Bonded Summoner

Book 9. Chapter 23: Zhuge Liang - Traps within Traps

Zhuge Liang slowly swept his feather fan through the cool, sterile air of the Sector Council amphitheater, his dark eyes tracking the micro-expressions of a thousand Tier 3 nobles.

He didn't care about the words echoing from the central podium at the bottom of the steps. Words were just wind. He cared about where the wind was blowing.

Currently, it was blowing toward a slaughter.

Zhuge’s turned to look behind him and upward, past the squabbling bureaucrats, to the highest, most opulent rings of the amphitheater. They were entirely empty. The Tier 4 Nobles–the true apex predators of the Sector–were absent, busy fighting the cosmic fronts of the multiversal war, leaving the daily administration of the Sector Council to the Tier 3 establishment and a handful of ambitious Tier 2 upstarts. And of course, his Brother Guan Yu and Zhang Fei were sitting next to him, with the other members of the Accord.

“The resolution stands,” Administrator Kintrel’s voice tolled, resonating with absolute, impassive authority and bringing Zhuge’s attention back to the front. The Administrator was less a man and more a manifestation of crystalline law, hovering above the central dais. “The First Stage of Sector 87’s War Trial shall execute as a Group Elimination event. A grand theater of war. All participating worlds and their vanguard forces will deploy simultaneously into the contested zone.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the lower seating tiers.

Zhuge Liang snapped his fan shut, the sharp thwack drawing a brief, sideways glance from Marcus Aurelius seated two rows down.

A secure, heavily encrypted mental link pulsed between the Accord noble members present.

“A chaotic melee,” Ramses muttered across the telepathic connection, his regal tone laced with the immortal disdain of an ancient pharaoh. “A beggar's brawl in the mud. True kings conquer where the sun may witness their glory. This format is but an invitation for jackals to hide their knives in the reeds.”“Hah! You look at it the wrong way, Brother Ramses!” Zhang Fei’s boisterous voice boomed back across the link, vibrating with bloodlust. “What better place to show off a golden army than a field already packed with thousands of eyes to witness it? Let the jackals hide! A crowded battlefield just means the grand audience is already gathered for us–and more importantly, it means I do not have to aim! More enemies to crush in one swing!”Ramses paused, the golden phantom of the pharaoh seeming to actually consider the meathead's logic. “Put that way... I suppose a grand stage does require a grand audience,” Ramses conceded, a dark amusement threading through his mental voice. “Very well. I only hope I am afforded a safe distance to watch you work, Brother. I have no desire to be caught in your aimless crushing.”

Zhuge Liang kept his expression placid, but his mind instantly ran thousands of tactical simulations. In early War Trials, every-man-for-himself–or every world–was the primary choice. But now that the natives had been through many more conflicts and were forced to face the bigger picture, Group Elimination was an easy decision.

And of course, the Council agreed to it because Alliance forces often had better chances. Without betrayal considered, Alliance teams performed better by shoring up each other’s weaknesses.

But the betrayers loved it for a different reason. In a Group Elimination, a hidden enemy often could hide behind ‘allied’ forces, funneling monster waves into their flanks while they were pinned down and refusing to assist. A non-direct violation of Alliance protocol, but one that could easily pass in a questioning.

He scanned the faces of the nobles who had pushed the hardest for the format. A hulking, armored Count who ruled a cluster of fortress worlds. And a gaunt, hollow-eyed Baron who specialized in mass-producing enslaved beasts. They were celebrating the vote, their auras practically trembling with greedy anticipation.

The betrayers are hungry, Zhuge noted coldly. They have drawn the map to favor the shadows.

“Processing the next docket item,” Kintrel announced, the grand holographic display shifting behind him with mechanical precision. “The formal petition by the Accord to elevate Baron Jake Hart of Hearthtribe to the rank of Count, acknowledging his meritorious service of defeating an enemy Divine Aspirant and collecting evidence that resulted in the systemic purging of dozens of Divine betrayers.”

The atmosphere in the room instantly soured. Kintrel paused, his stern gaze sweeping over the assembled representatives. “To begin, I will open the floor to general discussion on this matter. I expect everyone to be considerate and yield the floor naturally. If you devolve into a shouting match, I will not hesitate to use the gavel and move to strict mediation. You may begin discussion.”

