The Eclipsed Bloom
Chapter 59: Zara wins

Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Zara wins

The silver-haired man slowly turned his head toward the general, his sharp eyes narrowing.

"General Blair," he said coldly, "something must have happened. That’s the only explanation. But let me say again what I said before—do not interfere with the affairs of the Holy Knights. You people only know how to use guns, but most demons, can kill a man who is fully armed before he even pulls the trigger."

As he spoke, his eyes gleamed gold, and a wave of divine aura surged from his body, causing the air in the room to tremble slightly.

General Blair immediately looked down, his expression respectful despite the sweat on his forehead.

"Yes, Sir Leslie. Don’t worry—we’re only concerned with civilian safety."

Leslie gave him a long, hard look before turning his gaze toward a man dressed in holy armor.

"Priest," he commanded, "send the knights to purge the stray demons. They’re starting to lose control and are manipulating civilians again."

The priest bowed his head. "Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it immediately." With that, he turned and left the conference room.

Leslie’s golden eyes swept across the table at the remaining members—men and women, some in military uniforms, some in robes of faith, others cloaked in secrecy.

"As for the Grand Meeting," Leslie said firmly, "I and the high priests of each nation will handle it. The rest of you, focus on protecting the human world. Do not meddle where you’re not prepared to tread."

No one dared to speak.

Leslie’s golden gaze swept to the far end of the table, where a man in a dark coat and slacks sat stiffly.

"And one more thing," Leslie said, his voice low but cutting, "Minister—stop trying to send signals into space or spread rumors about aliens. If they really find us, Earth will become nothing more than a playground for them. We’re not ready.**"

The minister stiffened under Leslie’s stare. Though his face remained composed, his legs trembled beneath the table. He lowered his head, gripping his knees tightly.

"Understood..." he murmured.

Leslie gave a final glance at the entire table before standing.

"That’s all. This meeting is adjourned. Send word to all nations—the High Priests are to gather in one hour for an emergency council."

No one dared to object. The tension lingered long after Leslie had vanished into golden light.

Minister Jack stormed out of the building, his face a mask of fury. As soon as he got into the backseat of his armored car, he slammed the door shut and yanked out his phone. The driver flinched at the sudden burst of anger behind him.

Jack dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Luke, that fucking bastard—who the hell does he think he is? Just because he has power, he orders us around like dogs!" His voice was low but venomous, every word seething with frustration. "I swear, one day, I’ll put a bullet in his—"

Before he could finish, a distorted voice answered on the other end. It was impossible to tell if it belonged to a man or a woman—mechanically altered, cold and sharp.

"Jack. Stop spouting bullshit." The voice cut him off like a knife. "You know the Holy Knights can hear thoughts when they activate their field. If one of them is scanning right now—you’re dead."

Jack froze, his rage instantly replaced with dread. He turned his head and scanned the street through the tinted windows—cars passing, lights glowing, but no golden eyes, no glint of armor.

He sighed, relieved. "Damn it... don’t scare me like that."

His voice lowered to a whisper, all the bravado gone. "I’m cutting the call. We’ll talk when I get back."

He hung up, hand trembling slightly, and leaned back into his seat.

A few hours away from California — Las Vegas

In a dim, shadow-laced alleyway behind a worn-out casino, two figures in sleek black knight uniforms stood still, their presence barely noticeable amid the neon glow bleeding into the alley.

One of them, leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, sighed and crossed his arms lazily.

"Bro, seriously... can’t we just go in, grab the guy, and be done with it? If he’s possessed by a demon, what’s the point of all this creeping around?" he muttered, tapping his boot against the ground.

The second knight, more composed, adjusted the strap of his shoulder guard and shot him a sharp look.

"Are you out of your mind?" he hissed. "We can’t just snatch someone out of their home without a clean reason. You think we’re invisible to the public? One nosey reporter sees us, and it’s a PR nightmare. You do remember what happened in Chicago, right?"

The first knight grumbled but didn’t argue further.

Suddenly, the composed knight raised a hand, eyes narrowing as his gaze locked on the front door of a quiet, run-down house across the street.

A silhouette moved behind the curtain. Then the door creaked open.

"The target’s here," he whispered. His fingers moved swiftly to the hilt of the dagger strapped to his leg. "Get ready. No mistakes."

The tension thickened instantly. The alley went silent—just the hum of distant traffic and a flickering streetlamp overhead.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zara narrowed her eyes, studying Grace’s movements carefully. The girl’s strikes were aggressive—strong, wide, and fast—but slightly reckless. Then she saw it.

As Grace raised her oversized sword overhead for another flashy slash, Zara stepped forward, her blade gleaming under the sunlight.

Clang!

Zara’s strike hit the hilt with perfect precision. The impact disarmed Grace in a flash—her sword clattered to the ground, kicking up a puff of dust.

The crowd gasped.

Zara calmly sheathed her sword and flashed a quiet grin, watching Grace stare at her empty hands in stunned silence.

Grace’s wide eyes lifted to meet hers. Shock. Embarrassment. Maybe even awe.

From the sidelines, Nyssa raised an eyebrow and smacked her lips.

"Ooh... Lucien is going to love this," she whispered with dry amusement.

Clair and Lucy both looked stunned, leaning forward, whispering rapidly to each other. Meanwhile, Rose’s smirk deepened as she leaned in toward Lilith—who was visibly tense, her fists clenched.

"She won the duel," Rose teased sweetly. "Guess that blood oath comes into play now... Should we start calling Grace Zara’s wife already?"

Lilith didn’t answer. Her jaw tightened, her expression unreadable—but her silver eyes flared dangerously.

Just as Zara turned to walk down the steps of the dueling platform, a sharp sting ran through her finger.

"Ah—!" She flinched and looked down.

A faint red ring-like mark had formed on her index finger—glowing slightly, pulsing like it had its own heartbeat.

Zara’s eyes widened.

Across the field, Grace clutched her hand in confusion. Her gaze met Zara’s once more—and there, on her finger, was the same red ring-shaped mark.