Chapter 447: Royal dagger.

Color returned to Almeida’s face. "Forgive me, I am usually in control of my emotions, but Erik has pushed me to my limits this time." He softly spoke as his eyes roamed around and fell on Anukin. "This one is Erik’s handbag, if that place exists then he must know."

"I know where it is too!" A high-pitched voice shouted from the side of the table. Everyone turned to look at Tonio, who was still paralyzed, sweating profusely under Zyra’s glare. "I know the co-ordinates at least." He added. "Spare me, and I will tell you everything."

Anukin swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Listen to me, not him. I...I helped Erik set up the perimeter defense at the Cradle! I know the exact location and how to override the defense system! But you have to promise me a full pardon! You can’t let Almeida rip my core out too!" He begged Zyra.

They were all thinking the same thing. Being imprisoned was better than dying. As long as they lived, they could always get another chance.

Zyra folded her arms, looking down at Anukin with a slow, dangerous smile. "Alright, you have yourself a deal."

Ivar’s eyes narrowed instantly, his jaw tightening as he glared at her. "You cannot be serious! You’re just going to let him walk after he conspired to murder us all?!"

Zyra slowly turned her head toward Ivar, her expressionless eyes glinting sharply. She offered him a wide, chilling grin_ the exact kind of smile a villain gives right before blowing up a city.

Without saying a single word, she reached into her coat and pulled out a dagger. The moment her fingers gripped the hilt, the metal groaned and expanded, instantly transforming into a spear!

Zyra hurled the spear forward_ but she never let go of it. With a slick twist of her wrist, she guided the weapon through the air like a lethal boomerang.

The spear zipped around the room in a dazzling zigzag pattern, plunging straight through the chest of every single rogue Somnivores. It darted past Anukin’s nose_ missing his forehead by a microscopic hair_ before zipping right back into Zyra’s open palm.

The entire tent fell into dead, horrified silence.

Standing around the table, everyone stared at Zyra in absolute disbelief. Humans and aliens alike looked like their brains had completely short-circuited.

Almeida, however, wasn’t looking at the dead bodies. His eyes were wide, glued entirely to the elastic spear in Zyra’s hand as it shrank back down into a dagger. His chest heaved with sudden emotion. He recognized that weapon instantly. Years ago, on the day a brave woman named Zena had saved his life, he had given her that exact royal blade as a token of eternal gratitude.

Before Almeida could speak, a cheerful chime rang inside Zyra’s head.

[Thank you for the fresh delivery of Somnivore cores, Host!] Beauty chirped, making a cartoonish cha-ching! sound as the cores vanished right out of the dead aliens’ chests. [These cores are high quality! Do you want me to apply them toward paying down your huge time-reversal debt?]

’Yes! Immediately!’ Zyra replied in her mind without a second thought.

[Wonderful!] Beauty giggled. [Your current debt has decreased by 60%! We can negotiate the interest rates later!]

’We’ll talk later,’ Zyra thought, shutting the System screen off.

She looked around the room. The diplomats, task force members, and alien delegates were all staring at her. Some looked at her with pure, jaw-dropping admiration, while others looked like they were ready to jump out the nearest exit to escape her.

Lady Valarie leaned over to Commander Spire, fanning herself frantically with a paper napkin. "Is it just me," she whispered loudly, "or has our sweet Divine Maiden become infinitely more scary?!"

Commander Spire swallowed hard, his neck stiff as a board. "Scary indeed, My Lady. Scary indeed."

Whispers shook the tent. Some eyes were averted when she looked in their direction. People were scared of her the same way they feared monsters.

Zyra couldn’t care less about their gossip and fear. She wiped a speck of dust off her blade and turned back to the table.

Solazo stepped forward, pointing a trembling finger at her weapon. "Where... where did you get that?! That is a Royal weapon from our home world. Only members of the inner royal house on our home planet are allowed to carry it."

"It was my mother’s," Zyra said simply, her tone softening just a fraction.

She turned her head to look directly at Almeida, holding onto the dagger like it could escape. Almeida was the only royal Orakun standing in the room, which technically meant the heirloom belonged to him.

Almeida looked at the dagger, then up at Zyra’s serious face. A warm, genuine laugh bubbled out of his chest, dissolving the tension in his shoulders.

"I gifted that blade to your mother with my own hands, Zyra," Almeida said softly, his eyes full of warmth. "It belongs to her. I am impressed to how good you can use it with no training."

Zyra gave him a small, respectful nod. Almeida really was a man of absolute integrity_ an alien who meant every single word he said. In a way, his noble, grounded nature reminded her a lot of Hunter.

Almeida sighed, stepping over Erik’s lifeless body. He reached down, picked up Erik’s pulsing white core, and held it out toward Zyra. "Here. You can use this to strengthen the protective veil. I am sure that Erik had loyalists back at home that will try to avenge him.... not that I will allow it."

Zyra took it. The moment her fingers touched the core it vanished into thin air like a magic trick.

[Can’t believe I missed one!] Beauty hissed unhappily.

A few human diplomats gasped out loud. "Where did it go?!" someone squeaked.

Zyra just shrugged casually, lifting her left arm and pointing to the shiny metal band on her wrist. "Spatial bracelet," she lied smoothly, giving Hunter a cheeky wink. "Very high-tech. Holds lots of stuff."

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a suppressed smile.

Zyra spun on her heel and planted her boots right in front of Anukin, who was sweating so hard he looked like he had just run a marathon while sitting down.

"Alright, Anukin," Zyra said, tapping her dagger against her palm. "Spill the coordinates. Right now. Unless you’d like your core to join my new core collection?"

"32 degrees North, 88 degrees to West." Anukin stammered out at top speed, his teeth chattering. "There is an underground silo between our side of the veil and human one. That’s the Hollow Cradle! I swear on my life."