Inside the command tent of the Blackflame Empire in the meagre area they had kept control, twenty-one Underlords had gathered. There were more of them, but Emperor Naru Huan had summoned all that could gather on short notice, including the Captain of his Skysworn, Naru Gwei.

  The Emperor seated before them was dressed plainly for an Emperor. His wings were withdrawn into his spirit, and he wore sapphire robes wrapped with dragon decorations. Behind the two rows of Underlords, Truegolds squeezed in next to one another, organised according to their rank.

  His gaze was locked onto the other end of the room, where Akura Mercy stood, craning her neck to look to the back.

  He had summoned Eithan's squad earlier, wanting to receive their input on what the Blackflame Empire should do. The rouge night attacks had stalled any advance from the Seishen Kingdom, but it also didn't mean that the Blackflame Empire could muster a proper force.

  Apparently, Eithan's squad had been making up a plan of their own and had requested a full audience to discuss their plans. Naru Gwei's first reaction was to reject their request immediately, thinking Eithan was somehow involved. But Eithan was with most of their Underlords on the other side of the portal, patrolling the area they controlled. Gwei had reluctantly agreed then.

  "It seems like we're all here," the Akura Truegold spoke brightly. "Can we begin?"

  Normally, one would not speak to him in such a manner before an audience. But then again, the Blackflame Empire was nothing but a vassal for the Akuras. So he didn't speak out and nodded instead. "You may."

  "Our family harvests the Night Wheel Valley," Mercy announced. "We keep the excess natural treasures in a vault, which we use periodically for training or Soulsmithing. However, natural treasures can lose power over long travels, so they are stored in a vault inside the valley."

  Naru Huei had suspected it, and it was good to know that his thoughts were confirmed.

  The room stirred, and he heard some of the Underlords discussing whether the Sage would allow it or not.

  Huei shared their sentiments. He shivered when he remembered the Sage's words when she warned them against weakening another vassal. Worst of all, he didn't even know that Eithan had sent the Wastelanders to poison the Seishen's supplies, and he had to take responsibility and apologise.

  He had wanted to reprimand them immediately, but he feared the repercussions more. The Wastelands had Heralds, several based on recorded sightings and even more based on his hunches. The fact that neither the dragons nor the Akura Clan had ever taken control of that damn forest only supported his thoughts. They were not afraid of no Sages. The border between the Empire and the Wastelands had remained peaceful under his rule, and he would ensure it continued to be so.

  Despite all that, the Wastelanders' efforts had prevented the Empire from being driven out of the valley. Wei Shi Lindon and Yerin Aurelius were now in the top 100 of Truegolds, and the girl was severely injured, so there was no punishing them.

  The only one he could punish was Eithan. And Eithan was an Underlord. It would be a waste not to put him to use. And the Underlord had taken it with a smile when he ordered Eithan to remain a guard in the valley for the remainder of their time there.

  Naru Huei felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. So much of being an Emperor.

  Luckily, he had his sister.

  "Thank you for bringing this to us," Naru Saeya said. "But why now? The secrets of your family should not be shared lightly, but if you were going to tell us, then why not when we could reach them?"

  Akura Mercy smiled. "Now, Akura Charity owes me a favour. She owns the Night Wheel Valley and the vault itself. She might not have given me the treasures, but she would have looked the other way if I had taken them. It would be a nice consolation prize for the attack."

  The conversation went on. A few of the Underlords were unsure, but Huei could feel the eagerness in their spirits when Akura Mercy told them the location. It was in no man's land between the two vassals' border. Exactly where several rogue squads of his Skysworns have plenty of recent experience in.

  It was a good plan.

  "This could be done," he spoke up. "They have only one Overlord, and he cannot come alone. It will take them time to gather their forces. At our maximum speed, we could be in and out in two hours. Long before they can gather enough strength to challenge us."

  And it wouldn't involve any type of poisons , he didn't say.

  He continued. "However, we shall not act without the Sage's permission, especially due to ... recent events. Only with her approval shall we act."

  Akura Mercy shrugged and pointed to the corner of the tent. "Then ask her."

  His eyes rose up as he followed her finger. There, in the ceiling of the tent, was a silver-and-purple owl.

  Seishen Daji stood in a corner like everyone else. He was an Underlord now, on equal footing with his brother and the servant. Yet he had never felt so small. He kept his spirits veiled, ignoring the questioning eyes of the other Underlords.

  He knew what they were thinking. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended the Sage?

  None of them were right. His father had smiled proudly for the first time after he had advanced. He had always wanted that smile. For his father to look upon him the way his father would look at Kiro. Yet he only felt bitterness upon seeing that smile.

  The Wasteland woman's voice continued to echo in his mind.

  'Always in the shadow of an older sibling. ... You need to let it go. ... Find another path.'