Zhuge Liang leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. The Accord faction–Guan Yu, Marcus, Ramses, Cyrus, and their allies–sat perfectly straight, projecting absolute unity. But they were a minority in this Sector, and the Divine present were all hooded at this point.

The opposition didn't wait a single breath before launching their assault.

“I object on the grounds of strict Framework Law,” a crystalline humanoid stated, rising from what Zhuge would call the central bureaucratic bloc. His voice ground together like crushed glass. “To hold a Count's title and the associated Sector authority, the Guildmaster must possess a verified Tier 3 homeworld. Hearthtribe's capital world, Highlands, is firmly Tier 2. Furthermore, this supposed leader has not deigned to project his presence into a single Council hearing! How can we grant sovereignty to a phantom who disrespects his peers with his constant absence?”

“A manufactured grievance,” Cyrus the Great countered smoothly from the Accord benches, his imperial presence cutting through the murmurs. “It was this very Council that weaponized his Grace Period, legally barring him from these chambers under the guise of preventing 'undue political influence' while he found his bearings. You locked the doors, and now you complain that he does not enter. Furthermore, as a newly-minted Noble Tier 2 native actively pacifying our borders, he lacks the systemic infrastructure and personal capability to project his mind across the Sector on his own. His actions speak louder than holographic attendance, actively participating in five worlds’ conflicts as we speak.”

“Do they?” a gilded, multi-armed merchant sneered from the upper tiers, representing what Zhuge would call the crab-bucketers. The group would rather see Lord Hart, or anyone else, never rise simply because it meant there was one less place for themselves. “Or does it just mean he is siphoning Sector-Level support subsidies from the rest of us to fund an unsustainable, rapid expansion? We cannot dilute the Sector's CP dividends for a native upstart who hasn't even influenced the true conflict of this Sector!”

The man would have a point–normally. The CP dividends for the Sector were funneled to the noble rank of Count and above to stabilize the persistent warfronts. Millions of CP could be spent in a single day, only to slow the enemy’s advance in a zone for but a few hours. It was necessary, as the loss of a single Tier 3 world was worth more than ten of the previous Tier. One may equate a single zone, or continent lost, to an entire world.

Guan Yu stood up, his heavy, martial aura instantly pressing down on the squabbling merchants. He swept his intense gaze across the opposition.

“Do not diminish this man's merit,” the burgeoning demi-god of War rumbled. “Hearthtribe and its immediate allies–the Warrior Brotherhood, the Sons of Rome, and the Love and Justice Guild–currently hold over twenty sovereign worlds, including more than one just on the cusp of the Third Tier. He personally defeated a Divine Aspirant and over a dozen enemy Divine Entities with his party. He and his guild have maintained a flawless, one-hundred-percent Alliance win rate across every Tartarus front they have engaged. His heroism and pacification efforts more than cover the administrative gap.”

“Exactly!” a new voice cut in, sharp and desperate.

Zhuge Liang’s eyes locked onto the speaker. It was the gaunt, beast-taming Baron. Even as a projection, the man’s aura felt subtly wrong, stained with the specific, terrified desperation of a man whose illicit supply chains had just been violently severed by Hearthtribe's expansion and the recent Radiant Glory upheaval.

“A one-hundred-percent win rate!” the gaunt Baron shouted, pointing a trembling finger toward the Accord bloc. “Twenty worlds claimed by a Guildmaster who didn't even exist a few years ago, and numerous defeated Divine Entities? Then, countless research advantages earned in just a few years, the likes of which we have never seen? Does that sound like the organic rise of a native Tier 0 from Earth? Because to me, it sounds like a story this Council has heard before.”

The gaunt Baron looked to the crab-bucketers in the upper tiers, rallying their greed.

“We have all heard rumors of it happening in other Frontier Sectors. Some 'hero' is paraded around the Council, hailed as a native prodigy. Only for us to later learn it was some Divine incarnation or a juiced-up secret bastard of a God, stealing native territory and manipulating the Framework for their pantheon's amusement! This is fishy no matter what you call it. We need reassurance!”

The Baron slammed his fist against a podium he had manifested in front of his bench for this purpose alone. “I petition for a formal Deep System Audit! I accuse Odin and Hestia of funneling Tier 3 magical technology and illicit potential-improving treasures to artificially engineer a Ringer! And since this phantom seeks the public, sovereign authority of a Count, this audit must be fully public! A public position demands absolute public transparency!”

