Adrian slowly withdrew his willforce, pulling the unfathomable depths of his mind back within the boundaries of his own physical form.
The immediate relief in the void was palpable, like a crushing planetary gravity suddenly lifting to allow the universe to breathe once more. Malakor, the aristocratic elder of the Starlight Sanctum who had been forced onto his knees, gasped, his chest heaving violently as the agonizing, crushing sensation on his mind finally evaporated.
Beside him, Tyberius stopped his frantic thrashing, his gaunt, shadow-wreathed frame trembling uncontrollably as he pushed himself up from the invisible floor of space.
Voss, the battle-hungry titan of the Cerulean Spear Sect, stood completely paralyzed; his cerulean spear was lowered in defeat. With Adrian pulling his willforce back, the three elders slowly stabilized themselves as they floated in the silent void.
For a tense, agonizing second, the three Astral Stage elders exchanged guarded, terrified glances. Countless unspoken questions and horrifying realizations passed between them in that fleeting, silent exchange.
However, despite the chaos reeling inside their minds, they all arrived at one undeniable conclusion. This person standing in front of them was definitely not a junior.
The density and overwhelming weight of the willforce he had just projected proved that his mastery of consciousness was already at the second stage, placing him on the exact same pinnacle of existence as their own Lesser Major Sect Leaders. In front of such an ancient being, the three of them were nothing more than the true juniors.
As they steadied, their minds raced with a singular suspicion: Adrian must have deliberately created a fake scene of ascending into the Astral Stage. Furthermore, he must have meticulously faked the phenomenon of the Chime of Consciousness to deceive the entire universe into believing he was a newly risen anomaly.
To these elders, it was the only logical explanation that fit the reality of their shattered pride. The growth of willforce was a universal absolute; it was not something that could be artificially forced, rushed, or conjured out of thin air. It was an agonizing, time-consuming process that could only be slowly accumulated through millions upon millions of years of experiencing life, hardship, and the very fabric of existence. A boy who had supposedly just ascended could never possess an ocean of willforce that mirrored a Major Sect Leader's depth.
But then, a torrent of questions flooded their thoughts, threatening to pull them back into panic. Why would an ancient monster of his caliber go to such an extreme extent to create all these elaborate acts? Why disguise himself as a fledgling anomaly in a backwater galaxy like Andromeda? What grand, cosmic scheme was he plotting that required such a flawless, humiliating deception?
Adrian interrupted their spiraling, paranoid thoughts with a casual wave of his hand. Drawing upon his command of the arcane concepts, he once again condensed a perfectly carved wooden table and four chairs right in the middle of the empty void. The sudden manifestation of mundane furniture in the intergalactic vacuum was a jarring contrast to the mental devastation he had just wrought.
He sat upon the head chair, his demeanor as relaxed as if the brutal clash moments prior had never occurred.
"Come, take a seat," Adrian said smoothly, gesturing toward the empty chairs opposite him. He leaned forward, his eyes sweeping over theelders with a serene intensity. "There is no need to tremble. Not everything in this universe needs to be handled with our powers, domains, and violence. Often, simply sitting down and talking can solve things far easier."
The three elders flinched slightly at his words. The one who had just crushed them beneath raw willforce was now lecturing them on the usefulness of conversation. Yet none of them dared to disobey his invitation.
They moved cautiously, taking their seats at the wooden table with rigid, defensive postures, treating the simple wooden chairs as if they were fragile artifacts that might detonate under a wrong movement.
None of them dared to ask about their deep suspicions or interrogate him regarding his true age and origins. In their eyes, the dynamic had completely and irreversibly shifted. They no longer saw him as a reckless, arrogant boy. They saw him as a hidden monster who had allowed them to misunderstand him until the exact moment he decided to correct their behavior.
"As you say, Senior," Malakor replied, his aristocratic arrogance entirely replaced by a cautious, humble tone that bordered on subservience.
"We are honored to listen to your words, Senior," Tyberius added.
For a brief moment, Adrian was genuinely taken aback and confused. He could not quite grasp why they were suddenly calling him Senior with such trembling reverence. He was technically far younger than any of them, a fact he knew perfectly well, but as he looked at their bowed heads, rigid frames, and careful expressions, he could only conclude that it must be because he had proven himself to be vastly more powerful than them that they were acting like this.
In a universe governed entirely by strength, power dictated hierarchy, and he had just crushed their minds with his willforce without even lifting his sword. From their perspective, perhaps that was enough.
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Accepting the title without further thought, Adrian leaned back in his chair, folding his hands casually on his lap. "Listen to me carefully," he began, "Your respective Major Sects cannot simply assume they can hire me as some tool and then forget about the consequences when I refuse. Actually, aren't our galaxies neighbors in this galaxy cluster? We share the borders of the vast intergalactic void. So why should we immediately dive into hostility and bloodshed over a simple rejection?"
If someone else, particularly a newly ascended junior from a minor galaxy, had spoken these words, the three elders would have sneered, flipped the table, and argued that the strong naturally devour the weak. But power was the only truth that mattered in the universe. In front of a vastly superior existence who could snap their consciousness like a twig, whatever he said became the uncontested, undeniable law.