  Her voice had left his head, but her words never did. He hated it because it had forced him to confront the truth he had always hidden behind a mask of brashness and arrogance.

  She had toyed with him during their battle, and he had told himself her words were mere insults.

  But deep down, he knew otherwise. And his Underlord revelation hadn't made it easier.

  "I practice the sacred arts because I want to be seen," he remembered whispering, afraid that anyone would overhear. Those words had stirred the soulfire, yet he knew it wasn't enough. It wasn't until he added his last few words that his Underlord advancement finally triggered.

  "like my brother..."

  Now, all the Lords, Ladies, and high-ranking Truegolds of the Seishen Kingdom had been gathered on top of a castle inside Night Wheel Valley. The roof had been turned into a celebratory feast as word got out that the Sage was coming.

  He didn't touch the food, pay attention to the lights, listen to the music, nor spare a look at the soaring bird remnants above. His attention was locked onto the stage, where his brother and father were conversing with the Sage.

  Kiro, his brother, had done his best to shield Daji from their father's ire for his whole life. Yet, Daji had never repaid it in kind.

  His fists clenched when he remembered seeing his brother with a hole through his stomach in the aftermath of their battle with the Blackflame Empire.

  He heard his father's voice boom as the man boasted their achievements to the Sage. "We were very careful not to do anything that might weaken fellow servants of the Akura Clan," his father assured the Sage. "But we took bold actions, and despite their 'lethal' attempts, we have secured victory!"

  Daji didn't like what he saw: his father was so subservient to the Sage yet never kind to his second son.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Victory?" the Sage's serene voice echoed.

  King Dakata then muttered some words to play it off.

  The Sage raised one finger in each hand. "There is one young Underlord from the Blackflame Empire who has been my choice all along. And I have had an eye on one young Lord or Lady from your Kingdom." She lowered her hands. "Nothing had changed."

  Good, Daji thought. Kiro deserved the opportunity. Himself, on the other hand? He had chosen to leave the Kingdom after this and carve his own path. A second son never receives anything from their father. If he wanted to make a name for himself, he would need to create one.

  His brother responded to the Sage first. "Honoured Sage, is there nothing we can do to distinguish ourselves in your eyes?"

  "They will return," the Sage answered. "But," the Sage continued. "I shall award you for your achievements so far. Step forward, Seishen Kiro."

  Kiro nervously stepped forward, and the Sage pulled out a shield made of dark metal and handed it to him. Kiro bowed on one knee and accepted it in both hands.

  "Step forward, Riyusai Meira."

  The servant, surprised to hear her name called, took a moment to join Kiro and knelt to the Sage. Behind them, King Dakata furrowed his brows in anger.

  She handed Meira a knew scythe forged of black and silver steel.

  Then, the Sage's head whipped to the audience, and her gaze landed right on Daji.

  "Step forward, Seishen Daji."

  Daji didn't meet her gaze as he walked towards the stage, the crowd parting in surprise when they recognised him as he passed. He joined and knelt next to his brother.

  Unlike the others, the Sage hadn't gifted him a weapon. She gave him a chest plate. The surface was plain, made of a black alloy, but he felt the bindings underneath. It was made for an Overlord.

  Then, the Sage extended a letter to Kiro. "The details are held within. You three shall go to the location indicated and follow the directions I have given you."

  Kiro's eyes went wide as he read the letter.

  The Sage continued. "This time. Hold nothing back," her voice reverberated through the air.

  Daji kept his expression neutral. He already knew what she wanted. Another fight. Another battle.

  "I have only one reminder," the Sage said. " You should not harm Akura Mercy. "

  King Dakata's boisterous yell echoed through the roof. "We will not let the Sage down!"

  Daji didn't look up, but he felt the weight of the Sage's eyes on him as she spoke. "Truly, I hope you don't."

  Then she disappeared.

  He ignored his father's words of encouragement to Kiro. He ignored Kiro's request for his father to have three sets of armour made instead of two.

  Daji only looked to the ground. Truth be told, he was more excited by the idea of leaving than spending another second in the valley.

  Akura Charity watched through her owl, perched on the top of the foremast of the Blackflame Empire's Imperial Cloudship. It was a hundred paces long and forty wide, with three levels, resting on top of a jade cloud. The ship was impressive for one belonging to a vassal, yet despite their intricate scripts, her eyes could see through its walls.

  The Imperial Cloudship had left a few minutes ago, and she had alerted the Seishen Kingdom of their actions. By now, the three Seishen Underlords she had chosen should be already waiting inside her vault.

  Her gaze shifted below the deck to the room near the edge. She saw through the scripted walls. The Wasteland woman had used her technique to make them invisible. Yet despite being unable to see them, Charity could feel their spirits.

  Mercy had advanced to Truegold, thus returning to her previous level of advancement before she left Moongrave. Despite her advancement, Mercy's spirit was shaking, and Charity reckoned it must have stemmed from the worry for her friends and her own nervousness.

