Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Vesperin made his way back to the village, his thoughts racing with a mix of excitement and triumph. His footsteps were quick, fueled by the anticipation of what was to come.

As he reached the village's edge, his eyes landed on Elder Thalnor—or rather, Lucas cleverly disguised as Thalnor—standing outside the lab, waiting with an air of calm confidence. The faint flicker of a knowing smile crossed Thalnor's face as their gazes met.

"Ah, Young Master Vesperin," Thalnor greeted smoothly, his voice steady and composed. "What news do you bring from the clan leader? What did he decide?"

Vesperin's expression shifted into one of smug satisfaction, his lips curling into a grin that barely hid his arrogance.

"Don't worry, Elder Thalnor. My father, the clan leader, has personally summoned you. You've managed to impress him." His tone carried a hint of surprise, as though he hadn't expected Thalnor to be capable of such a feat.

Thalnor's expression remained unreadable, though the subtle arch of his brow hinted at amusement.

"Impressed, you say? Well then, it would be rude to keep the clan leader waiting," he said, his voice laced with just enough humility to maintain the facade. Still, there was a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips, barely perceptible unless one looked closely.

Vesperin puffed out his chest slightly, clearly relishing the role of the messenger of such important news. "Indeed. Follow me," he said, his voice carrying an air of superiority, as if he were leading someone beneath him, despite Thalnor's elder status.

Thalnor, maintaining the composure of an elder with great patience, inclined his head. "Lead the way, young master."

They walked together, with Vesperin leading them through the winding pathways of the Malachor Clan's territory. The air grew heavier with power as they approached the clan estate, a grand structure that reflected the dark majesty of the Malachor lineage.

As Thalnor stepped inside the grand hall, his eyes immediately locked onto the man sitting at the far end—the leader of the Malachor Clan, Vesperin's father. Lucas, hidden beneath the Thalnor mask, discreetly scanned the leader's aura. The strength emanating from him was undeniable.

"So, the leader is a Seven-Star cultivator," Lucas mused inwardly, his keen senses detecting the faint fluctuations of the leader's formidable power. The man's presence alone was enough to command respect.

The leader's sharp gaze landed on Thalnor, studying him intently. Without wasting a second, he spoke, his voice deep and authoritative, yet laced with a hint of curiosity. "Elder Thalnor, is it true that you are the one who created this Nether Puppet Cultivation Manual?"

His words were not just a question—they carried the weight of expectation. It was as though the leader was assessing whether Thalnor was truly capable of such a feat or if this was a ploy.

Thalnor—Lucas, still in disguise—remained composed. His expression was respectful, his tone calm yet confident as he nodded. "Yes, Clan Leader. I am the one who developed it."

The leader raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the elder standing before him. His eyes flickered with surprise, but his voice remained measured. "You've made a significant contribution to our clan, Elder Thalnor. This... this has the potential to change the future of the Malachor Clan."

There was a brief pause, the silence hanging heavy between them as the leader's words sank in. Then, a faint smile appeared on the leader's lips, though his gaze remained sharp, as if still evaluating Thalnor.

Thalnor bowed slightly, his voice humble yet with a touch of pride. "Thank you, Clan Leader. I am honored to be able to assist the clan in such a way."

The leader leaned forward on his throne, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and something more—ambition. "Now," he began, his voice dropping slightly as he focused entirely on Thalnor, "tell me, what is it that you seek in return for this contribution?"

There was a pause as Thalnor's lips curled into a small, calculated smile. He met the leader's gaze, unflinching. "I would like access to the clan vault, Clan Leader. I need specific materials to craft more Nether Puppets and to further my research."

The leader leaned back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. His expression betrayed nothing, but his eyes showed that he was considering the request deeply. "Access to the vault, you say?" His voice remained neutral, though there was a sharpness beneath it, as if he were testing Thalnor's motivations.

Thalnor inclined his head in affirmation. "Yes, Clan Leader. The materials I seek are essential to ensuring the continued advancement of the Nether Puppets. Without them, I cannot proceed effectively with my work. And, of course, any improvements made will directly benefit the clan."

The leader studied Thalnor for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke. "That's a reasonable request." His voice had shifted back to the authoritative tone he'd carried earlier, now filled with finality. "You will be granted access to the clan vault to gather what you need."

Thalnor bowed again, his expression one of humble gratitude, though beneath the surface, Lucas was calculating every word. Just as Thalnor opened his mouth to speak, the leader raised a hand, cutting him off.

"What is the highest level of Nether Puppet you can create at this point, Elder Thalnor?" the leader asked, his tone calm but carrying a sharp edge of expectation. His eyes bore into Thalnor, demanding an honest and precise answer.

Thalnor paused for a moment, considering his response carefully. His voice was steady when he finally spoke, "Currently, I am a six-star mage, Clan Leader. But with the necessary materials, I can create Nether Puppets up to the seven-star level."

The leader leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair as he processed Thalnor's words. His face remained impassive, but there was a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Seven-star, you say?" He raised an eyebrow, a subtle sign of intrigue. "Good."

His voice grew more authoritative as he leaned forward, locking eyes with Thalnor. "Once you've gathered the materials you need, I want you to create a range of Nether Puppets for the clan. Start from four-star and work your way up to seven-star. Each one will serve a purpose in our future."

There was no mistaking the weight of this request. The leader's ambitions for the Malachor Clan were clear, and he was placing significant trust in Thalnor to deliver.

Thalnor nodded confidently, not missing a beat. "Of course, Clan Leader. I will see to it immediately." His tone was respectful but filled with the assurance of someone who knew exactly how to fulfill the leader's expectations.

The leader studied him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, then gave a curt nod of approval. "Do not fail me, Elder Thalnor. This is a pivotal moment for our clan."

Thalnor bowed deeply, his voice steady and resolute. "I won't fail you, Clan Leader. You have my word."

With that, the deal was sealed, and Thalnor—Lucas, hidden behind the elder's mask—allowed himself an inward smile. The pieces of his plan were falling into place far better than he had anticipated. The Malachor Clan was now walking directly into his web.

As Thalnor turned to leave, the leader's voice called out once more. "Remember, Elder Thalnor, the clan's future rests on this. Don't disappoint me."

Thalnor didn't hesitate. He turned slightly, his face a mask of calm obedience, and replied, "I will not disappoint you, Clan Leader. The Nether Puppets will be the pride of our clan."

And with that, he left the grand hall, his steps steady, his mind already several moves ahead, plotting the next stage of his elaborate game.