There were only two roads leading in and out of Locked Heart City, so Harry left the ruined city on the road he hadn't come in on.

After checking the Sea of Lightning, Harry found it was once again filled to the brim. He emptied it when activating Heavens Asunder, but once he was struck by lightning a few times, the Sea of Lightning was immediately refilled. Even now, he could feel the sizzling energy inside him, a hair's length away from triggering.

It was an interesting skill, one that charged itself after each use, therefore allowing him to use it continuously. The problem was, of course, the pain and danger that accompanied it.

And furthermore, although it had helped Harry get away from Lockhart, that had largely been due to luck. If Lockhart hadn't used the power of his cultivation base to attack Harry, then the lightning would never have targeted him. Harry could imagine a situation where he activated Heavens Asunder to combat an enemy – only for the enemy to run away, and the lightning to be stuck to himself, leaving himself in an even worse state than before. So, Harry resolved to not use it unless absolutely necessary.

Just as the Nameless Technique said, it was to be used as a last resort.

For two whole days Harry walked on this lonely road, until it merged into a much busier one full of travelers. On the third day, another city came into view.

It was a large city, many times larger than Locked Heart City. In fact, it seemed to be bigger than even the Swan Sea City, so Harry assumed he had reached another of the 20 Tier 2 cities of the Scarlet Phoenix Empire.

After a few inquiries, he found his assumption was correct. The city in front of him was West Minster City, a Tier 2 city.

Suddenly, Harry understood why Lockhart set up base at this particular location in the empire. A cultivator with a Rank 4 Magic Spirit was very rare, and they mostly belonged to the major powers of the empire, such as the Sacred Clans. If Lockhart was to capture one of them for his nefarious purposes, then he wouldn't live to survive the next day. Lockhart's only option was to find someone with a Rank 4 Magic Spirit that wasn't attached to a major influence. But such a person was even rarer. Therefore, he must have picked a location that was close to a large city, but also remote enough to avoid the major powers.

'He must have waited for years and years, so no wonder he was so furious,' Harry laughed to himself as he approached West Minster City.

Wisely, Harry chose to not enter the city. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't be surprised if the moment he stepped a foot inside, he offended three cultivation clans and somehow attracted the attention of a dozen others. And this being a Tier 2 city, it certainly had cultivators and clans at the Core Formation Realm, at the very least. Not even Heavens Asunder would save him here, as if a Core Formation Realm expert was caught in it, the powered up lightning would certainly kill Harry too.

Instead Harry took a detour around the city. He walked westwards, towards the setting Sun, keeping the city on his right.

After a few hours, he found himself nearing a small cemetery. It was located quite a distance from West Minster City, and judging from the state of disrepair, it probably hadn't been maintained in many years. The remains of an enclosing fence were scattered on the ground, and all the tombstones were worn with the passing of countless years. Strangely, there was no road leading from the city to this graveyard, nor were there any other buildings nearby. It was a cemetery in the middle of an empty field.

The Sun had nearly set now, so there were no visitors either.

Harry was about to walk right past it, but something made him hesitate. For some inexplicable reason, he felt drawn the the cemetery, and without really meaning to, he entered through the broken gate.

The cemetery wasn't particularly large, only containing a few hundred stone tombstones. They were originally in neat and orderly lines, but over time, some had toppled and fallen, others were cracked and tilted at odd angles. Harry walked through rows and rows of graves, unsure just what he was looking for or why he had entered this creepy place.

Harry had just about walked through the whole cemetery and out the exit on the far end when a group of three tombs caught his eye. Unlike the other graves, these were in good condition, as if they had been erected yesterday. They stood side by side, each carved out of a black marble slab that reached his waist. Each tomb bore a single name, and a different symbol was carved beneath each name.

Antioch Peverell

Cadmus Peverell

Ignotus Peverell

The first tomb had a single vertical line etched on it. The second tomb had a circle, while the third tomb had a triangle. Harry didn't know the significance of the three symbols, but strangely, he felt drawn to it – especially the triangle. Somehow, he just knew these three tombs were the reason he entered the cemetery in the first place.

"Peverell," he whispered. When he said the word, the wind picked up, and rustled through the cemetery. A cloud covered the Sun, and the world seemed to get darker and colder.

Then Harry turned around, and to his surprise, found that a man was standing behind him, watching him with a calm, serene look. There had been no noise of his approach, no indication whatsoever, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

This was a middle-aged man, though Harry found it impossible to pin an age to him. He was of average height, but very thin. The man had a long face, with slightly sunken cheeks, and bangs that fell to his eyebrows. His hair was pitch-black, blacker than black, and his eyes, though aged, were like two glittering black jewels. They were filled with ancientness, as if they witnessed countless eras. The old robes the man wore were from a different time, made of a dark shimmering material unknown to Harry. The man appeared to be timeless.