The amphitheater erupted, not just in shouts, but in genuine, palpable outrage.

Cyrus the Great stood, his aura flaring in warning. “Preposterous. A Champion's secrets and hidden foundations are their greatest shield against Tartarus. To bare his Destiny Footprint to the entire Sector is to hand the enemy the blade to cut his throat.”

“If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear!” the armored Count bellowed back, sensing blood in the water.

Zhuge Liang remained perfectly still, feeling the encrypted Accord mental link flare to life again.

“We can withdraw the Count petition,” Cyrus murmured across the connection, his tone pragmatic. “If we pull him back to Baron, the audit loses its legal foundation. The Administrator will be forced to dismiss it, for now. We can protect his secrets and wait for a better opening.”

Ramses added, a distinctly playful sneer threading through his mental voice. “I would normally sooner swallow the sands of the Nile than agree with a soul forged in Persia, yet Cyrus speaks true. Even restricted to a Baron's rank, the boy retains enough sovereignty to carve his own path in the War Trial. Let that armored swine attempt to order him into a slaughter, should he be lucky enough to get the chance; a true king does not march to the drum of a lesser man.”

Zhuge Liang slowly opened his feather fan, his eyes tracing the feverish, desperate posture of the gaunt Baron, and the hungry eyes of the armored Count before looking over the rest of the Council. Even without this audit situation, he thought it would be a challenge to push through the motion for Lord Jake Hart to become a Count at this time.

The crab-bucketers were still greedy. The law-abiders would cling to their Tier 3 technicality. The Accord, and the true heroes among the natives who wanted more heroes among them, were still outnumbered. If Kintrel called the vote for the Count title right now, the Accord would lose by a razor-thin margin. Zhuge now saw a path to make sure this went through.

“No,” Zhuge Liang sent back, his mental voice calm and absolute. “A dragon cannot govern the skies if it never leaves the river. My pupil has operated in the shadows for long enough. To lead a Territory that stands the test of time, he must become the sun that casts those shadows.”

Beside him, Guan Yu stroked his long beard, his heavy aura humming in profound agreement. “The Sleeping Dragon speaks truly. There comes a time in every dynasty when the banner must be planted in the soil for all the Sector to see. I did it when I shattered the Asura Kings to claim the Vajra Gates of Yamadvara and forge my Territory. The void child is ready to do it here.”

Guan Yu’s mental voice lowered, carrying the dense, unyielding weight of a Tier 4 Demigod, an Aspirant who walked the line between mortal Noble and the Divine. “Furthermore, we do not stand on this battlefield blind and alone. I spoke with Athena and the Origin Flame before the Earth integrations began, and I have watched the All-Father move his pieces since. Odin does not overextend, and Hestia does not anchor a faulty foundation. If they allowed the void child's destiny to grow this vast, they have already forged the shield to protect it. I trust their stratagem. Allow them to trigger the audit.”

“Let them look!” Zhang Fei agreed. “Let these soft-bellied merchants see the monster they're trying to cage!”

Zhuge Liang snapped his fan shut. The decision was made. Between the necessity of planting Lord Hart's banner and Guan Yu's absolute faith in the All-Father and Origin Flame's hidden machinations, the Accord was united. By taking this hit head-on, no one in this Sector would ever be able to question Lord Hart's legitimacy again.

Before Administrator Kintrel could move to mediate the shouting match, Zhuge Liang stood up, opening his feather fan with a smooth, practiced motion. The chamber quieted. Even the oldest nobles knew better than to interrupt the Sleeping Dragon when he chose to speak.

“Esteemed Council,” Zhuge Liang's voice carried perfectly, laced with the tranquil flow of a serene river as he paced slowly, waving his fan. “Harmony cannot exist without acknowledging all truths beneath Heaven. The rules rightly demand a Tier 3 foundation, which Highlands and Hearthtribe currently lack. And this honored body wisely fears handing permanent administrative power to a Guildmaster whose foundation is built in the shadows. Therefore, I offer a compromise that satisfies all parties.”

Zhuge Liang paused, letting the silence stretch, setting the hook.

“The Accord will submit Guildmaster Jake Hart to this highly irregular, public Deep System Audit. However, if the Ledger verifies his merit and proves he and his guild operates within the strict bounds of the Framework, this Council must bind itself to an agreement today: Jake Hart will immediately be elevated to the status of an Active Provisional Count, bypassing any further votes, delays, or political maneuvering before the War Trial.”

