Lady Ryka stood with the other adepts of Black Rock in a solemn line, all behind the imposing figure of Highlord Varis, whose arms were folded in front of him. Behind them, every available ranker within the settlement stood dressed in black robes, their gazes fixed on the horizon. Large banners flapped in the wind, emblazoned with the words "Black Rock" in stark white letters.

  The anticipated day had arrived, as Varis had informed her of the imminent arrival of the branch family. They had scrambled to prepare accommodations and a modest feast. Clad in the finest attire they could muster, Ryka stared with bated breath at the horizon, wondering what the day would bring. Beside her, Wren stood, seemingly unperturbed by the situation.

  The settlement had been cleaned to the best of their abilities, resembling a lesser sect. Wren found it amusing, even as the disciples regarded him as "Venerable Adept Wren," a title he found tiresome. Still, Ryka felt a surge of pride, having risen from a stewardess of a minor house to the de facto leader of an entire settlement.

  Varis stirred for the first time, prompting Ryka to stand taller, as did the others. "They are here," he said, though nothing was visible on the horizon yet.

  Sighing, he added, "And they brought trouble along with them."

  Ryka snapped her hand fan shut, and the cannons on the walls powered up. Varis waved his hand lazily. "Don't. They're more than capable of dealing with whatever troubles they brought along," he said.

  Ryka nodded, reopening the fan, and the cannons powered down. A black speck appeared in the distance, surrounded by tiny forms—rift creatures. What surprised her more were the small figures floating through the air, clashing with the creatures.

  "Are those lords?" Wren mumbled.

  Varis sighed again. "This is becoming rather troublesome."

  As the sky vessel drew closer, its large form blotting out the sun and casting a deep shadow, Ryka marveled at the sight. Three lords—two male and one female—battled the tier-four creatures assaulting the ship. The lady, dressed in light pink robes with black hair flowing behind her, wielded a blade surrounded by dancing pink rose petals that cut through the creatures.

  Her movements were sublime, her blade carving through the creatures effortlessly; the petals around her created a whirlwind of continuous damage. Ryka’s gaze shifted to the second lord, clad in sky-blue robes, wielding the element of wind. Each strike released mini hurricanes, crushing the creatures. The third lord, in grey robes, wielded lightning, turning the creatures to charred remnants with blistering speed.

  The rankers of Black Rock saw only flashes of power in the air, aura flaring with perfectly honed techniques. Varis released his hands, and the skies darkened as the smell of smoke and rain filled the air. Ryka turned her gaze upwards, aware of the Highlord’s rising power, his aura radiating scorching fury. He rose to the sky, gathering his aura as the vessel approached.

  "Clear the area," he commanded. The lords vanished as the vessel was cocooned in a wall of black fire and lightning, incinerating the creatures instantly. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air as the ship descended, Varis accompanying it to the ground.

  As the great sky vessel of the Talahan clan descended upon the border settlement, its imposing silhouette cast a shadow over the land. The air hummed with anticipation as the rankers of Black Rock gathered to witness the arrival of their esteemed guests.

  With a soft whirr of gears and creaking wood, the vessel gently touched down, nearly dwarfing the settlement walls. Towering masts reached toward the sky, adorned with banners bearing the Talahan clan's emblem—a large black cloud with white lightning bolts.

  As the gangplank descended, Varis hissed in barely concealed surprise and irritation. "Rhaelar," he muttered, eyeing the procession descending from the vessel.

  Rhaelar Talahan, an esteemed master of the clan, was the first to emerge. Clad in a regal black robe trimmed with gold, she stepped forward with dignified grace. Her presence commanded attention, and the crowd fell silent in reverence.

  Behind her, a procession of Talahan warriors emerged, their black armor gleaming in the sunlight. Each bore the Talahan crest on their breastplates, symbols of unwavering loyalty to the empire and clan. The sound of drums filled the air as the warriors marched in unison, stopping a few meters from Varis before dropping to their knees.

  "WE PAY OUR RESPECTS TO THE HIGHLORD!" they roared.

  Varis barely nodded; his eyes fixed on his sister. According to Ryka's sparse information, this was no branch family but a direct descendant of the clan's core. She hid her frown, bowing as the others did.