In terms of strength or cultivation, Harry couldn't sense anything from this man. Either he was an ordinary person without any cultivation, or, more likely, he was just too powerful for Harry to tell.

"Hello," Harry politely broke the silence.

"Good evening. Odd place for a young man like you to be," the man commented.

"I suppose that's true," Harry said. "What about you?"

"Me? I used to live here, a long, long time ago, but left to travel. Now, I have returned to visit my old home on a whim. So much has changed over the long years, and I confess I'm not quite sure where my house used to stand. But it was in this general area, of that I am sure. I remember these three stone markers – though not the rest of the cemetery."

"Have you been a way for a long time?"

"A long time?" the man's eyes glinted with an amused light. "Yes, you could say so. To meet in this fateful location, it must have been the work of providence! Though I wonder, what brings a young man like you to a graveyard?"

"I –" Harry began, then closed his mouth. How exactly did he end up in this graveyard?

"I'm not sure. I was walking around the city, but somehow, I was drawn inside," he finally admitted.

"Drawn inside? Yes, well-spoken. In the end, aren't we all drawn to Death?"

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, but the man was content to keep talking.

"Peculiar, and fitting even, that you stopped in front of these three stone markers. Antioch, Cadmus, Ignotus Peverell, the three brothers of legend – you've heard their story?"

Harry shook his head.

"I believe it's a famous story in these parts now. Would you like to hear it?"

"Sure," he agreed.

"The three Peverells were brothers, whose deeds have been passed down through the generations – I believe their story is called The Tale of Three Brothers these days."

Harry frowned, as that title seemed to be familiar to him. He shifted through his memories, trying to recall where he had heard that story, and then –

"Oh! From The Tales of Beedle the Bard?" he exclaimed.

Back at the Swan Sea Sect, right before the treasure eruptions began, his former friends had told him the tale of The Swan and the Sun. And they had mentioned The Tale of Three Brothers, supposedly another story in the collection.

"So, you have heard of them!"

"No, no, I haven't heard the story. I just know the title," Harry quickly clarified.

"Ah, very well. Then allow me to tell you the story – at least, the story in The Tales of Beedle the Bard."

"800 years ago, there were three brothers who lived in this land, three cultivators of great talent and power. In their youth, they passed a test, said to be one set down by Death himself. As a reward, Death offered to craft them one treasure each."

"Wait, death? How is that possible?" Harry interrupted.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood. I do not mean death as in the opposite of living – I mean Death, as in the being who comes for us all," the man emphasized.

"Err... ok," Harry said, wondering if this man was off his rocker.

"The oldest brother, Antioch, was a combative man and asked for the most powerful weapon in existence. He received a stick that could channel the power of Death. Aptly, it has become known as the Deathstick, for it could kill the user's enemies as easily as blowing dust."

"The second brother, Cadmus, was a proud man who wished to humiliate Death. He asked for the power to bring the dead back from the grave. Death crafted for him a rock – but this was no ordinary rock, for it gave Cadmus the ability to bring the dead back to life. It became known as the Resurrection Stone."

"And finally, the last brother, Ignotus, was a humble man who wished to live the rest of his life in peace. He asked for a way to evade Death – and received Death's own invisibility cloak. Such cloaks have existed for a long time, but this one was special. No man or woman, beast or creature, cultivation technique or formation would be able to see or sense the wearer whatsoever – not even Death himself. It became known as the Cloak of Invisibility."

"The first brother wielded the Deathstick into battle, slaughtering and butchering his enemies. There was no one who could withstand his might – until one day, he was betrayed by a close friend, who killed him in his sleep and stole the Deathstick for himself. And that was how Antioch fell."

"The second brother used the Resurrection Stone to bring back those he had lost, but those he brought back were not quite the same. They were not dead, but they were also not alive, rather, they existed in a state between both worlds. They could not interact with our world. Eventually, the stone consumed the second brother, and he took his own life. And that was how Cadmus fell."

"The third brother used the Cloak of Invisibility until an old age, at which point he had no use of it anymore. Then, he took off the cloak and greeted Death like an old friend."

"And that is the tale of the three brothers," the man concluded.

"Well? What did you think?"

"Thank you for telling me the story. I found it very interesting – though..." Harry trailed off, not sure how to say this next part.

