Chapter 15

"Welcome, my dear humans!" I declared, levitating two meters above the deck, arms outstretched, grinning broadly. "I, the great Tiberius, have taken out the trash. You're welcome. Autographs upon request." I bowed dramatically as the crew, cautiously emerging from below deck after the screams had ceased, blinked up at me in disbelief.

"We're flying... again?" one sailor stammered, wide-eyed. It was the same poor soul I’d flung off the previous vessel now soaring high through the air. His voice trembled, as if recalling a deeply buried trauma.

"Is it truly over?" Rafael asked, his expression tense as he gazed at the two female fishfolk lying bound before the mast. Their bodies were slick with blood, their chests rising and falling rapidly—whether from exhaustion, fear, or rage, it was hard to say.

The rest of the crew remained frozen in a mix of awe and confusion, staring at me hovering mid-air, or rushing to the railings to peer down at the shifting sea far below.

“What kind of monster is that? Did he summon the shark? I’ve never seen one so massive! Are all the fishfolk dead? We’re so high up—I’m not jumping again!” The questions came like rapid-fire from several sailors, their voices blending into a chorus of disbelief.

I placed a hand over my heart, mock-wounded. “I’m offended you'd even question whether the battle is over. And why, pray tell, would we need to jump? My dearest sailors, you’ve survived hardships that would’ve swallowed lesser men whole. You’ve braved battles only because I stood beside you. Now, it is time for celebration—a feast in honor of our victory!”

There was a pause as the weight of my words sank in, and then the mood shifted. Faces once etched in panic began to soften, some even cracking smiles.

“What about the ship?” Rafael asked, glancing upward as if expecting it to fall at any moment. “We can’t exactly sail... anywhere.”

“Simply tell me where you want to go, and I’ll have the wind carry us there,” I said with a wink. “Though you might want to descend before reaching land. Oh, and don’t forget to try out that wand later—it may come in handy sooner than you think. For now, I have pressing business.”

With a snap, I vanished in a blink and reappeared in the ship’s kitchen. A startled young woman stood beside the large, bubbling pot at its center, clearly unsure whether to run or bow. Her eyes darted from me to the pot like a guilty child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Greetings, my little disciple,” I said warmly, reigniting the flames beneath the pot with a flourish. “Now, how are things progressing here?”

“I didn’t touch anything!” she blurted, stepping back as if to distance herself from any potential accusation.

“Excellent, excellent,” I murmured, breathing in deeply. “The grand finale awaits. I trust you remember everything I taught you. Just a few more ingredients and this will be complete.”

“Yes! I know everything now,” she said with a touch of pride, which, naturally, I took as confirmation of my exceptional teaching prowess. But her next words made me pause. “Though... I didn’t think mine was that far off.”

She had to be joking. There was no other explanation. Without another word, I teleported to the storage chamber and gathered two key ingredients: the seeds of the Twilight Flower and a single Moonleaf. Rare plants—highly reactive, rich in essence, and absurdly expensive. Alchemists usually reserved them for elixirs, not stews. But I had a vision.

Teleporting back, I held them out like sacred relics. “Listen closely, my dear apprentice—wait, I never caught your name.”

“Sarah, Master Tiberius,” she said quickly, with a slight bow. I normally detested such formality, but in this moment, I let it slide.

“Very well, Sarah. These ingredients are not to be taken lightly. You must only add them at the very end, when the pot is at its hottest. Otherwise, their essence continues to bleed out endlessly, and the entire broth ends up tasting like oversteeped petals.”

She nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the vivid colors of the ingredients in my palm.

“Now, the most important rule,” I continued, voice lowering as if revealing a secret. “You never, under any circumstances, bruise or tear the leaves. If you see even the smallest blemish, you toss it. Understood?”
Sarah leaned in, examining the plants with newfound reverence. “Understood.”

I smiled. The apprentice still had much to learn—but for now, we were about to serve a masterpiece.

"Yes! Can I have a bite? I want to know how it tastes," she asked with wide, eager eyes.

