Demonic Po*nstar System Chapter 727: Terms of Dissolution

The declaration echoed through the office.

"I refuse to listen to you say even one unnecessary word."

Magnus clamped his mouth shut.

Silence dragged on sufficiently for the lawyer to approach and set a leather-bound folio onto Magnus’s desk. He flipped it open, arranged the papers, and handed over a pen.

"These outline the dissolution terms for the marriage of Vespera Ashborn and Magnus Ashborn," the lawyer announced. "A split of all shared assets, properties, and business stakes. Both sides are here. The Awakened Association serves as the official witness."

The judge advanced and spoke directly to Magnus.

"Mr. Ashborn, do you approve this counsel for the proceedings?"

Magnus examined the lawyer closely. For more than ten years, he’d dealt with this man on merger deals, guild pacts, and real estate buys. Magnus scanned his features for any sign of deceit, a twitch, or averted eyes. The lawyer locked eyes with him steadily.

He wouldn’t risk it. Betraying Magnus Ashborn meant the end of his career, and the fellow was clever enough to realize that. Even if he were somehow turned, what did it matter? His role was purely procedural. Magnus could decipher the text and grasp the provisions on his own without guidance.

"Accepted," Magnus declared. "But Vespera, know this: I won’t sign unless you offer something truly enticing. I’m prepared for whatever comes in a legal battle."

She offered no response. It seemed she was completely finished talking to him.

"Feel free to examine the terms as you wish," the judge stated, then stepped back.

Magnus drew the folio closer.

He scanned the pages.

The opening page held routine divorce wording. The next detailed the asset split. His gaze raced over the text, face altering with each flipped sheet. New Dawn—complete operational authority, total ownership, guild charter, and linked brand privileges—all handed to Magnus Ashborn. Subsidiaries, partner companies, funds, estates.

He flipped to yet another page. The Ashborn ancestral properties, including the mansion of her birth.

Magnus halted his reading and looked up toward Vespera.

Her arms hung loosely at her sides, expression blank, gaze fixed on a spot beyond his left shoulder like the wall there held greater fascination than him.

He returned to the papers. He leafed through the rest. Vespera Ashborn kept only her private funds and belongings. She surrendered the guild, subsidiaries, estates, the generational family residence. All that the Ashborn legacy had gathered now fell to him, as she departed with solely her own earned fortune.

He went back to the asset split and reread it deliberately, hunting for hidden terms, triggers, or reversal clauses.

One requirement emerged.

A lone stipulation from Vespera amid boundless concessions. Once the marriage ended, Magnus must resume his original surname: Morvane. Their three offspring—Selena, Cassian, and Calix—would shift to his exclusive custody and adopt the Morvane name too. The Ashborn name, heraldry, and every lineage right stayed solely with Vespera.

That summed it up. Her sole demand.

Vast billions in wealth, a full guild, her birthplace mansion, riches from two noble bloodlines... yet Vespera Ashborn’s fierce battle centered on ensuring he could never share her name.

Magnus nearly grinned.

He faced the lawyer. "Are these terms precise?"

"They are."

"Have you checked them thoroughly?"

"I have. The split tilts strongly your way, Mr. Ashborn. Everything’s legally solid and binding as stated."

He observed Vespera once more.

"Why surrender so much?" he questioned.

Her stare dropped to the floor. Shadows gathered motionless at her feet. Her posture screamed one message: sign so I can escape.

She handed him it all because she craved zero ties to him. Not even the surname.

Magnus grasped the pen and signed.

The pen glided across the signature spots with expert flourishes. He added initials as needed, dates where marked, then placed the pen aside upon completion.

"Witnessed," the judge affirmed, adding his signature.

"Recorded," Grace announced from her spot. She hadn’t stirred.

With crisp formality, the judge declared, "By my granted authority, the marriage of Vespera Ashborn and Magnus Morvane stands dissolved. Settlement terms bind immediately and hold force."

At those words, Vespera’s head shifted.

Transformation struck in an instant. The figure rigid with suppressed turmoil vanished. What arose pivoted toward Magnus, and the sight on her face halted his breath.

She smiled broadly.

Vast. Deranged. A rictus tearing her features unlike anything from over two decades wedded, eyes above it devoid of any kindness. Shadows erupted from her feet, charging over the floor like unleashed beasts, devouring office light in one pulse. They surged up her legs, torso, arms, engulfing Vespera Ashborn into oblivion as though she’d never stood there.

Elizabeth vanished alongside her. The judge hugged his folio tight and rushed through the door.

Brightness returned to the office. Shadows withdrew. Warmth filled the air.

Magnus remained at his desk, pen resting where left, signature ink drying on the sheets.

Grace stayed put. Her three guards stayed put.

Magnus breathed out. His hands trembled yet. That grin haunted him, twisted and piercing, her vanishing speed leaving icy traces lingering on his flesh.

He dismissed it.

"Damn," he grumbled alone. "That woman was overjoyed to be free of me."

His words lingered in the office quiet. Grace stayed silent. Her guards stayed silent.

Magnus reclined in his seat as shoulder tension from the broadcast’s start began to ease. His eyes drifted to the desk’s former folio spot, the pen, the empty area his wife had occupied—now just bare floor and vanishing shadows.

She yielded it all to him. Everything, transferred in moments, for Vespera Ashborn endured not one extra breath sharing his space.

Laughter burst from him. He combed fingers through his hair, shaking his head.

"Vespera Ashborn," he uttered. "The Shadow Monarch. The name that sends S-tier warriors bolting awake in night sweats, tormented by dreams of clashing with her." He waved at the vacant office, the exit she’d dissolved through, the void she’d created. "Threw away her family’s whole heritage unable to face her spouse across a desk and bargain maturely."

Now he grinned wide.

"The Nightmare of Children," he relished. "Revealed as a spineless, brittle girl who forfeited an empire over a frail heart."

He lifted the pen. Twirled it in his fingers. Laid it back down.

"Women..." he laughed. "Utterly pitiful."

Grace caught every syllable. Her face remained unchanged.

Then the feed activated.