Malakor, Voss, and Tyberius exchanged quick, subservient glances before they all agreed, nodding their heads in synchronized submission.
"You speak wisdom, Senior," Malakor said smoothly, masking his internal terror behind a facade of total agreement. "Hostility between neighbors is indeed a tragic waste of valuable resources and time."
"The Cerulean Spear Sect respects your boundaries, Senior," Voss grunted, forcing his pride down to bow his head slightly toward the table. "We let ambition cloud our judgment."
Adrian nodded, thoroughly satisfied with their sudden compliance. "I will soon make a personal trip to your respective galaxies to speak directly with your Sect Leaders," Adrian declared, his eyes locking onto each of them in turn, ensuring the weight of his promise landed heavily on their shoulders. "I believe a direct conversation with the rulers of the Starlight Sanctum, the Cerulean Spear Sect, and the Veiled Horizon Sect will clarify our future relationship. But for now, you may take your fleets and go back to your own galaxies."
The three elders immediately got up from their wooden chairs, eager to escape the suffocating presence of this hidden monster. They wished for nothing more than to put millions of light-years between themselves and Andromeda.
But just before they could turn and retreat, Adrian raised his hand, his voice dropping into a chilling, commanding register. "And make sure to spread what you have seen here today..."
Adrian paused, keeping quiet for a moment as a strategic thought crossed his mind. He needed to ensure that no other factions or wandering titans would test the borders of Andromeda while he was solidifying the foundation of the Origin Sect. He needed a deterrent so absolute that the entire universe would hesitate to cross his borders.
"...And if your sect leaders, or anyone else from other galaxies, think they can just casually come here to my territory like you did, have a warning spread on my behalf," Adrian continued, "Those who come with ill intent will face a force far stronger than me!"
The moment those bold words hung in the vacuum of space, the three elders' eyes widened to impossible proportions. A cold chill broke out across Malakor's neck as the final, horrifying piece of the puzzle clicked into place in his highly analytical mind.
"A hidden organization!" Malakor thought, his heart hammering against his ribs in terror.
In the vast and ancient history of the universe, there were always whispers of certain legendary sects and organizations that never truly went public. One could never find them through any premium information channels. Their exact locations were impossible to trace, their members appeared and disappeared without leaving proper records, and even their true names remained shrouded in myth. They existed as phantoms for eras, dwelling in forgotten corners of existence, and then, suddenly, they would emerge at seemingly random moments, effortlessly shaking the established power structures of the universe and rewriting the rules of supremacy.
These kinds of hidden organizations were extremely rare, but the bloody history of the universe proved that one could never underestimate such forces. And now, thinking deeply about everything that had been happening within the Andromeda Galaxy, the inexplicable meteoric rise of the Crimson Vital Sect, the sudden manifestation of a Prime Arcane Concept, the supremacy war, the fake-looking Chime of Consciousness, and this monstrous being with second-stage mastery of consciousness, Malakor came to a terrifying conclusion. Adrian must be a pawn, or perhaps a major vanguard figure, sent to the public stage by a supreme hidden organization!
This perfectly answered every lingering doubt they had carried. It explained why he had slowly revealed his power instead of simply claiming supremacy over the Andromeda Galaxy from the very beginning. Adrian could have easily conquered the galaxy without war given his true strength, but hidden organizations always operated with thoughts and designs entirely different from public factions, making their grand schemes incredibly hard to predict.
The force far stronger than him that he mentioned could only mean the ancient, unfathomable monstrosities leading this hidden sect. If a so-called junior or public representative of this hidden faction possessed second-stage consciousness mastery, what kind of horrifying, reality-breaking power did his masters wield?
Tyberius's mind reached the same conclusion almost instantly, and the shadows around him tightened in fear. To a sect like Veiled Horizon, which survived on information, secrecy, leverage, and hidden movements, the possibility of an organization even more deeply concealed than themselves was terrifying.
Voss, though less analytical than the other two, understood enough to realize that Adrian's warning was not merely about him. If there were beings behind him who were stronger, then even the Cerulean Spear Sect's martial pride could not casually dismiss the threat.
"We... we understand perfectly, Senior," Tyberius said, ensuring he kept his terrifying realizations locked securely within his own mind. "We shall deliver your exact words and spread your warning to the farthest reaches of our networks. Your territory will be respected as forbidden ground."
"The Cerulean Spear Sect respects true strength above all," Voss grunted, pressing a massive fist over his armored chest, "Your message will be delivered, Senior. We will not intrude again."
Malakor finally offered a flawless, aristocratic bow, and said, "You have our absolute word, Senior. We will not fail to convey the gravity of your warning to our Sect Leaders and the surrounding galaxies."
Adrian nodded, satisfied with the amount of deference he had extracted, and waved his hand dismissively, officially ending the interview.
Without daring to linger for a single second longer, the three elders quickly scrambled away. Within moments, they reappeared on the command decks of their respective flagships, barking frantic orders to their commanders.
The massive engines of the three major armadas ignited simultaneously, and the colossal fleets retreated back to the Kyros, Vanguard, and Oryx galaxies, fleeing the silent borders of Andromeda as if they were escaping the maw of a cosmic leviathan.
