Chapter 237: I Don’t Need To Remind You Again, As You Will Not Be Alive To Repent

Words : 1063 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Chapter 237: I Don’t Need To Remind You Again, As You Will Not Be Alive To Repent "I warned you," Lilith said, her voice quiet and firm, not needing volume to carry weight. He didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was weaker than before—thin, brittle, the kind that came not from age, but from the exhaustion of knowing too much too late. "There are always those who forget," he said. Lilith tilted her head slightly, just once. "I don’t need to remind you again, as you will not be alive to repent." That was the only answer she gave. She raised her hand. No weapon. No spell. No display. Just her palm, raised at shoulder level. The cathedral shifted. A silver shimmer moved through the air—not loud, not flashing—just a soft, slow ripple that passed across the room like a breath held too long. It touched everything. The torches. The bones. The offerings. The guards were standing frozen at the gates, the kneeling cultists. Even the wind that had been threading through the cathedral’s broken stones paused. Not frozen. Suspended. Like the world itself didn’t want to be interrupted. The high priest opened his mouth again. He didn’t manage a word. Because the moment the shimmer touched the base of the dais, the ancient stone cracked. Not shattered. Cracked. The kind of crack that came from memory, not pressure. A break formed not by force, but by rejection. By recognition. The ground beneath him split, and the walls followed, their old stones sighing with the weight of something too long held. Even the ceiling above them gave way, not falling but folding—quietly collapsing in on itself. The structure had remembered who it truly belonged to. And it no longer had room for the pretenders. The snow outside didn’t melt. It vanished, like it had never been there in the first place. The warmth inside the cathedral curled inwards, drawn back into silence. +The cultists didn’t scream. They didn’t try to run. There was no terror. Only acceptance. As if, deep down, they knew they weren’t meant to survive this memory. They dissolved—softly, gently. Their shapes blurred, then faded. No flames. No blood. Just... absence. The high priest stayed standing. His posture didn’t falter. His expression didn’t change. But the space around him crumbled; it was not the floor, nor the building. The moment itself disappeared. Lilith lowered her hand. The shimmer faded. The snow returned to the air. But the cathedral did not. Where there had once been stone and age and misguided ritual, now there was nothing but white. Unbroken snow. Smooth. Untouched. No ruins. No echoes. No proof. Lilith turned around and walked the path she had come from. There were no guards left. No cultists. No followers watching. They were gone too. The frame descended just as she reached the ridge. She stepped onto it and lifted back into the sky. Back at the mansion, the vault’s interface darkened fully. There were no lights left to blink. No signals left to track. Three daughters had gone out. One queen had followed. And the cult that tried to touch Ethan... no longer existed. Not destroyed. Erased. The return was quiet. Lilith stepped off the transport and into the garden without a word. The koi beneath the water drifted slowly, their movements unbothered. The wind touched the trees, but no longer carried cold. The house recognized her return. Lights warmed. Halls softened. No music played. No voices greeted her—only stillness with weight. The front doors opened a second before she reached them. A maid stood beside the entryway, her head respectfully lowered, with a warm towel in her hands. Lilith accepted the towel but didn’t stop walking. She didn’t dry her hands. The salon was lit softly. A kettle rested on a small silver burner, the flame below it steady, designed to warm but not boil. She took a seat and poured herself a cup. Then waited. Liliana arrived first. Her steps were sharp but unhurried. Dust still clung to the bottom of her boots, and a shallow cut ran along her jawline. She didn’t speak. Didn’t act like a soldier returning from a mission. She sat like a daughter returning home, laid her weapon against the side table, and poured herself tea. Isabella entered next. Her gait was quiet, even more than usual. She didn’t smile or flash her usual smirk. She took her seat, the same one she always preferred, and nodded once toward Lilith before pouring her drink. Then Seraphina. Flawless, composed, not a trace of wear or damage, but her shoes were gone. She stepped barefoot across the wooden floor and sat without reaching for tea. No one asked what happened. No one described what they had done. It wasn’t necessary. Lilith passed the cups one by one. No holograms were glowing beside them. No files. No reports. Just the warmth of porcelain, held with steady hands. For a few minutes, no one spoke. They didn’t stare. They didn’t retreat into silence. They were present. Lilith’s eyes moved toward the small panel near the table. The holopanel glowed softly. Three nodes were dark—faded into quiet gray. Their energy was gone. Their purpose, erased. Only one remained. It pulsed slowly. A faint beat. Barely noticeable. But steady. She reached forward and tapped it. The display shifted. A single cold symbol appeared—an angular mountain slope, with an eye carved near the peak. The final node. Lilith spoke softly. "The last one." Seraphina didn’t look up from her cup. "Hidden under a construction zone. Covered by a charity foundation and protected by false records and active weather cloaks. It’s old. Not mapped." Liliana leaned forward slightly, exhaling through her nose. "How many guards?" "Enough to be overconfident," Isabella said, her voice even. "But not enough to matter." Lilith poured herself another cup. "I’m going with you this time." None of them reacted with surprise. Seraphina set her cup down. "We assumed you would." Liliana gave a small nod. "We’ve been waiting." Isabella gave the faintest smile, not playful, but real. "It’s about time." Lilith reached beside the table and opened a slim black case. Inside, five silver rings rested against the velvet lining. They weren’t glowing. They didn’t buzz with energy or drip with magic. But the moment the lid opened, the room changed. Just slightly.

Chapter 237: I Don’t Need To Remind You Again, As You Will Not Be Alive To Repent

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