazed at Carlisle. As the lead examiner of this inquiry, he could not afford to betray any emotion. “Why did you rebel against the Fang King? Where is the Fang King now? Why have you come to us?”

Carlisle pondered deeply, falling into his memories. “The Fang King told me that my parents had always been loyal members of the Blood Tribe. They died fighting the Empire of Light when I was born. One day, the Fang King, following a divine oracle, boarded a ship. With the aid of the gods, he brought us and the vessel to another star system. From as far back as I can remember, he led us through endless struggles in that system. Yet he was unbearably cruel—forcing us, upon coming of age, to slaughter one another, granting the victor all that belonged to the fallen. Unable to tolerate this, I conspired with a handful of others to escape. For reasons unknown, our plan was exposed. I alone managed to flee, escaping with the help of my companions in a stolen ship.”

As he spoke, Carlisle’s spirits fell once more, but he quickly composed himself. “Afterward, I found coordinates marked by the Fang King that pointed to the Star Spirit Empire. I entered a stasis pod and began my journey here. I imagine it must have been a very long time.”

Wilmot’s colleague, Doyle, the phase engineer responsible for investigating the ship, confirmed, “He is telling the truth, Lord Wilmot. Based on our analysis, he remained in stasis for at least two millennia. The ship’s speed was exceedingly slow.”

Wilmot nodded slightly and continued his questioning. “Do you know who stands behind the Fang King? Did your companions all have crystals on their foreheads as you do? And what are your intentions now?”

Carlisle considered carefully. “I’ve never heard of anyone behind him, except perhaps the Dark God he commands us to worship. My companions were like me, but the Fang King was different. He claimed to have received divine favor. As for myself…” Carlisle gave a bitter laugh. “I truly do not wish to return to my former life. I know I cannot connect with the Khala. I hope you can grant me a place of refuge.”

“You cannot connect with the Khala? How do you know this?” Wilmot, still pondering the identity of the Dark God, was taken aback by this revelation.

“The Fang King told us,” Carlisle explained. “He bestowed upon us something called the ‘Breath of the Creator,’ which supposedly brings us closer to the Dark God. But it is addictive, and it corrodes our psionic connection. My hair turned red because of it.” Carlisle ran his fingers through his crimson hair.

Wilmot had assumed the hair was dyed, but now, as a phase engineer, he found his interest piqued by this corrupting force—after all, to defeat one’s enemy, one must first understand them.

“Thank you for your candor. The council will deliberate on your fate and inform you of our decision. For now, you will remain under our surveillance.” With a nod from Wilmot and his two colleagues, they departed the chamber, leaving Carlisle to exhale in relief; at least, for the moment, his safety seemed assured.

Wilmot, Phoenix, and Corolarion proceeded to the council chamber aboard the Sebros, where the elders of the Light and Shadow Council and the High Preserver awaited.

“So, this Carlisle betrayed the Fang King of his own will,” Mardonis tapped the armrest, thoughtful. His term nearly ended, yet so much had transpired—the Fang King’s whereabouts had even surfaced. It seemed imperative to expedite the handover and focus on his cultivation.

“That Carlisle could resist both the lure of the Fang King’s power and the torment of addiction, crossing millennia to reach us, speaks to a conscience not yet lost. Still, the darkness within him cannot remain. If he wishes to stay, I believe the Nerazim would not object to his joining them,” suggested Elder Boonian after some thought.

“I agree with Elder Boonian,” said Gabriel of the Nerazim with a smile. “Though, to join us, he might have to shave his head.” The Nerazim, having severed their connection to the Khala, could still participate in such deliberations thanks to Purifier technology.

“What is your view, High Preserver?” Mardonis turned to Rohana, who had remained silent.

“It is clear Carlisle is a child of the Star Spirit Empire, stolen with his peers by the Fang King in infancy. His return to the right path demonstrates the Fang King’s cruelty. Yet, two thousand years have passed—who knows if that cunning villain has moved again? Should that be the case, we have once more lost his trail. The Dark God behind him gives me a sense of foreboding,” Rohana spoke slowly after some thought. “Still, this news confirms the involvement of a demon behind the Fang King. I suspect his long presence on Aiur was to seize the Khaydarin relics. There may be a far greater plot at work.”