He turned to look directly at the hulking, armored Count.

“He will be granted the administrative sub-nodes to manage his newly acquired worlds, but no access to the precious CP dividends. However, to solidify the title permanently, Hearthtribe must not only survive the upcoming first stage of the Group Elimination War Trial, but they must triumph. If they fail or are eliminated by the enemy, the title is revoked.”

“If you wish to strip away his secrets today, you must grant him his rightful banner in return.”

The room practically vibrated as the factions did the math.

The gaunt Baron and the armored Count exchanged a quick, hungry glance. Blinded by their hubris, they assumed their plot was foolproof. They were unaware of Odin’s machinations, which even Zhuge wasn’t completely privy to, but believed in just as strongly as his Brother Guan Yu.

The enemy thought they were about to publicly ruin him, stripping away his defenses and proving his illegitimacy in one fell swoop. Handing him a provisional title he would lose anyway seemed like a pitifully small concession.

Out loud, the multi-armed merchant called out, “Seconded!”

“Seconded,” the armored Count rumbled with a cruel smirk.

Voting glyphs cascaded across the amphitheater. The sheer terror of Jake's unprecedented success had pushed the neutral and greedy parties right into the betrayer's hands, all of them eager to see the anomaly laid bare.

“The petition and its binding provisional clauses meet the required threshold,” Administrator Kintrel’s voice tolled, his crystalline form pulsing with systemic light. “Initiating Deep Framework Audit on Guildmaster Jake Hart. Focus parameters: External Divine Intervention and Illicit Technological Transfers.”

The amphitheater fell into a suffocating, dead silence.

Zhuge Liang watched the central dais. This was the true horror of a Deep System Audit. It wasn't merely a reading of transaction logs; it was an unshielded broadcasting of an Adventurer's Destiny Footprint and Earned Potential.

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In the Great Game, a Noble's exact Potential was their most closely guarded secret. If an enemy knew the precise weight and contours of your Destiny, they didn't need to fight you. A skilled Diviner could use that exact numerical footprint as a sympathetic link to scry your weaknesses, lay curses across the void, or simply slide those coordinates across the table to a Tartarus hit squad.

The central dais flared with glyphs. The Framework manifested the sheer, metaphysical weight of Lord Hart's accumulated Merit into the amphitheater. On the surface, the glowing ledgers offered only vague summaries. Yet to the veteran politicians and diviners of the Alliance, it was like handing a master accountant a rival faction's financial portfolio. With a few analytical spells and some basic cross-referencing, a skilled eye could easily extrapolate exactly how a force operated.

If they only audited Hearthtribe as a guild, the grand, hidden formula they would uncover was simply to build a unified force of harem parties with elite warrior women. They would fight fearlessly on the front lines as they craft and do charity work, besides. Zhuge found a trace of dry amusement in that. Let the Sector try to replicate it.

The true danger lay in Clan Hart's personal metrics. If left without the very shield Brother Guan Yu had placed his faith in, these ancient beings could reverse-engineer Jake’s exact combat capabilities and foundational limits.

Still, Zhuge had to afford Kintrel a profound measure of respect. While the rest of the council representatives were quietly recording the holographic data to painstakingly decipher in their own strongholds later, the celestial adjudicator was reading and decoding the complex metaphysical ledgers in real time.

The air in the room had grown heavy.

The golden runes cascaded, calculating the raw, untaxed Potential Jake had wrested from the jaws of Tartarus. During Earth’s Trial, the Clash of Champions and defeat of an Enforcer on Highlands as well as the impossible Dungeon Raid. The brutal Fortress Assault of Ariminum, and his clashes with Divine Entities upon The Burning Steps. It calculated the massive karmic and meritorious weight of executing a Divine Aspirant.

When the final summary numbers crystallized in the air above the dais, the silence in the room somehow grew even deeper.

It wasn't just high. It was an absurdity seen only in heroes like Zhuge’s Brother, Guan Yu.

The system’s evaluation of his mythic gear and accumulated treasures alone rivaled the ancestral vaults of half the Tier 3 Nobles in the room combined. But his raw Destiny and Earned Potential were what truly terrified them.