  “It is nice to see you, elder sister,” Varis said calmly, his displeasure evident.

  Rhaelar laughed, hugging him. “It is good to see you too, brother. Are these our newest vassals?” she asked, her tone playful.

  Ryka hid her surprise and pleasure, aware that the lady might just be toying with them. “We greet the esteemed master of the Talahan clan,” she said, the rest echoing her words.

  Rhaelar turned back to Varis. “Come, we have much to discuss,” she said. Varis barely nodded. She turned to her troops as the three lords appeared behind her.

  “Oh, before I forget, three great clans of the capital sent their young ones to gain experience at the borders of our empire,” she said.

  Varis glanced at them as they knelt, heads bowed, fists to palms. “We greet the esteemed Highlord!” they said.

  Rhaelar pointed at the female in pink. “Emi of the Cheng clan,” she began, then moved to the two male cultivators. “Wol of the Huang clan and Chun of the Zhang clan.”

  “Enjoy your stay here,” Varis replied simply.

  They bowed again, leaving Ryka with them as Varis and his sister entered the settlement, the rest trailing behind.

  ****************************

  Tunde kept his awareness sharp as he trailed behind the adept, despite Miria’s carefree demeanor. Signs of fatigue were evident in the adept’s form, and she sometimes stumbled, slowing Tunde and Miria’s pace. After a while, Tunde raised his hand, signalling them to pause as he noticed movement in the distance. He crouched, Miria moving to his side, with the barbarian woman, Sera, behind him.

  Keenly aware of her presence, he whispered to Miria, “Possible forces ahead.”

  Glancing at the barbarian woman, he asked, “How close are we?”

  Sera squinted, turning her gaze skyward before responding in her rough version of the common tongue, “A few more hours.”

  Tunde frowned and turned back to Miria. “Possible forces of the king, Kugan maybe.”

  Miria scanned the area. “No cover as far as I can see. They’ll spot us from afar.”

  He nodded. “Sera,” Miria whispered.

  “What?” Tunde asked.

  “Her name, Sera,” Miria replied.

  Tunde resisted the urge to glance at her. “Oh, alright.”

  “She’s loud and clear with me, but with you, she seems quiet, almost reverent, cautious even,” Miria added, puzzled.

  “To be honest, I’d prefer it that way,” he said, moving again.

  “You don’t like her,” Miria observed, matching his speed as she tossed Sera an endurance elixir, which the muscular woman downed in one gulp with a nod of appreciation.

  “It wasn’t long ago that I was to be nothing but a meal to her kind. Befriending one would be foolish,” Tunde replied.

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  Miria sighed and turned to Sera. “Do you eat people?” she asked.

  Sera paused, confused, before realizing what was being asked. “No, fresh meat in creatures of the sands, enough meat to feed entire people,” she explained.

  Tunde rolled his eyes as Miria gestured at him. “He was almost eaten by some people like you,” she said.

  Understanding dawned on Sera’s face as she looked Tunde over. “He does look—”

  “No, no way, that’s it,” Tunde interjected, cutting her off as Miria guffawed.

  “We’re wasting time. We need to push on,” Tunde said as Miria’s shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter.

  Opening his void space, Tunde retrieved a sword and tossed it to Sera, who caught it and tested its weight with a swing. Satisfied, Tunde drew Midnight from his void space, and they pressed forward, skirting the encampment to avoid detection. They made good time toward the hideout Sera directed them to, but Tunde paused as they neared, sensing something amiss. Ethra sight revealed a blood aura filling the entire area.

  Sera froze, sensing it as well, and dashed forward. Tunde hissed in annoyance. Something or someone was there, and she had just revealed their location. He shot forward, flashing past her as a figure appeared, human in shape with killing intent that crippled Sera before it reached her. Midnight flashed in Tunde’s hand, striking at the figure, who retreated in the blink of an eye, dodging the attack.

  Tunde’s aura expanded around Sera as Miria caught up. He stared at the blood-soaked figure, once a barbarian, now a grotesque mix of reptile and human, not even worthy to be called Corespawn. Sera stumbled to a halt next to him, her eyes widening in anguish.

  “What did they do to you?” she whispered.

