Sovereign of the Ashes

“Hehehe... This Black Nightmare Potion will help heal your wounds,” Nergal explained.

“Relax, I’ve no intention of harming you. You did well. I’d like to borrow your strength again next time,” the black mage added with a chuckle.

His laughter was as grating and unsettling as ever.

The Iron Armor Overlord glanced at the potion in his hand and replied, “I doubt many overlords in the surrounding star domains would dare drink a potion gifted by Master Nergal without hesitation...”

He paused, then continued, “However, I trust that Master Nergal would not harm me.”

With that, he removed his faceplate and downed the potion in one gulp.

Though it appeared to be a bubbling liquid, the moment it was uncorked, it dissolved into a wisp of black mist that flowed straight into his mouth and nose.

From his aura, voice, and demeanor, the Iron Armor Overlord seemed surprisingly young.

His response only made Nergal’s laughter ring out even more sharply.

Moments later, a spatial vortex opened behind him. Drawn by the pull of summoning laws, the Iron Armor Overlord returned to his original coordinates.

True to the saying that a newborn calf did not fear a tiger, he showed no concern at all for the Seventh Pharaoh’s parting threat.

After he left, Nergal turned to settle the final payment with the Holy King of Drifting Clouds, who still looked uneasy.

However, Nergal deducted two hundred million soul essences from its share.

They had failed to eliminate the Seventh Pharaoh, so by the terms of their contract, Nergal had not violated the agreement.

“Hehehe... in Magus World, we follow the principle of equivalent exchange. You don’t have a problem with that, right?” Nergal asked with a grin.

The Holy King of Drifting Clouds was not about to challenge him unless it had no other choice.

After a glance at the mountain of Soul Essences Nergal had produced, it spread its massive white wings and swept the entire pile away into somewhere.

With a piercing cry, the Holy King of Drifting Clouds shot toward the summoning portal and disappeared in an instant.

Nergal watched the creature go with a faint smile before shifting his gaze to the Meatball Overlord.

The creature was there watching when Nergal deducted the Holy King of Drifting Clouds’ payment.

An uneasy feeling had already begun to creep in.

And sure enough... after handing over 1.5 billion top-grade soul essences, Nergal dismissed the Meatball Overlord with a glance!

Under Nergal’s cold gaze, the creature’s anger flared immediately.

It did not really care about the missing five hundred million soul essences—but the Purple Heart, which had been agreed upon beforehand, was something it absolutely needed.

It was for that very item the creature had answered Nergal’s summons, even at the cost of offending the Pharaoh of the Amenkha Empire.

If it returned with nothing but a pile of soul essences, this entire trip would have been pointless.

“Master Nergal... have you forgotten something?” the Meatball Overlord asked.

“What have I forgotten?” Nergal replied, lifting his gaze.

At the same time, the Fanged Evil Dragon and Valter on its back subtly shifted their stance.

Valter’s dragon lance, still dripping with the black blood of an overlord, angled ever so slightly toward the Meatball Overlord.

Faced with that icy response, the creature found itself at a loss for words.

In truth, when it came to raw strength, the group Nergal had assembled to hunt the Seventh Pharaoh was not much weaker than the force Bev had used against the Eighth Pharaoh.

The real problem was unity.

Aside from the Iron Armor Overlord—straightforward by nature and willing to risk his life just to push his limits—the others, like the Holy King of Drifting Clouds and the Meatball Overlord, were constantly calculating their every move.

If they had truly gone all out from the beginning to assist Nergal, perhaps the Seventh Pharaoh might not have escaped!

Then again, forces gathered through summoning contracts and promises of profit were never reliable.

When Bev’s side had ambushed the Eighth Pharaoh, things had been different.

Beyond careful planning, nearly all the participants had been native overlords of the Magus Civilization.

They fought with complete coordination, allowing them to carry out the ambush at a relatively low cost. The Eighth Pharaoh had not even managed to send out a distress signal before being killed.

This overlord clash was far less intense than the previous one, yet even so, Nergal and his group had paid a heavy price.

Under Nergal’s cold gaze, the Meatball Overlord nearly gave in to the urge to lash out at him.

But with Nergal’s strength far above its own, and two overlord-level beings from the Magus Civilization watching him from the sidelines, it had no choice but to suppress its anger.

The MeatballOverlord had not come out of the battle unscathed either. Its round body was covered in handprints and deep gashes.

Picking a fight with Nergal now would be nothing short of foolish.

It had already offended the Amenkha Empire. If it also fell out with the Magus Civilization, its future would be anything but smooth.

Both forces were far beyond what it could afford to provoke, even as an early-stage Rank Eight.

This was the difference between an overlord from a large-sized world and one from a top-tier civilization.

No matter how arrogant such an Overlord might be, they would still have to lower their head in the face of a top-tier civilization’s war machine.

Its silence spoke volumes.

Seeing this, the chill in Nergal’s expression eased slightly.

He casually drifted closer and patted the Meatball Overlord on the shoulder with his gaunt hand.

“Heh... didn’t you say five hundred million soul essences would be enough? I’m giving you one and a half billion! You should learn to be content.”

Was this really a physically frail soul overmage of the Magus Civilization?

At this range, a strike from the Meatball Overlord would likely deal Nergal serious injury.

And yet, faced with this infamous Rank Eight black mage, who could still smile so easily, its body trembled slightly, and it did nothing.

It did not even bring up the Purple Heart again.

After putting away the mountain of soul essences, the Meatball Overlord silently drifted toward the summoning circle.

“I hope we’ll have the chance to work together again, Platty,” Nergal said, calling it by its true name.

With a wave of his staff, he sent the Meatball Overlord on its way.

The spatial fluctuations gradually settled.

Only the chaotic traces of law power and the ravaged battlefield remained as silent witnesses to the overlord-level melee that had just taken place.