Chapter 1612: The Two-Horned Marshal - 3
After one full hour—
Grrrrrrr
The great gate of the Meditation Hall slowly creaked open, its echo rolling like thunder through the silent corridors, and several dark silhouettes emerged from behind it...
"Marshal Aro, we’ve brought the gift," one of them said quietly, his tone both respectful and wary.
"Enter." Aro turned his head slightly, his wife standing tall and composed beside him. The loose, flowing robes he wore were soft and comfortable, yet not a single thread dulled the commanding aura radiating from him. His gaze flicked briefly toward the door. "But be careful—he still bites."
"He doesn’t even have the fangs left to bite with anymore, Marshal." one of the men replied with a faint, almost mocking smile, showing a row of perfectly aligned teeth. Then he pressed a firm hand against the figure standing in the center and shoved him forward. "Move!"
ClingClang
Chains rattled loudly.
The man in the middle shuffled forward, each step slow and heavy. Around his neck, wrists, and ankles were massive, rune-etched shackles that seemed to weigh as much as mountains. With every step, his back hunched as though he bore an entire world’s burden on his shoulders.
He was not an ordinary prisoner. His long, tufted ears — reminiscent of both fox and wolf — twitched slightly under the hall’s cold air, and a single thick blue tail trailed behind him, swaying faintly.
Apart from these striking features, he looked like a creature who had survived in darkness for decades, a being dragged up from some forgotten underworld. His skin was pale, his hair matted, his eyes burning but sunken.
Behind him, a squad of six black wasps advanced in perfect formation. They carried their weapons at the ready, every movement crisp and precise, prepared to strike at a moment’s notice.
"Ragnar..." Aro stepped forward, his pace steady, his head held high with quiet authority. "You look just as pitiful now as the first time you came to me."
"How do you expect me to look?!"
Contrary to what one might have anticipated, the prisoner lifted his head sharply and locked eyes with Aro, staring straight into the depths of his soul-force. "Should I dance with joy at being captured and dragged across sectors like cattle?!"
Aro’s lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile... This was no ordinary captive. He was the younger brother of the Emperor of the Twilight Spectrum Empire, a low-tier Nexus State who was said to be second in line for the throne.
The only other low-tier Nexus State of that empire was an aged recluse who shunned power and preferred the silence of seclusion to the weight of rulership.
Decades earlier, Rinara herself had struck this man with an attack combining her nine stars. That single blow had shredded his body into scattered pieces; only the powerful planetary artifact he carried kept him alive. His brothers had placed him within a restoration array and continued their pursuit of Rinara across the void of space... but when they returned, the array was empty, and the man was gone.
Caesar acted swiftly. He dispatched an elite strike team composed of the most formidable Shadow Swords and the cream of the Cradle Empire’s forces to track, kidnap, and secure Ragnar before he could resurface.
They succeeded.
Yet Caesar faced a dilemma: the prisoner was far too valuable to kill, yet impossible to subdue and use directly. To enslave him openly would mean immediate, bloody conflict with the Twilight Spectrum Empire and would fracture his carefully cultivated relationships with the surrounding powers.
So Caesar devised a harsher plan. He embedded advanced sealing nails into Ragnar’s chest, branded him with one of the most potent and expensive slavery seals known in the Soul Society — a seal used only on the most dangerous beings. Then, after healing him and stabilizing his condition, then shipped him off to the Grave Empire along with a single cold message: "Remember this, O Two-Horned One."
Aro had no reason to rejoice over this "gift," nor to feel anger at suddenly being indebted to Caesar. Whatever the intent, he now had to face and manage the newcomer himself.
Through the slavery seal, Aro found he could issue commands — but Ragnar executed them without spirit, without a shred of loyalty.
If ordered, "attack that one," he would step forward, throw a single punch, and then stand still again. If commanded to "go kill that one," he would begin moving but deliberately slow himself, searching for tricks to give the target a chance to escape. He was compelled to act, but his mind stayed awake, resisting execution at every turn.
Thus Aro had eventually thrown him into prison to wait.
"Ragnar, I’m preparing an assault on a Centennial Empire," Aro said now, his voice low but carrying through the hall. He continued walking until he stood directly before the prisoner, their eyes level. "I will send you to the vanguard regardless. It’s better for you to listen to my instructions and not hold yourself back — otherwise you’ll die at the hands of my enemies."
"Death is better than living as a slave!!" Ragnar roared, his voice booming like thunder and making the very air of the Meditation Hall tremble. "Give me the order to kill myself and you’ll see — I won’t hesitate for even a heartbeat!"
"And why would you kill yourself?" Aro smiled. "If it’s because of humiliation, we’re in a different sector — none of those you know are here. My reach won’t touch anyone you’ve seen before, so why do you feel this way? And before the war I’ll get you a high-grade mask to hide your face and ears more. What do you think?" He leaned forward slightly. "But if your anger comes from your fate as a slave, I have a proposal."
"..." Ragnar knitted his brows but kept silent.
"Ten thousand years." Aro raised his fingers. "Serve me for ten thousand years and I’ll give you your freedom. Consider it a trip to another sector or a private training retreat to strengthen yourself for war. What do you say?"
"Ten thousand years?!" Ragnar’s brows tightened hard — this was very little for his lifespan. "You’re lying!"
"Marshal Aro does not lie!" Aro produced an advanced oath tablet and channeled his soul sense into it. "I swear that if you serve me faithfully for ten thousand years I will remove the slavery seal and grant you your freedom. If I fail in my oath, let heaven strike me dead."
"...." Flora and even the six black wasps narrowed their eyes and exchanged glances.
"You know what?" Aro looked at the tablet for a moment, then sighed and extended his hand. "Take it — keep it with you until you feel more at ease."
"....?!" Ragnar reached out, unable to believe the chance, and began to examine the strange tablet. "This looks real..."
"Do we have an agreement or not?!" Aro sounded annoyed, hesitant. "If you don’t want it, return the tablet to me."
"We do!" Ragnar hugged the tablet tightly. "Ha ha — of course we do, ha ha!"
"Heh~" Aro sighed, then weakly motioned toward the guards. "Unbind him and send him to General Kandal’s front. He’ll know what to do."
"Understood." The six wasps nodded. "After we hand him over our mission to secure him ends and we will depart. Any further instructions?"
"Tsk~ Everyone’s in a hurry to go play away these days... No, I want nothing else. Leave!" Aro waved, a trace of anger in his motion, then returned to stroll toward the battlement.
Flora waited a few moments longer, watching the prisoner laugh as his bonds were removed and he was led away, and until the gate was closed.
Grrrrr
She followed Aro. "Did you have to give him such a promise? You looked uncomfortable and you were right. Returning him to Sector 100 — even after ten thousand years — will bring Caesar trouble. Maybe you should have—" She fell silent at that moment.
The anger, the tension, and all those turbulent emotions vanished from Aro’s face, replaced by a smile full of challenge and triumph. Then he began to laugh. "Heehee ha ha ha — how naive you are."
"...What’s wrong?" Flora frowned. "Are you going to break your promise?"
"Of course not. How could I? After ten thousand years I’ll give him his freedom without a doubt." Aro resumed laughing. "That is, if he’s alive by then, heehee."
Then he stared toward the horizon with sharp eyes. "Oh Caesar, Caesar, Caesar... I now hold +60 planets and you +70. Let’s see after a century who will win this rivalry!"