Mardonis nodded. “Indeed, the Fang King’s schemes are surfacing, but the shadows beneath the surface are more immense still. We must hasten our search for the relics and rescue those children. Whatever his plot, if we reclaim the relics, his ambitions will be thwarted.”

The elders all voiced their agreement. In the ensuing discussion, the Light and Shadow Council resolved to expand the Empire’s reach toward neighboring star systems. According to the Academy’s calculations, Carlisle’s ship most likely originated from a nearby system, but the lack of a proper star chart—and errors in the ship’s navigation—meant a broad, sweeping search must be undertaken.

As for Carlisle’s fate, the elders were unanimous: if he willingly abandoned his dark arts, he would come under Nerazim supervision; if not, he would remain imprisoned.

Wilmot relayed the decision to Carlisle, who, without hesitation, chose to relinquish his corrupted powers.

When Carlisle next awoke from unconsciousness, the weakness he felt was no longer from confinement, but from the loss of power he had cultivated for years. During the purification, a portion of void energy remained within him; his strength fell from level ten to level five. The once crimson crystal on his brow had become green—the sign of a successful purification. Never again would he have to endure his former life.

Touching his now smooth scalp, Carlisle could not help but smile. Emerging from the laboratory and gazing at the lush forest outside, he felt his very soul cleansed. Before the purification, Wilmot had told him there was something important to discuss, but only after the procedure. Now, curiosity gnawed at Carlisle.

Navigating the portal awkwardly, Carlisle took a deep breath and entered Wilmot’s office. Having already been taught the basics of communication devices, he quickly received Wilmot’s summons.

“Carlisle, there is something you must know. You must remain calm.” Wilmot’s icy demeanor only made Carlisle more anxious.

“Your parents were most likely killed by the Fang King. You were meant to be a member of the Star Spirit Empire, but the wicked Fang King not only slew your parents, but also abducted you. The proof lies in the crystal on your brow—a mark only those blessed by the Khala can bear.” Wilmot delivered the shocking revelation in one breath.

Carlisle felt dizzy; was his entire life a fabrication? He thought of his fallen friends, the parents he had never known, and his companions still deceived by the Fang King. Forcing himself to remain composed, he wiped the blood from his mouth where he had bitten his lip and answered resolutely, “I understand. Thank you.”

Watching Carlisle depart, Wilmot could only sigh. The atrocities committed by the Fang King were countless. Only by finding and ending him could this endless suffering be brought to a close.

Back in his quarters, Carlisle buried himself deep within his bedding. No one knew how he spent that night, save for his bloodshot eyes the next day, betraying his unrest.

In the days that followed, Carlisle devoted himself to the training of the Dark Templar, but the fury in his heart made it difficult to master the arts of concealment. Seeing his turmoil, Rashagal instructed him to visit the Dark Sanctuary and study.

Aware of his emotional struggles, Carlisle was despondent, yet he could not find peace. Lacking the Khala’s connection, he could sense no comfort from others. Whenever he closed his eyes, the faces of his old companions appeared before him.

At the Dark Sanctuary, Carlisle immersed himself in the boundless sea of knowledge. In this ocean, his own wisdom clashed with that of his ancestors, and his inner rage drove him to seek greater power.

Eventually, Carlisle’s obsession with his studies led him to invent the most formidable secret art ever devised—the Rite of Fusion. Inspired by the methods of the great Twilight God, he reasoned: if light and darkness can be merged, what of pure light and pure darkness? Thus, he created a forbidden technique: by two or more Star Spirits sacrificing themselves to merge, an immensely powerful being—a High Archon—could be formed. According to Carlisle’s theory, if those merging were strong enough, they could attain the rank of demigod, or perhaps even approach true divinity.