The swarm of silver blood-flies spiraled down, reforming in a shimmer of argent light that solidified into my form. I landed lightly outside of Master Jorun's forge. The old smith was already waiting, his thick arms folded, his beard bristling like steel shavings. Without a word, he jerked his head up to me.
"Come, boy. The time's now."
He led me through the clamor of the main forge—apprentices hammering, bellows roaring through the back of his private sanctum. This chamber was quieter, sacred. Weapons of masterwork quality lined the walls, each glowing faintly with spirit power. On the central anvil rested a small chest of blackened oak bound in gold. Jorun lifted the lid with surprising reverence.
Inside gleamed the triple triangle Tri-Emblem. Three triangles that made up one large triangle with a negative or ''inverted'' triangle space in its center. The aura rolling off it was unmistakable—Sky-grade. A perfect fusion of additive and subtractive elements. This was no simple talisman, but a living symbol of sovereignty and oath.
Jorun turned to me, his weathered face unusually grave. "Emperor Ichikawa will be arriving at any moment. You, Ashriel, will place this into his hands. Not me. Not the court. You." He pressed the emblem into my palms, and it thrummed against my skin like a living heart.
"Follow me, boy." He continued out the back of his shop to the cherry blossom garden.
I opened my mouth to reply, but the words died as a roaring sound rolled from above—like a furnace tearing through the heavens.
We stepped into the cherry blossom garden just as the fiery chariot blazed across the sky. The morning light paled against its brilliance. Four spirit horses, each wreathed in living flame, thundered through the clouds, pulling a golden chariot engulfed in crimson fire.
I felt Felicity stir in my dantian, even she sucked in a sharp breath.
The chariot descended, flames parting the blossoms in rippling waves of heat, and landed with a resounding crash that shook the earth. Petals caught fire mid-air and turned to glowing embers before winking out.
My Eye of Heaven activated unbidden, a golden screen flashing across my vision.
Inspect: Emperor Ichikawa
Power Level: Emperor Tier (exact rank obscured.)
Elemental Affinity: Fire Dominant, Secondary Metal.
Specialization: Imperial Sunfire Domain.
Weaknesses Detected: Water Qi Suppression. High-Density Frost Qi.
Combat Rating: Extreme Caution Recommended.
My breath caught. So this is what the Eye can do… Not just raw numbers, but affinities, domains, weaknesses—all laid bare. This was...priceless.
From the flaming Chariot, a towering giant of living fire stepped down. His form blazed with an almost divine heat, his eyes burning like twin furnaces. For a heartbeat, I thought this was the Emperor. But then, the figure's outline wavered. The flames peeled back like discarded armor, collapsing into sparks.
What remained was a man—compact, wiry, his movements precise as clockwork. His hair was streaked black and crimson, his gaze sharp as tempered steel.
This was Emperor Ichikawa of Mystic Central.
At his side stood a grim colossus, silent as stone. A bodyguard, draped in black plate, his very aura promising violence. His name shimmered faintly in my vision overlay: Brock.
Master Jorun dropped to one knee, his voice a thunderous rumble despite its humility. "Your Majesty."
I followed suit, lowering my head, the Tri-Emblem cradled in my palms like it might burn me if I wavered. The Emperor's steps crunched softly over the gravel as he approached, the scent of fire and steel filling the garden.
"Rise," Emperor Ichikawa said, his voice deep but controlled, like magma beneath stone.
We rose together, Jorun first, his back bowed in respect but his eyes firm as iron. I followed his lead, careful not to let the Tri-Emblem slip in my palms. The air felt heavier now, thick with heat and presence, every breath tinged with smoke.
Jorun cleared his throat, his deep voice steady. "Your Majesty honors my humble forge with his presence. The garden is yours, as is my life's work should you ask it."
A small smile, flickering like a spark, tugged at Ichikawa's lips. "Your humility does you credit, Jorun. But I have heard you are far from humble when the hammer is in your hands."
Jorun's shoulders shifted, almost a shrug. "A hammer speaks for itself, Majesty. It does not need its wielder to boast."
The Emperor's eyes narrowed—not in anger, but amusement. He stepped closer, boots crunching against fallen petals. "Yes. That is why I came here first, rather than wasting words in the palace. The Lotus King bathes me in courtesy, pours me wine, seats me among silken dancers. You…" His gaze lingered on Jorun, then shifted briefly to me, sharp as a brand. "...You give me honesty. Fire recognizes fire."
Master Jorun cleared his throat, the sound like gravel grinding in the silence.