That caught me off guard. I was holding only a sliver of the Moonflower leaf—just enough to infuse the entire cauldron—and she wanted to taste it? The plant was known for its use in ancient rituals, enhancing one’s connection to the Aether. Feeding it to her seemed reckless, especially since it took a strong will to resist its overwhelming effects. Most people simply passed out for days.

“Sure,” I said nonchalantly, handing her the leaf. “But you need to swallow it whole. No chewing—or you’re screwed.”

As I spoke, I discreetly etched a containment sigil into the wooden floor beneath her with a sharp gust of wind. The ritual circle would trap the volatile energy the leaf would release within her body. It was likely more precise and stable than anything the elven archmages could construct in weeks. This was going to send her on one hell of a ride.

I watched her lift the delicate leaf to her mouth and place it on her tongue. Her eyes lit up. “It tastes... amazing,” she managed—right before they rolled back and she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Yep. That would take a while.

Thankfully, the circle would also speed up her recovery. With a bit of luck, she’d only be unconscious for a few hours. I returned to the soup, carefully adding the last ingredients. Everything was coming together splendidly. Relaxed, I ladled out two bowls—one for myself and one for Sarah, once she regained consciousness. The broth shimmered golden, a thin layer of oil glistening on top. The aroma was exquisite—roasted herbs, rich meat, and earthy root vegetables filled the air like an edible symphony.

Cradling the pot in one hand and the bowl in the other, I teleported back up to the deck. The searing heat of the metal pot didn’t bother me in my current form.

“Attention, everyone!” I boomed, my voice carrying across the deck. “It’s time to feast and get properly drunk! Despite the fact that I did all the hard work and all the cooking, I, in my boundless generosity, am willing to share. So grab some bowls and fetch the good barrels from storage!”

It didn’t take long for the crew to sprint below deck—probably faster than they’d run during the fishfolk attack. Understandable. The soup’s scent alone was enough to make one’s mouth water. I teleported back up to perch on the yardarm, letting a mild, salty breeze tousle my hair as I watched the crew gather around the pot like moths to flame.

Then the feast began.

The moment the first sailor took a spoonful, chaos erupted. The hot broth was slurped down with reckless abandon, and within seconds, the crew was jostling and snapping at each other like hyenas over a fresh kill. Liters of soup vanished in mere minutes. I looked on, half in horror, half in satisfaction. At least they weren’t wasting it. Hunger had been a constant companion for much of my life—perhaps that was why I’d taken the time to teach the girl some proper cooking skills.

Occasionally, I teleported below deck to grab more bread, cheese, and wine. I’d already decided how I would spend my first true day of freedom: perched high above the world, sipping fine wine and nibbling on fresh bread and aged cheese. I had expected a battle. Perhaps a confrontation with old enemies. Or worse—news that the other emperors from the outer realms had found their way here and were already laying claim to this planet.

But so far, things were surprisingly... peaceful.

Of course, I still had no idea how to break the amulet. I would need someone powerful—exceptionally powerful—to do so. The kind of being capable of shattering such a relic might also be capable of forcing me to obey their will. A prospect I did not relish. Perhaps it was wiser to lie low, keep the amulet hidden, and bide my time.

After all, the amulet contained the essence of both an archangel and an archdemon—sacrificed to create it. Tapping into that power could change everything.

The challenge was deciphering what exactly their powers were. Angels were beings of creation, while demons were creatures of destruction—but how they embodied those forces varied wildly. Some demons unleashed firestorms; others conjured poisonous mists or raised the dead. The most formidable—archdemons—specialized in corruption and blight.

As for angels, my knowledge was lacking. Few had fought me directly. From what I’d gathered, their powers also branched widely—some were healers, others guides, and a rare few were warriors bent on “cleansing darkness,” whatever that meant. Personally, I found angels more distasteful than demons. At least demons were honest in their deceit. Angels cloaked their ambition in righteousness, pretending to act out of love while hungering for power and worship.

Defeating a few angels and demons was definitely on my bucket list.

But for now, I just wondered where that brat intended to go next... and what ancient monsters still stirred behind the scenes. Because once word of my return spread, chaos was sure to follow.