The numbers didn't just eclipse their most decorated elites; they eclipsed the Nobles themselves. Many of the crab-bucketers were commanders and administrators who relied on armies or elite parties for their strength. The Destiny footprint glowing before them wasn't that of a lucky Baron or a desk-bound general; it was the dense, suffocating gravity of an apex predator.

The gaunt Baron stared up at the glowing numbers, his jaw slack, the triumphant sneer completely wiped from his face. The armored Count gripped the edge of his podium so hard the projected stone cracked. They had demanded the audit, hoping to expose a fragile, artificially juiced proxy. Instead, they had just forced the Framework to legally verify that a monster was sitting at their table.

Zhuge Liang slowly fanned himself. He knew half the crab-bucketers in the room were already mentally calculating the coordinates to sell to Tartarus or cast their own divinations.

But Zhuge Liang didn't feel a shred of worry. A slow, deeply satisfied smile spread behind his feathers. He had an idea before, but now he finally understood the absolute, terrifying brilliance of the All-Father's trap.

A Mystery was a living, fragile thing. Zhuge knew that firsthand; months ago, when the Accord and Hearthtribe had begun to unravel the truth of Lord Hart's foundation thanks to the Nameless Monk, the weight of their knowing had strained the protective seal hiding him. Truth was a heavy burden that cracked the ice.

But ignorance? Ignorance on this scale was an impenetrable fortress.

By forcing the Council to look at the sheer, impossible scale of the anomaly without giving them a single thread to unravel it, Odin would create a conceptual paradox. A thousand Tier 3 Nobles were now intensely, desperately focused on a secret they couldn't comprehend.

And Zhuge’s gaze went up to the cowled Divine audience. Their curiosity would be insatiable, and it would drive them mad. They would wonder, just how did Hestia and Odin produce such a powerful Ringer, with so much earned potential? How could they repeat this? It was the perfect plot.

Their thwarted divinations, their burning curiosity, their blind, greedy grasping at the heavens–it wouldn't pierce the Void. It would feed it. Every time an enemy diviner tried to cast their methods, whatever they might be, against Lord Hart's exposed Destiny and failed, the backlash of their ignorance would weave another layer of conceptual armor of Mystery around the void child's soul. The Nidhogg scale and the Void didn't just hide the truth; they devoured the questions.

Of course, Odin’s plan hinged on him hiding the truth during this Audit. Zhuge waited patiently to see how this played out. The transcript kept going backward, showing several other major purchases and awards of Mythic Grade equipment, but the merit matched perfectly–Hestia and the Celtic Divine, Echidna, and Bastet were squeaky clean. Clan Hart had paid the iron price for every ounce of their power earned from the enemy.

Then, the transcript hit Earth’s Tutorial, along with Jake’s original initiation. Then all hell broke loose.

The pristine golden text suddenly fractured. Lines of data redacted themselves in real-time. The Ledger threw up massive anomaly warnings–a mangled statue, an unidentified high-tier draconic-fox signature entirely out of place for a Tier 0 world, and a massive spike in localized destiny.

“There!” the gaunt Baron shouted, practically vibrating with vindication. “Earth is a Neutral Zone! It is bound by the Non-Interference Pact! Yet the Ledger clearly shows a massive Divine Boon was triggered upon his recruitment, alongside an unregistered entity! Odin gave a native of a neutral zone an unearned, illicit advantage!”

Up in the Accord seating area, a hooded figure slowly stood. Odin pulled back his cowl, revealing his scarred, weather-beaten face and his single, piercing eye.

“Accusing the All-Father of petty smuggling to win a frontier skirmish?” Odin chuckled. “How refreshingly blind, Baron.”

Odin tapped the butt of Gungnir against the stone floor. With a sharp crack of displaced space and a brief, blinding flash of bifrost-hued light, the All-Father vanished from the stands, teleporting instantly to materialize before the Administrator's dais.

Before Kintrel could speak, Tyr appeared next to him in a similar flash of light, his face carved from stern, unyielding marble. As a God of Law and Justice, Tyr’s presence officially bound the interrogation to absolute Framework truth.

“Lord Odin,” Tyr spoke, his voice carrying the weight of a judge's gavel. “You stand accused of violating the Earth Non-Interference Pact by granting an illicit boon and orchestrating a coercive recruitment. Explain the anomalies in the transcript.”

“The Pact forbids coercive recruitment, and the Framework rules disallow funneling of unearned power to sway a person's or world's destiny,” Odin said smoothly, leaning on his spear. “I did neither.”