  The creature growled; its jaw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Sera’s aura flared, blood Ethra exuding from her body as her muscles enlarged in rage. She shot at the creature, Tunde holding Miria back as she tried to intervene. Staring at him in alarm, she was ignored as Tunde watched Sera swing her blade, crudely attacking with blood Ethra.

  The creature ignored its rapidly healing wound, claws raking across Sera’s chest, spilling blood as she stumbled backward. Still swinging her blade, her body healed enough to keep her in the fight, but not enough to overpower the creature. When Sera was close to being overpowered, Tunde stepped in, delivering an imbued punch to the creature’s chest, sending it crashing into the wreckage of a once-settlement, torn bodies strewn everywhere.

  Glancing at Sera, who breathed heavily and swayed on her feet, Tunde turned back to the creature struggling to stand, its baleful yellow eyes fixed on him. His Ethra sight revealed its insides—a roughly meshed core in its chest, pulsing with a sinister Ethra.

  Covering his arm with aura, Tunde shot forward, dodging the creature’s talons and punching through its chest. Grabbing the core, he yanked it out, causing the creature to mewl in agony. Sera scrambled to its side as it whispered her name before going limp, her scream of anguish echoing to the skies.

  Tunde held the beating core, veins, and mismatched muscles attached. He turned his gaze to the horizon, seeing something approaching through the storm. “We’ve given away our position!” he shouted to Miria, who grabbed Sera and pulled her to her feet.

  “Control yourself,” Tunde barked at Sera.

  She glanced at him, her grip tightening on her blade. Tunde knew she wasn’t thinking straight, but he had just saved her from certain death. As something flew toward them, Miria’s whip blade intercepted it. Sera turned and shot toward the direction it came from, Tunde blinking incredulously. They should be retreating, not heading into danger. Miria glanced at him with a worried expression.

  “You know our orders!” he said.

  She shot forward, her whip-blade flashing as she followed Sera. With a snarl, Tunde threw the organ into his void ring, the dead body following. Ethra sight revealed Corespawns led by a lord-tier Corespawn riding a flying creature. Tunde felt a bad omen but cycled his Ethra through Midnight, preparing for battle.

  *********************************************

  Varis sat with his sister in his quarters, a table between them filled with steaming spicy tea, a specialty she had brought from the empire itself. He watched as she poured him a cup, then one for herself. With his arms folded, he quietly sifted through his thoughts, choosing his words with care.

  "I can see you mulling over those thoughts of yours, little brother," Rhaelar said, a slight smile playing on her lips.

  Varis chewed on his words before replying, "Just surprised to see you. I didn't think Father would let you out of his sight."

  She chuckled softly, sipping her tea with a contented sigh. "It was either me or Mother. With the encroachment of the technocracy, she was needed more."

  Varis paused; his surprise evident. "Does that mean the clan considers this king a minor threat?"

  Rhaelar's grey eyes bore into him, a wrinkle of amusement on her forehead. "You know better than to think we ever took it seriously," she said. "But it's surprising to see you do."

  Varis dropped his cup, staring at the ornate wooden table she had also brought along. Rhaelar had been born within the imperial clan itself, trained by their uncle, and if rumors were true, their grandfather and the patriarch of the clan himself. Once the brightest star of the clan, she had been the future until he was born.

  Varis knew blood from birth, having been born during the poison sect rebellion. His mother, a master even then, had been ordered to quell it. Five poison sects had united to remove the Talahan clan and other lesser sects around the central plains.

  It had been a decade of upheaval and bloodshed, during which he was born. Watching his sister rise to prominence under their father's and uncle's watchful eyes, she had doted on him, perhaps too much in his opinion. Now, Rhaelar Talahan was a disaster no one wanted to draw attention from. That she was sent here was a statement in itself from the clan.

  "You wanted a weapon; we've given you one of our best."

  Varis wasn't sure if he should feel elated or insulted by the clan's decision. On one hand, they considered him important enough to send his sister, who had advanced to master realm. But Varis had achieved the same, from lord to Highlord in a matter of weeks, thanks to the heavenly steel elixir. It had placed him in debt to the branch heads of the clan, but it was worth it. He could advance to master rank today without suffering backlash, provided he could face the heavenly crucible and survive it without damaging his core.