"What is it? Please, feel free to speak your mind."

"It's not that I am questioning you – it's just, someone once told me that all the stories in The Tales of Beedle the Bard are actually moral lessons taught to children. They aren't actually true," Harry admitted.

"Oh, is that so?" the man gave another amused smile. "Then, what do you think the moral of this tale is?"

"Well," Harry started...

"For the first brother, he was betrayed by someone wanting his power. So the lesson should be that power and treasure will corrupt people. In the cultivation world, you always have to watch your back."

"For the second brother, you said he grew to be consumed by the stone. In other words, he was obsessed over the dead, and couldn't let go. The lesson should be to learn to move on from the dead."

"And for the third brother, he lived to a long age, hiding himself using the Cloak of Invisibility. So I believe the moral lesson is about living a peaceful life, away from enemies and even Death."

"At least, that's my interpretation," Harry finished.

"A fair interpretation, young man," the man nodded. "I would imagine Beedle the Bard had those lessons in mind when he wrote his version of the story. Nothing you said was wrong – of course, assuming that was the true story of the three brothers."

"True story?"

"Indeed, the true story. The tale told by Beedle – it has a few details correct, but I'm afraid it is not very accurate. As a seasoned traveler, I have wandered long and far, across this world and beyond, and I have heard many versions of this story. Yet, not a single one of them is correct. Would you care for the real version?"

"Please, go ahead," Harry nodded.

"I don't suppose you've heard of the World Tree, have you?" the man threw out a non sequitur, to which Harry just shook his head.

"I didn't think so, though, I believe you'll be seeing it soon enough," the man responded with a knowing smile.

"Anyways, the World Tree. It is a very special tree, truly one of a kind, which lies at the heart of our world. It also has another name, the Epoch Tree, for it is what marks the beginning and end of each epoch. When the tree is born, the new epoch begins, and when the tree dies, the epoch ends."

"Epoch? How many years is that?"

"How many years?" the man laughed. "One does not measure an epoch in years. But if you must, it can take a billion of your years to grow a leaf on the World Tree. An epoch is a long, long time indeed."

'Ok, this guy is crazy,' Harry decided.

"Anyways, I tell you this because the tale of the Peverells is not from 800 years ago. Actually, it is from three epochs ago."

"..."

"Three epochs ago, known as the Epoch of Death. In that epoch, Death was the ruler of the high heavens, and he mercilessly reaped the lives of those below. The world suffered under his oppressive might, and willed a champion to overthrow him. To combat Death, three unparalleled brothers rose to the top of the world. With their cultivation and power, they were undefeatable, and there was no enemy who was their match – other than Death."

"On the ground where the three brothers were born, they made a promise. They would fight Death, and fight him together. Either the three of them would perish, or they would defeat Death and obtain glory for eternity. To seal the promise, each brother erected a tombstone, signifying their resolve to fight to the bitter end. Yes, the three markers you see before you are precisely those tombstones, carved all those years ago."

Harry looked down at the three gravestones, which apparently had existed for an unimaginably long period of time.

"Each brother came up with their own plan to defeat Death. The first brother crafted the Deathstick, using a branch of the World Tree which he refined and seeped in the waters of the Yellow Springs for billions of years. With a wave of the Deathstick, Antioch could create mountains of corpses and rivers of blood."

"The second brother crafted the Resurrection Stone out of a stone he found on the banks of the Yellow Springs, and spent billions of years enchanting it. Though this was not a stone he used to communicate with his lost ones – this was a stone he used to summon vast armies of the dead to do his bidding. Whenever Cadmus flipped the stone, all the creatures the three brothers had ever killed rose to join them in battle, an army so vast it blotted out the world."

"And the third brother, the wisest of them all. He pondered for billions of years, thinking of a way to defeat Death. But he could not devise a plan, or craft a weapon, or practice a cultivation skill, that gave him the confidence to defeat Death. In the end, Ignotus decided Death was not to be fought, and tried to convince his brothers the same. However, Antioch and Cadmus refused to listen, determined to defeat Death. In shame, Ignotus crafted the Cloak of Invisibility to evade the upcoming battle. Of the three brothers… he was the only one to break his promise," the man said while looking at the third tomb with a wistful expression.