  However, Eithan Aurelius's disciples' spirits remained stable. They didn't stir or shift. They were ready for their battle.

  Then her thoughts went to the Wasteland disciples, and her eyes narrowed. She didn't know much about them or their abilities; she had glimpses of them, but the poison artist had a talent for avoiding her owls and taking them out. She could detect the female Wastelander with the others but not the male. Her thoughts had returned to when the poison artist had struck her. She hadn't even felt his spirit. Not even his scent. Despite her being veiled to a Lowgold, her perception was still above any of the Lords there.

  Now, she did not bother leaving her owl undetected on the ship. The secrecy had sailed, so there was no point in keeping up the technique to keep her owls hidden. Instead, the owl she had sent to the Imperial Cloudship was made to withstand attacks, especially for the upcoming battle.

  The alarms on the ship lit up like a bell.

  "Seishen Cloudships, up ahead!" the Blackflame navigator yelled.

  All eyes on the deck of the Cloudship turned to the Emperor, who stood in the centre dressed for battle in green sacred artists's robes. The ship lifted up, and the propulsion constructs gathered more power.

  Charity was impressed by the number of new Truegolds and Underlords that the Blackflame Empire had gathered. It was impressive for such a backwater vassal. Yet the Empire's new Underlords were not cut out to be considered to represent her family in the Uncrowned Tournament.

  She returned her gaze to Eithan's squad below deck; Mercy's spirit had grown uneasy and had begun to leave the room with the Wastelander woman.

  Her gaze was cut off when a voice spoke next to her owl.

  "Enjoying the view?" Whitehall gibed at her, climbing and taking a seat on the Barrel on top of the foremast next to her. "Sage." He regarded her as he met her owl's eyes.

  Akura Charity stared at the Beast King's disciple. Again, she hadn't felt him. Hadn't heard him through the noise below.

  He wore the standard Skysworn armour, except for the wooden mask that covered half of his face. This close, she could feel the Poison madra oozing out of the masked side of his face.

  "Looking for front-row seats for the battle?" Whitehall asked again with the same mocking tone. He lifted himself to sit on the edge of the barrel and crossed his legs to relax as if the commotion underneath was not happening.

  She stayed silent, not bothering to reply. Instead, she tried to figure out his veil.

  He continued, looking down to the bustling deck below, at the Skysworns preparing for battle. "That's what we are to you, isn't it? Entertainment."

  Charity ignored him, adding more madra to her owl. Her owl was limited in its senses other than sight and sound, but having the chance to finally be this close to him, she needed to try.

  "You don't need to answer," he shrugged, returned his gaze to her owl, and shook his head nonchalantly. "I already know what I want to know."

  Through her owl's perception, he felt like a termite.

  "Lives are cheap for the Sage!" he announced loudly, although no one below seemed to hear. "Let's send Underlords after Truegolds for daring to defend themselves!"

  He wasn't hiding his spirit like how a regular veil would've involved. He was blending it with his environment.

  "But that doesn't explain why you sent them after me and Sadi," he began rubbing his chin mockingly in an exaggerated act of false thinking. "We've done nothing to your family."

  Looking at his skin carefully under the purple moonlight, she realised they were brown like mud.

  "So that got me thinking," he tapped the side of the unmasked part of his head. "Why then?"

  He began rubbing her owl on the back with armoured fingers.

  Charity couldn't feel them, but she knew his fingers would be slow and vile.

  "I think I might know the answer," He chimed slowly. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

  Charity didn't react to his touch. Although she was focused on discovering the technique for his veil, that didn't mean she was not listening.

  "You want me and Sadi dead," he concluded with a jeering smile. "Maybe because you fear that the Wastelands could grow stronger and that we'll threaten your tyranny. Or maybe you just don't want us to excel in the tournament."

  He shrugged and lifted his hand off the owl, and waved it dismissively.

  "Don't bother correcting me. I don't really care." He paused and continued rubbing the owl's back. "The point is, Akura Charity," he used her name, ignoring the proper decorum to address a Sage. "You can't touch us. At least not directly. If you do, the Wastelands could use that reason to declare war and create a rift between your Monarch and our Monarch's alliance."

  Emperor Naru Huei were exchanging words down below with King Dakata, yet Whitehall seemed unbothered.

  He snapped his fingers. "But you could do it indirectly. Send Underlords after us and call it training." He giggled sarcastically and raised a finger at the owl. "But you underestimated us... Underestimated us to the point where you had to drag my name through the mud and tell everyone that I intended to poison the entirety of the Seishen Kingdom's army. Brilliant plan, I must say. You increased the hostility between both sides with a single sentence."

  Charity let out a quiet breath. He was a termite. But termites, left unchecked, can rot even the strongest foundation.