Odin pointed at the massive, scrolling Ledger. “The Norns weave a complex tapestry, Administrator. Read the systemic accounting. Yes, a boon was granted. But the Framework demands balance. Look at the difficulty multiplier of his specific Tutorial and Trial instance. It was astronomical. The 'advantage' he received was paid for entirely in advance by the sheer, unadulterated hell Tartarus put him through. The game demanded its toll in blood.”

Kintrel’s crystalline eyes flared, processing the data. “Verification complete. The localized difficulty of the initiate's Ledger and Trial was scaled proportionately to offset the initial boon, whatever it might have been. The Ledger is mathematically balanced.”

“Balanced?” the gaunt Baron spat, slamming a hand against his podium. “Look at the secondary anomaly! The mangled statue. The Ledger clearly identifies a high-tier, extra-dimensional soul signature bound within it. A Tier 3 draconic... demonic... whatever that is!” He waved his finger, harrumphing at the Framework Script in the air.

The amphitheater erupted again. A Tier 0 native having access to a Tier 3 equivalent soul was an undeniable, massive advantage.

Zhuge Liang watched the central projection. The Framework isolated Fhesiah’s signature, breaking down her systemic footprint during the first year of Jake's integration.

“Administrator Kintrel,” Odin said. “Please display the entity's historical information and Metagame Data knowledge during the native's Tier 0 and 1 phase. And from where was this creature procured? Were the restrictions on this entity properly applied?”

The golden runes flickered, calculating.

“Query complete,” Kintrel intoned flatly. “The entity possessed zero Framework access upon initial integration. Origin: Unknown. Historical Sector presence: Null. The entity is classified as a cultivator, possessing zero restricted metagame knowledge, and the restrictions were still applied–even if they knew, they could not share it. The entity operated on foreign, localized mechanics–Dao and Qi–wholly divorced from the Alliance native's mana foundation.”

“In other words, gentlemen,” Marcus Aurelius announced, finally standing up from the Accord benches to handle the legal trap. His deep, commanding voice carried the absolute authority of Rome. “She possessed no metagame knowledge to share. Every ounce of mana-based research Hearthtribe produced was synthesized organically within the bounds of their localized physics. Are we now penalizing a native for possessing an efficient teacher?”

Marcus turned his sharp, imperial gaze toward the upper tiers of the amphitheater, locking eyes with the gilded, multi-armed merchant.

“Because if we are ruling that pre-integration, non-Framework tutelage from a high-tier soul is a violation of Fair Play...” Marcus’s voice dropped to a dangerous, silken register. “Then we must be thorough. I petition the Administrator to immediately audit the heirs of every Count and Baron in this room. Let us see how many of your scions received martial foundations from a Divine Ancestor or a Core-Sector tutor before they faced their own Trials or founded their Guilds.”

A sudden, chilling silence swept through the crab-bucketers.

Zhuge Liang smiled behind his feather fan. It was a flawless counterattack. The established nobility and their Divine Patrons always juiced their descendants with top-tier education and ancestral guidance before the Framework fully integrated them. Of course, it was done with careful consideration for the rules with appropriate limits regarding the metagame, but it was the only way dynasties survived.

“Furthermore,” Marcus continued, pressing the blade right against their collective throats. “If the Council wishes to legally classify a personal, non-Framework Dao or Path companion as an illicit interference, we must apply that law to the entire Sector. Every localized soul-link must be severed to prevent cheating. That includes the ancestral echoes, memories of the fallen, and finally, the cultivator 'gophers' every Noble and Divine in this room uses to bypass Sector communication rules and manage their Subguilds remotely.”

The silence shattered into outright panic.

The nobles used those “gophers” to run their empires without paying the Framework's exorbitant fast-travel and comms fees. It was their favorite loophole. If they pushed to punish Lord Hart for her existence, Marcus would use the precedent to legally execute their communication networks, costing them billions of Credits and potential Conquest Points.

The multi-armed merchant cleared his throat, suddenly looking incredibly uncomfortable. “That... that is a completely different systemic classification. Soul-links and ancestral guidance are... traditions. They aren’t... cheating.”

“Indeed,” Odin rumbled, his single eye glinting with dark amusement. “So, the dragon fox stays. And her guidance remains perfectly legal. As you can see, her soul was appropriately limited, and there was no knowledge to restrict. What else would you like to discuss?”