  "We’ve neglected the borders for so long that things have gone upside down," he said, turning to her. "Do you know that cultivation here has become broken? So much so that most of the knowledge has been lost?"

  Rhaelar sighed. "The deal was that the Verdan clan would have supreme control and authority over these parts along with the mountain sects and the other three lesser clans."

  "The Verdan clan twisted history, claiming they and the three lesser clans were the four most important clans of the empire," Varis continued.

  Rhaelar froze, her aura stilling as Varis went on. "Over time, the cultivation arts were boiled down to simply accumulating Ethra. Even the knowledge of greater affinities and concepts is lost to them. I doubt they know what essence flames are. They even believe the patriarch was a master who somehow controls an entire half-continent. The stupidity of it baffles me."

  "That is indeed bad," Rhaelar replied, her face a stone mask. "What do you suggest?"

  Varis knew that tone—cautious as she picked her words carefully, her innocent look almost deceiving. "Request more involvement by the empire in the border, perhaps settle more branch sects here to bring back some semblance of civilization."

  "Oh, I agree. You look so thin; what have they been feeding you?" she said sarcastically.

  "I'm serious, sister," he said.

  She sighed. "The truth, brother, is that the clan could care less what happens here."

  "Only that it doesn’t fall into the hands of the greater clans, I believe?" Varis added as she nodded.

  "Then why did you bring along their whelps?" he asked.

  The three lords accompanying her were the children from three of the greater clans of the empire.

  "I couldn’t necessarily say no to them, now could I? Besides, they still nurture the hope that you would take one of them in as your disciple," she said with a chuckle. "Not that I see what they fancy in you."

  "As compared to when you threw an adept into a battle of Highlords and told him to meditate on what he saw?" Varis asked, a quirk on his lips.

  "Nothing better than learning in battle. It was how I advanced," she replied.

  "True, except you had the entire guardians of the clan behind you, ensuring Mother's flame flower didn’t scar," he teased.

  She narrowed her eyes. "Mother only instructed me not to die; anything else was fine with her."

  "Except Dad went around threatening every single sect you faced to play fair," Varis said with a chuckle.

  "What can I say? Dad loves me," she said with a sigh.

  And then she had proceeded to kill off the heirs of those sects, sending their decapitated heads back home, much to their father's delight. Sometimes Varis wondered if he had been born into the right family.

  He sighed. "They sent them here to observe what possible threats or allies they could find."

  "Indeed, and we would indulge them. That’s why that lord of yours is more important than anything now," Rhaelar said.

  Varis faced her. "You can’t be serious," he said, his tone incredulous. "You want a half-baked lord, who I polished up a bit because I was bored, to go up against the heirs of the greater clans of the empire?"

  "Yes," she nodded.

  "Why didn’t you bring along any of our lords then?" he asked.

  "You know the answer to that, brother. I grow tired of this," she said.

  "Barring the clan not affording to pick sides, this settlement, Black Rock, could barely be called a lesser sect, and you want to throw them to the jaws of monsters?" he added.

  "Either that, or we watch as one of the clans gains a foothold behind us. The Verdan clan was rough, brutish, and malleable, but they were ours," she started. "The Acacia clan is suspected of dealings with one of the ice kingdoms on the other side of the world. The Briar clan doesn’t have the reach to open another settlement here, and the Thoren clan has always maintained some form of neutrality."

  Varis nodded, understanding dawning on him. "That’s why they sent me here. Not to quell the revenants or see to the subjugation of the king; those were foregone conclusions."

  Facing her, he spoke, "You wanted me to raise a sect."

  "The clan could only move under the pretext of war with the borderlands and wastelands, something the clans might suspect but have no reason to involve themselves in. Now that a request for reinforcements has been made, they see it as an opportunity to closely monitor what is happening," Rhaelar explained.

  "But to send their heirs—isn't that too ruthless?" he said.

  She laughed. "The central plains, heartlands, and capital have always been places of blood. The clans are old, and they can make more heirs."

  Varis stared at his cup. "I sent him into the wastelands to spy on the forces of the king, to see just what we’re up against."

  "Then I hope for his sake that he comes back alive. The fate of all those within the settlement lies in his hands," Rhaelar replied as Varis frowned.