  She turned her focus back to the veiling technique. His spirit was strange—not like a traditional sacred artist's veil, but like a living thing, adapting as she tried to grasp it. The longer she studied, the less sure she became of its mechanics.

  Whitehall leaned in just slightly, dropping his voice into something softer yet more cutting. "I wonder… would you have done the same to your dear little Mercy if she was not your Monarch's favourite daughter? Would she have her Lifeline torn apart by Underlords if she were just some nobody from the Wastelands? Or would she be next if she strayed too far from the family leash?"

  Charity gazed deeper into his spirit, her entire focus now on discovering the truth of his veil.

  His fingers drummed lazily on the owl's back, a slow, deliberate rhythm. "No answer? Well, I don't blame you. Wouldn't want to say something you'll regret. A single wrong word and the Akura name might not shine so brightly anymore."

  He let the silence settle between them and looked down at the battle preparations that continued below. Then he chuckled, low and full of something almost amused.

  "It's funny, isn't it? You loved to talk about the importance of family and how sending the Underlords against golds was meant to push us further. But at the end of the day, you're just a gambler playing with lives instead of chips. And here you are, watching the table, hoping the house still wins."

  He sighed dramatically. "Such a shame, really. Maybe you were hoping we'd just break under the pressure, save you the trouble of making a real move." He tapped his temple. "Or maybe you think we're too stubborn for that, and this is just another one of your little lessons—you know, 'survival of the fittest' and all that drivel."

  He was wrong about her intentions with the Aurelius's apprentices. Her family needed strong young Underlords now more than ever. But she did not correct him.

  Then, his tone dipped, almost casual. "You know what I think, Sage?" He clasped his hands together, resting them on his knee. He raised his gaze to peer in the direction of the Seishen Cloudships. "I think you underestimated us for a second time."

  Charity's focus on his veil wavered as she processed his words.

  His voice dropped even lower, just above a whisper. "You see," he began. "Power isn't gained by stepping on the weak. It is by helping them. At least, unlike you, Mercy has that going for her."

  Mercy? Her owl's gaze scanned the area for Mercy. And she found the girl flying in front of the ship on her staff. In front of everyone else, even the Emperor. She was preventing the Seishen Kingdom from attacking.

  Whitehall's fingers continued rubbing the owl again and brought his face close to its ears. "The house doesn't always win," he whispered. "Especially when you're up against cheaters."

  In the distance, two new Underlord spirits flared. Not inside her vault but in the castle where the Seishen Kingdom had stayed. Where they had stored all the treasures they had harvested from the valley,

  Her owl's head turned slowly, and its eyes met the Wasteland Poison artist's. She sent messages through her other owls to the three Seishen Underlords currently on their way to her vault. Their targets would not meet them there. They never were.

  Down below the deck, the two spirits that she thought were Wei Shi Lindon's and Yerin's disappeared.

  He had made them , she realised. He had been buying time for the real Lindon and Yerin to advance.

  He gave her owl one last condescending pat and gave her a sly smile. The same smile her grandmother would make when her arrow met its mark.

  "Enjoy the show, Akura Charity," he drawled. With the same smirk, he flicked two fingers off his brow in a lazy, half-hearted salute. "And try not to choke on it."

  Then, he fell backwards, and when Charity's owl made it to the other side of the barrel and looked down, both his spirit and his form had disappeared.

  House of Blades

  Iteration requested. Amalgam.

  Date. Denied

  Report Complete.

  Valiar slammed his blade into the massive stone he had unearthed, the force of the impact sending a sharp crack echoing through the night. His muscles burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat dripped from his brow, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Every swing of his blade was fuelled by a storm of emotions—anger, spite, and a sliver of love that refused to be extinguished.

  His Master had rejected him, treating him with cruelty more often than kindness. The others in Valinhall had barely tolerated him, their eagerness to see him gone thinly veiled behind polite smiles. Even the dolls, who were supposed to be companions, had always refused to speak to him—all except Cornelia. But even she had grown distant, her silence a heavy weight on his shoulders.

  Valiar's blade moved with precision, carving the stone into rectangular blocks of varying sizes. Efficiency was key. By his count, he still had enough time, but there was no room for error. He had to be perfect. And perfect he would be. The pace he was working at was gruelling, each movement a test of his endurance. His body screamed for rest, his mind teetered on the edge of collapse, but he pushed on. The chains of Valinhall crept further up his forearm, their cold, unyielding presence a constant reminder of the power he wielded—and the price he paid for it.

  All he could do was hold on. Just a little longer. Just a little more. The thought became a mantra, a lifeline that kept him moving, kept him fighting. The night stretched on, the moon casting its pale light over the clearing as Valiar worked, his blade flashing like a silver streak against the dark stone. Each strike was a testament to his determination, each block a step closer to the impossible task he had been set.