The gaunt Baron opened his mouth to argue, but the armored Count beside him grabbed his arm, pulling him down. The Count wasn't about to lose his communication gophers and ancestral guidance for his scions just to spite one Baron. The crab-bucketers were officially backing down to protect their own wallets and status quo.

Administrator Kintrel had taken to analyzing the glyphs and runes as they debated. “Data synthesis complete. Acknowledging Hearthtribe’s magical research progression.”

Several graphs of magical progression materialized in the air. “The metrics are consistent with logical, native progression. Rapid, but displaying signatures of organic discovery. Observe the plotted trajectories.”

It was easy for Zhuge and most of the smarter nobles to see that the graph had a lot in common with natural growth. A steady curve with points granted for discovering and mastering secrets of the Origins of magic, with only small leaps and plenty of horizontal integration–a second line detailing items made with new capabilities and fringe enhancements to existing tech.

To Zhuge, this strongly suggested that any research wasn’t just handed to them–they understood and applied it on many levels, leading to cascading advancements.

A surge of pride filled Zhuge’s chest. His mentee was truly stoking the flames of innovation among his guild. While Zhuge knew many of the items and researched magic did originate from him and his family, Hearthtribe implemented, supplemented, and enhanced his research as well. It was clearly shown in this graph.

A new graph appeared in front of Administrator Kintrel. Instead of a steady curve with a few jumps, this one had numerous steep cliffs and flat lines in comparison.

Kintrel continued, “And now, observe a contrasting data model. A Guild previously sanctioned for illicit Divine interference, wherein their Goddess slipped knowledge into their prophetic dreams. Note the vertical escalations. Near-zero horizontal integration of their findings. When cross-referenced with the Deep Audit parameters, the conclusion is absolute. Hearthtribe and its allies are realizing their researched potential independently, without external systemic interference.”

“And the Pact?” the gaunt Baron spat, focusing back on Odin, desperate to salvage his trap. “You still interfered in a Neutral Zone! And then, redacted the transcripts!”

Odin countered smoothly, “Then it’s a good thing we have the God of Law here and now, isn’t it? Hear me. Lord Hart was not coerced or influenced–he did not even know he received a boon of any kind. I demanded no oaths. I attached no strings. I simply placed a piece on the board, and he made every single choice, every bloody swing of his weapon, entirely on his own. He is no secret bastard. He is simply a mortal who survived an overtuned nightmare with an efficient teacher.”

Odin chuckled. “Did you know? At Tier 0 during his Trial, Lord Hart and his party of three were forced to face a Tier 2 Champion in an encounter with counter-picked high-quality artifacts and traps, a squad of warriors, rogues, and cultists, and a summoned infernal demon. If that boon he was granted wasn’t earned before that moment, then the Framework itself is broken. But we can all see the result, right there in the Script. He earned his fate, and the proof is that Earth is now free, which is why he earned his Knighthood. What grievance remains?”

Zhuge chuckled at that, and many of the complaining nobles looked notably cowed. Tier 0 was a time when people’s magical potential was significantly limited. Most would scarcely be able to throw a few fireballs at a Boss monster, let alone defeat an evil Champion who could call upon their god in an encounter of their making.

“The grievance of the unknown!” the gaunt Baron spat, refusing to yield, his voice shrill as he grasped at his last straw. “That kind of difficulty spike is not a standard adjustment! What kind of 'boon' warrants that? For all we know, you engineered his very race before the Trial even started! You could have turned a baseline human native of Earth into a dragon and called it a 'Boon!' We demand to know exactly what was given and what was altered!”

Odin let out a dry, rasping chuckle, leaning heavily on Gungnir. “The Fair Play Accords protect the specific mechanics of a Frontier Adventurer's foundation. I am not required to lay out his armory for your amusement, Baron. But I will answer to the God of Law.”

Tyr nodded, narrowing his eyes on the final, most crucial legal threshold.

“Let the record be absolute,” Tyr declared, his domain of Law pressing down heavily on the room. “Did you, Odin All-Father, transfer an unauthorized item or perform unearned, engineered modifications to the mortal's body or soul prior to his ascension? Or use any means to bypass the Ledger? Furthermore, did you task, order, or command any subordinate to alter his fate on your behalf?”

