Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

"With that being said, the others will move with you. All you have to do is tell them the location of their cores. Remember, it has to be a one-shot kill," Greg declared, his voice unwavering. The seriousness in his tone left no room for negotiation. The meeting was adjourned in spirit, even if bodies still filled the room.

"Nice. Seems we'll be taking action soon enough. I can't wait to add them to my collection," Cain said, a sly, twisted smile curling across his lips. His voice dripped with anticipation, the idea of new corpses for his undead army clearly exhilarating him.

"Time is of the essence. It's best you all start moving out now. Odin, come with me," Greg added, already standing up.

Before he could take more than a step, Brian spoke up—his voice hesitant.

"Nemesis..."

Greg paused, turning halfway. "Yes?"

Brian's eyes were conflicted. "Elizabeth… the current situation is far too dangerous. Is there any chance she could join us?" His words were laced with tension, as if the weight of his heart had finally become too heavy to carry alone.

Greg stared at him silently for a beat before responding.

"Well, if you can convince the empress of the Grey Empire to abandon her people, I have no problem with that."

Brian pressed further, his voice barely a whisper. "Can't her people also be—"

"Don't cross the line, Brian," Greg interrupted sharply, his eyes cold. "Our priority is the players from our world, not the natives of this one."

With that final word, he turned and left.

Brian stood there, biting back a retort. The bitterness in his chest was undeniable, but so was the guilt. He had no right to protest—not after what happened.

After the emperor's death at Greg's hands, the empire had fallen into chaos. The nobles, seeking stability, chose to hold a contest of succession. Elizabeth, backed in secret by Marquis Alexander, rose through the political carnage. She faced fierce opposition from her siblings, each of whom claimed legitimacy. But in the end, with strategy, strength, and sheer determination, she emerged victorious. And with her coronation, she became the youngest empress in the history of the Grey Empire.

Brian knew the cost of her rise. He knew he had dragged her into this storm—and now, all he could do was watch from afar.

"It's alright," came a voice beside him.

To his surprise, it was Cain.

"Your actions were understandable. The desire to protect someone you love, to risk anything for their safety... I know that feeling all too well."

Brian blinked, caught off guard by Cain's sudden softness.

"Since when did you know a thing or two about love?" Aaron quipped from across the room, eyebrow raised as he made his way toward the door.

Cain said nothing, turning quietly to leave.

---

Up in the trees, Greg waited, perched on a thick branch like a sentinel. His gaze swept the land below, calculating, unshaken.

"You're here," he said, not needing to look to know who had approached.

"Yes. What do you want?" Odin replied, floating up beside him.

"Approve the permission that just appeared on your screen," Greg instructed without delay.

"What permission...?" Odin started—then stopped as a system prompt appeared before him.

> [Share your talent with Nemesis?]

[Y/N]

Odin blinked in disbelief. "You're asking for access to my talent? Is there a downside to this? What happens to me if I say yes?"

"There's no drawback," Greg said, voice calm. "You keep your talent as is. I'll gain access to it too. That's all."

Odin frowned, still skeptical—but the curiosity was too strong. In the end, he tapped [Yes].

Golden light shimmered across Greg's eyes. He had acquired Observer—Odin's most prized skill. A potent talent capable of locating weaknesses, identifying lies, and revealing the truth hidden beneath layers of illusion.

Odin, on the other hand, received nothing. Greg hadn't shared his talent in return.

"Thank you, Odin," Greg said, hopping off the branch. "Where are you going?" Odin asked.

"To test this ability… and take down as many shadow slaves as I can. Let the others know it's time to move. Save as many players as possible."

Wings of dark energy flared from his back, scattering loose leaves into the wind. With one mighty flap, he took off, soaring into the skies like a force of nature.

Odin grinned.

"Looks like he wants to give my power a test drive," he muttered, pride glowing in his voice.

---

Elsewhere, in a secluded villa surrounded by magical wards and patrolled by unseen forces, Kate sat alone in a room that resembled a luxurious prison. There were no guards posted at her door. No chains held her in place. But she knew better. She wasn't a prisoner of walls—she was a prisoner of presence.

Thirteen absolute conceptors roamed this villa.

Even with her assassin training, even with her willpower, she knew escape was impossible. Not without help.

"Knock knock."

The sound was familiar.

"Arthur, go away," Kate groaned, not even lifting her eyes from the book in her hands. His daily visits had grown tiresome.

"Come now, don't be like that. You need someone to talk to. Isolation isn't healthy, even for a killer."

"I'm a trained assassin. I've lived alone in darkness longer than you can imagine."

"Not forever. You'll see how vital conversation becomes when time means nothing," Arthur said. "Anyway, I've got news. It's about your father."

That got her attention. Kate looked up.

"What about him?"

"Open the door and I'll tell you," Arthur said smugly, knowing he had baited the hook.

"Forget it then. I'm not interested anymore," she shot back, her tone flat.

Arthur groaned, banging his head lightly against the door. "You...! Sigh. You're no fun."

"Arthur, there you are," another voice called out.

Tunde approached, arms crossed.

"Stop harassing the girl. We have more urgent matters to attend to."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Tunde, what now?"

"We need to talk. It's about our fallen friends."

With a final sigh, Arthur relented and walked away—though not before calling over his shoulder, "Don't worry, Kate. I'll be back!"

---

Inside the grand chamber, the twelve remaining conceptors stood around a long obsidian table. The air was heavy with unspoken suspicion. Everyone had gathered for a single purpose.

Daniel stood at the head.

"Arthur," he said flatly. "Your perverted antics haven't faded with time, I see."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I was checking on her. She's vital to our future. We need her sharp and stable if we plan to make use of her father."

No one bought it, but no one argued.

"Back to business," Daniel continued, his face solemn. "I've identified who killed our comrades."

Silence fell over the room like a guillotine. Postures stiffened. The air tensed.

"And just as we suspected..." Daniel said slowly.

"It was Sabbah."

A few gasps broke the silence.

"But that's not all." Daniel's gaze swept over each of them.

"Greg—the one we swore to protect—is his accomplice."

The silence turned deadly.

This revelation didn't just change the game.

It flipped the entire board.