"Emperor," he said, inclining his head just enough to show respect without groveling. "This young man is Ashriel Embercoil—perhaps the most extraordinary talent I have ever had the honor to encounter. He commands a level of mastery unlike any human living."
Jorun's eyes flicked, wary, as though naming Ash too boldly might tempt envy from heaven. Still, he pressed on, voice firm.
"It was he who single-handedly forged the Tri-Emblem."
Emperor Ichikawa, robed in indigo silk that shimmered like an ocean at midnight, leaned back slightly. His eyes—dark, fathomless—traced the length of Ashriel as though measuring a blade fresh from the forge. The silence stretched.
I felt it then, a subtle weight pressing against my crystal bones, a brush of invisible fingers sliding along the threads of my spirit. My breath tightened in my chest. The Emperor's spiritual sense was probing me—not with crude force, but with the practiced delicacy of a master disassembling a lock.
Ichikawa's expression brightened. A spark, sharp and delighted, flashed across his features.
"Yes. Yes!" His voice was smooth, carrying the kind of authority that made rooms bow instinctively. "You are worthy indeed!"
Emperor Ichikawa's laughter boomed like rolling thunder. With a flick of his wrist, a scroll tied in golden thread appeared in his palm. He extended it toward Jorun, the wax seal glowing faintly with imperial sigils.
"For finding this exceptional young man," the Emperor declared, "consider this my gratitude."
Jorun blinked, wide-eyed, before gingerly accepting the scroll. He cracked the seal, and his breath caught. It was a land deed—an estate nestled in the Ten-Thousand Hills of Mystic Central, the most coveted countryside in the empire. Rolling vineyards, crystalline rivers, and mansions that brushed the clouds.
The old master blacksmith's weathered hands trembled as he clutched the scroll to his chest. His lips parted, but no words came, only a choked laugh of disbelief. Retirement had always been a distant dream. Now, he could see it—the gentle slopes, the blossom groves, the peace.
Tears pricked his eyes as he bowed low. "Your Majesty… I can finally lay down my hammer in the land of paradise. My gratitude is eternal."
Ichikawa merely waved a hand, dismissing the words with a grin. "Nonsense. It is I who should be grateful. You have delivered me a treasure beyond measure."
He took one measured step forward, hands folded inside his sleeves.
"Ashriel Embercoil—will you return with me to Mystic Central, to vie for the greatest treasure in the land?"
The room seemed to contract around me. The words hung in the air like a guillotine's blade.
For a moment, I said nothing. I considered. I could feel the threads of fate moving, my path was forking here—home and duty in the Beast Continent on one side, the glittering unknown of Mystic Central on the other.
Inside my spiritual dantian, Felicity's voice rang out like a silver bell, bright and insistent.
"Aww heck, go for it! Ashwin can hold things down here—this is our chance to explore a new world!"
A smile curled across my lips. The decision crystallized. I raised my chin, meeting the Emperor's gaze without flinching.
"Yes," I said. "I will return with you, my liege."
"Excellent, we leave at once! No time to dawdle—come, come!" Emperor Ichikawa clapped his hands together, motioning me toward the fiery chariot waiting outside, its fiery steeds pawing at the air with impatient snorts. Brock fell in step behind us, his hulking frame a silent shadow.
I gave one last glance over my shoulder at the Lotus Palace in the distance. Far above, on a balcony of the palace, Ashwin stood at the balustrade, gaze fixed eastward—toward where his twin's presence lingered, now slowly drifting further and further away. His chest was tight, though his face betrayed only calm.
Marla drifted up beside him, her steps light. Her bond with him was sharp enough to sense the change in his emotional flux. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"What's wrong?"
Ashwin forced a small smile, shaking his head. "Nothing's wrong. Before you arrived, my brother and I completed a forging project for the Emperor of Mystic Central. Today, emperor Ichikawa himself came for it. He's offered to take Ashriel—and by extension Felicity—with him, back to his homeland, to grant his reward."
Marla's lips parted, then curved into a delighted grin. She twirled once on her heel, her laughter like a spark against the night air.
"That's great news! That means…" She leaned in close, eyes glittering, "We get the entire Beast Vein Continent to ourselves."
Ashwin chuckled despite himself, caught off guard by her brazen joy. "Only you would see it that way."
Marla strutted forward, bold as ever, her hips swaying until she pressed against him. Her arms looped around his neck, and she kissed his cheek with the certainty of someone who had already decided the future.
"Smart cookie," she purred, kissing his lips. "This is definitely for the best, my love."
Ashwin closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her embrace steady the storm within.