Endless Evolution: Last Star Chapter 1578 1578: Old Horn

Liliane's squad stood ready to depart from their outpost, setting course for the Primal Lands. Yet, could that truly secure the capture of merely one K4-Phantom?

The entrance swung open while the man stepped back into his quarters high in the tower.

"Did they accept the assignment?" the woman inquired, her wine glass tilting lazily in her grip.

He gave a firm nod.

"Naturally. They're prepared to execute any command you issue. Liliane in particular—she just needs a few more decades, and she'll emerge as a top-tier fighter."

The man started to add more, but the woman cut him off abruptly:

"That's insufficient."

"Eh?" The man blinked repeatedly, puzzled. "Miss, this marks the fifth squad, with seven formidable Lords. Every one of them possesses the power to shatter every bone in Adam Vinter's frame. Surely that's ample assurance for the mission's triumph?"

The woman sipped her wine, averting her eyes.

"Don't be absurd. Do you believe we're the sole ones who see his worth? To our side, Adam Vinter poses a grave risk, but to the humans, he's a prodigy they must safeguard at all costs."

"B-But..." The man stuttered. "He's located in the Primal Lands at present! Frida can't shield him there!"

The woman whipped around, fixing him with a sharp glare.

"Last time, location changed nothing. He lingered right in the heart of the Dark Shore. The First Star handed us an opening to eliminate him, yet we squandered it! Flanked by two Lords and a Second Rank Phantom, he proved untouchable. Our forces never had a prayer."

The man bowed his head low.

"My regrets. I overlooked that detail. Miss, if you'd prefer to deploy additional troops for this operation, perhaps I could approach the fourth or sixth squad? I'm confident they'd consent to linking up with Liliane's group."

Curiously, she rejected the suggestion outright. A different strategy occupied her thoughts.

"The Primal Lands, eh? I'll reach out to the Old Horn. Bargaining with him will prove far tougher than dispatching yet another squad, but enlisting one of the deadliest feral beasts for the job would all but ensure victory."

"The Old Horn? Hmm... That stubborn relic will no doubt insist on some exorbitant price. Still, if this eliminates a looming danger for good, it'll prove a wise move."

The woman inclined her head, her expression growing more intense.

"Precisely. And luckily, our reserves run deep. You're dismissed. I'll handle the arrangements myself."

The man dipped into a deep bow.

"Understood!"

With no more words, he exited her room, abandoning her to her contemplations.

"Tch, I had no desire to resort to this, but I can't ignore such a prime chance. During this World Wipe, troubles will pile up endlessly. If I can neutralize one major threat immediately, then I have to seize the moment."

She placed her wine glass on the balcony ledge and moved toward another section of her tower.

A massive crimson emblem adorned the wall, etched with complex symbols and archaic runes.

Right at the emblem's core sat an illustration of a blood droplet cradled between two palms.

The woman shut her eyes as the energy surge ignited the seal.

Crimson vapor coiled about her form while vivid stars ignited within the flowing power.

Gradually, she lifted her lids, fixing her stare on a single star.

"Alright, Old Horn, time to discover what you're still made of."

Her finger brushed the star.

...

Precisely then, within a remote corner of the Primal Lands, atop a vast stone seat draped in animal pelts, a towering three-meter figure slumbered.

His flesh bore a ghostly blue hue, his chest exposed, and his skull blended bull and lion traits in monstrous fashion. This creature embodied its primal shape, which oddly mirrored the humanoid guise of fellow beasts.

Yet his skull, hooves, talons, and tusks marked him unmistakably as no human—more akin to the legendary minotaur.

Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.

A scarlet glow emanated from the pouch of his loose trousers, rousing his slate-gray eyes.

"Grh?" The beast scowled. "What in blazes is this?"

He rubbed the nape of his neck, grazing his horn. A matching one lay shattered at its root.

Wearing a groggy scowl, the beast fished the relic from his pocket: the crimson droplet now ablaze with glowing runes.

He gripped the crimson droplet tight, unleashing the scarlet haze into the air.

Moments later, a feminine voice echoed through the cavern:

"It's been ages, Old Horn."

The Old Horn grimaced.

"You realize I can only hear you, not behold you? Though... We both know there's nothing captivating about your appearance anyway."

"My, my, your tongue remains as sharp as ever." The woman sighed, shaking her head.

Had any other soul dared mock her so brazenly—even a Lord—their end would have been swift, but the Old Horn stood apart.

"Tch. Out with it. How many years since our last chat? Huh? You didn't summon me for chit-chat about the skies, did you?"

The woman dipped her head solemnly.

"Indeed. I seek your aid. You're holed up in your den in the Primal Lands, as usual. Correct?"

"Hah, where else? This is my domain!"

"Then know this: two intruders now wander your territory. Slay one and seize the other unharmed, then deliver the captive to Liliane's fifth team."

The Old Horn arched a brow.

"Liliane? That young pup's leading now? Heh, that's the last thing I figured I'd hear."

"Affirmative, she's proven herself adept, but she's got much to master if she aims for the pinnacle one day."

The Old Horn hawked a glob onto the floor and wiped his lips.

"Fine, who's the target? If it's a high-rank Phantom, cut the link and stay gone forever."

The woman squinted.

"No cause for alarm. It's merely a basic K4-Phantom—Adam Vinter."

The Old Horn blinked in rapid succession, utterly baffled.

"W-What?"