The amphitheater held its collective breath. A God could not lie under the direct inquisition of Tyr and the Framework Administrator. If Odin had orchestrated a cheat somehow outside this Ledger’s purview, his aura and projection would shatter the moment the lie left his lips, and the backlash to his spirit would be felt by even the Elder God for a time–in addition to the sanctions that would be brought upon him.

Odin met Tyr’s gaze without a single flinch. “I granted a Boon within the acceptable limits of the Framework. I performed no soul or body engineering or modification. I transferred no unauthorized items. I commanded no one to alter his fate or do the same. And that statue? I genuinely did not know what was in it. I only somehow knew that Lord Hart could make the best use of it, and it was his own luck or fate that produced that outcome. I did not alter the Ledger. You all know that it cannot be. If it ever was, this Great Game would already be over.”

The golden runes of the Framework flashed a brilliant, undeniable green.

Even Tyr looked slightly shocked, his stoic marble facade cracking for just a fraction of a second. After all, Odin had just stated as law that he did not alter the boy's soul, despite knowing about the Nidhogg scale and a sort of ‘seal’ for his hungry void within him. If that’s not soul modification, then what was it?

The room erupted into furious, defeated grumbles. The crab-bucketers slumped in their seats. The gaunt Baron looked like he was going to be sick, and he likely didn’t achieve the goal Tartarus had set out for him. The All-Father had just legally proven that the boy's soul wasn't artificially engineered by a God, and they had no legal grounds to contest Jake’s earned potential.

But up in the stands, Zhuge Liang didn't relax. He snapped his feather fan shut, his dark eyes narrowing to terrifying slits.

His brilliant mind seized on Tyr’s momentary shock. Odin had admitted to granting an item. A powerful Boon, certainly. But was a simple item enough to trigger such a massive difficulty spike? Was it enough to generate the suffocating, void-like anomaly Zhuge could sense hovering over Jake's Destiny footprint? It was not a mere bloodline.

No. Something else had happened to the boy's soul during that initiation. Something profound.

Zhuge was a master of words, and he knew exactly how gods used them. Odin hadn't answered the spirit of the question; he had answered the exact, literal phrasing. I performed no body or soul engineering or modification. I commanded no one.

He seized on Tyr’s unasked question. The Ledger had recorded an anomaly so massive it had spiked a Tutorial's difficulty, completely separate from his dragon fox ally. And Ophelia the Valkyrie was as nearly aboveboard as one could get–Divine had long since used the tokens to align appropriate companions to those with high potential.

But if Odin hadn't altered the boy's soul... then the All-Father hadn't caused the massive anomaly. He had just stepped in front of it, providing a legally binding cover story for a walking multiversal paradox.

Zhuge frowned, tapping his closed fan against his chin. If Odin didn't command a subordinate... then a subordinate must have acted entirely of their own volition.

He tried to picture the All-Father’s mythos. The spear. The missing eye. The wolves at his feet.

Wasn't there something else?

Zhuge Liang rubbed his temple, a rare spark of genuine confusion flickering in his brilliant mind. He could have sworn the All-Father was known for something else. Something that sat on his shoulders.

A bird? Zhuge thought. The concept was slippery and fading fast. Didn't he have a bird?

Before he could hold onto the thought, it vanished, swallowed completely by the void, leaving only the reality of the amphitheater before him. That brought a grin to Zhuge Liang’s face. Whatever Odin’s machinations were, he had certainly found a path that didn’t bite the Accord in the ass. And he stoked the flames of the noble and divine’s desire to know the truth.

With this resolution, their enemies would find no other path to refute Hearthtribe’s rise, and now, the shield obscuring him would be nearly impenetrable.

Administrator Kintrel’s voice tolled over the fading grumbles, cutting through the chaos. “The parameters are satisfied. Accusations of illicit Framework manipulation are dismissed. And as per the binding agreement struck prior to the audit, Guildmaster Jake Hart is hereby elevated to Active Provisional Count.”

The amphitheater fell into stunned silence. Even the armored Count sank back into his chair, his face pale as the realization hit him.

Up in the stands, Zhuge Liang slowly fanned himself, a deep, satisfied smile spreading behind his feathers. He caught Odin's single eye across the room, and the All-Father gave a microscopic nod.

The betrayers thought they had just trapped Clan Hart in a kill box. They didn't realize that Odin and Zhuge Liang had just gathered all of the Sector’s enemies into a single, convenient location, and handed Lord Hart the hammer.