"Even without Ignotus, the two brothers went ahead. Armed with their weapons, they challenged Death from his position in the high heavens. They fought a long and bloody battle, one that lasted for millions of years and shattered the principle of the world itself. All living creatures felt the effects of the battle, the Heavens were overturned, and the cultivation system itself was cut off. Yet, in the end, the two brothers were defeated miserably, and Death was victorious. But it was Pyrrhic victory, because by then, Death's power had infused throughout the world, causing the World Tree to wither. Over a countless number of years, it lost its vitality and died, ending the epoch. Nearly all life perished – but not the third brother, who used his Cloak of Invisibility to preserve what he could. In fact, this land we stand on is a remnant of a past epoch."

"And that is the true version of The Tale of Three Brothers."

The man concluded his version of the story, expectantly looking at Harry, who just looked back awkwardly. Though part of him was tempted to escort this man to a doctor, something about the man made him hesitate. Perhaps it was the sheer outlandish tale he had managed to weave – it was so outlandish that not even an insane man could have come up with it.

"Well, that's a fantastic story," Harry finally managed to say.

"Indeed, isn't it? Do you see the symbol on the headstones?"

Harry nodded. The man must have been referring the triangle, circle, and line carved on the three graves.

"The triangle is the cloak, the circle is the stone, and the line is the stick. Together, they form the Deathly Hallows, three items said to grant the bearer mastery over Death."

"Speaking of that, the three brothers held another title during their epoch. They were called the Sovereigns of Death."

Something about the way the man said the last phrase was off to Harry, and he sucked in a deep breath of cold air.

"Sovereign?"

"Right, Sovereigns of Death. The eldest brother, who killed and killed until he could kill no more. The middle brother, with the power to bring back the dead. And the youngest, able to escape the clutches of Death himself. Each power was different, but nonetheless involved with Death – Sovereign, don't you think that's a fitting title?"

"I suppose so," Harry said evenly.

"And what about you, young boy? What does the word "sovereign" mean to you?"

"W-who are you?" Harry took a nervous step back. This question was too targeted, too uncanny, and he didn't believe for a moment that it was a coincidence.

There was nobody who knew his deepest secret – the name of his Magic Spirit. Nobody knew of the Cursed Sovereign Spirit, nobody knew that the Nameless Technique was supposedly the technique of the sovereigns, and nobody knew the special significance of that word to Harry.

"No need to be nervous, young man. It's just an innocent question, that's all," the man said gently. His soothing voice calmed Harry down, giving him the assurance this man meant no harm. Harry tried to come up with a response.

To be a sovereign was to be a ruler, everybody knew that. It was like a king, or a monarch. But Harry was sure there was a deeper meaning – to both the word and this man's question. It just wasn't something he had considered deeply before.

"It means to rule, I suppose," he concluded lamely.

"To rule," the man nodded, while stroking his chin.

"To rule. Yes, I suppose that's an acceptable definition. Short and simple, and gets straight to the point. One could say that each brother ruled over one aspect of Death, could you not?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Then if to be a sovereign is to rule, then I wonder, what will you be the ruler of?"

"What will I be the ruler of?" Harry's thoughts lulled, and he was stumped. He looked off into the distance, unsure how to answer this question. He had never considered himself a ruler.

But, the Magic Spirit was a reflection of the human's nature, everyone knew that. If his spirit was a sovereign, whatever that meant, then that must have reflected something about himself.

Was he a sovereign?

Did he consider himself a ruler?

"I don't know," Harry turned back to the man – and then froze in surprise.

The man was gone, having disappeared without a trace.

No matter how Harry searched the graveyard or the surrounding areas, he could find no trace of the man. It was almost as if he had vanished into thin air, there one moment and simply not there the next.

Though he disappeared, his words had not. They remained in Harry's mind, echoing over and over.

'I wonder, what will you be the ruler of?'

Over the night, Harry asked himself that question countless times.

What did it mean to be a Sovereign, and how was he supposed to fulfill that role?

After quite a while of futile searching, both physically and mentally, Harry decided to leave the graveyard and continue on his path. The man he met must have been some sort of cultivation expert – albeit, one who was missing a few marbles and knew too much about Harry.

At the end of the day, Harry reached the other side of West Minster City. He had taken a long detour, but it was worth it. Outside of the city was a large signboard, which listed all the settlements nearby and their relative distance. As a Tier 2 City, West Minster City was a hub of the empire. There were hundreds, if not more, smaller cities and other landmarks dotted around West Minster City.

Harry sided over, taking a look through the long list to get an idea of where to travel next.

Winter Fold Forest – ten day's travel

Black Rock City – half a day's travel

Grey Stone City – half a day's travel

Brown Boulder City – half a day's travel

Rocky Mountain City – one day's travel

On and on the list went, and then Harry saw it.

Crystal Mine City – three day's travel.