Pampered by my three brothers: the return of the neglected heiress novel Chapter 1836

Chapter 1836: The Birth of a King

Meanwhile, on the coast of the island...

Atlas already had a good idea of what life would be like with the Shadow Order. After all, his journey with Sybil had given him a broader horizon for what to expect. She told him more than what Zoren could offer regarding this.

Not Zoren’s fault.

Zoren simply claimed the Shadow Order, then dropped dead. So, it was no surprise that Zoren only knew the general knowledge of it. Thus, Sybil’s hindsight helped more than one could have imagined.

One of those insights was that Atlas may try to change the Shadow Order’s structure, but never its nature. And if Atlas wanted to secure his spot, not just in the Order but in the Secret Society, he must conquer one thing.

Death.

Not his, but death—blood on his hand.

Because in the Secret Society, if one was not capable or even willing to take another’s life, then it was their own life that would be taken.

Standing on the shore with him, the granny—Sybil—snapped her eyes up at him. "Are you truly certain of this, young man?"

Atlas didn’t say anything, his gaze somewhere distant. He drew a deep breath, finally meeting her eyes.

"Yes," he said. "Though I do appreciate your questions and offers."

"It’s not for you," she clarified kindly. "It may sound like it, but it is not for you."

Sybil paused, holding her hands behind her as she gazed ahead. "I asked you because your decision will affect thousands of people’s lives. You may be exceptional in your world, but the Secret Society is far too different."

"Why do you think the Zorken and the Shadow Order separated?" she added. "Because if the Shadow Order operated within the Secret Society, they would all just come hand in hand, regardless of their dissatisfaction with one another." _{f.re(e) w.e(b)nov el.c.om}

Sybil huffed faintly. "Having a common enemy is a problem that often unites those who are broken. Just like how Anteca united to take down Nathalie, it would be the same. The only difference is that those in the Secret Society can kill you even before you realize it."

As the two spoke, they spotted someone drifting ashore.

"You’re right," Atlas said flatly, taking a step toward the figure.

When he stopped, he watched a woman crawl on the shore. Parts of her arms were burned, and her hair was disheveled, revealing parts of her scalp. She looked like someone who had crawled straight out of the burning pits of hell.

However, Atlas stared at her emotionlessly. After a moment, Sybil stood near him, hands behind her, eyes on the woman.

"People like her... evil people like her don’t die so easily," he continued, expressing his thoughts.

Sybil nodded as she chuckled. "Of course. We cling to life just as fiercely. Hence, even if you shoot us or even throw a grenade—or in this case, shoot them down with a missile launcher—we’ll find our way to survive... and regroup."

"That’s how demons are," she added. "That’s how it’s been, and always will be."

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