Metaworld Chronicles

Tianjin Tower.

Launch bay.

Strands of shivering energy, barely visible to the mortal eye but bright as lumens to the trained Diviner, tethered the hovering mass of Tianjin's Tower to the city's two-dozen Shielding Stations.

Shaped like a horse-hair calligraphic pen, the Tower was the final symbol of the cooperation between China and a yet-to-collapse USSR, a last harrumph before the gradual decay and loss of greater Russia to the Undead hordes.

Shimmering with mana, the Tower now played its part as envisioned by its creators, an insurmountable barrier against the city's northern invaders.

"Anyone seen Lulu?" Gwen asked while her war party underwent final preparations.

Her immediate enterprise, aided by Petra, was drawing a Summoning Mandala that would bring Golos from Shalkar.

"She'll be along shortly, I imagine," Richard spoke as he invoked the incantations to change the leather armour from loose to form-fitting. After six months of fighting the Undead daily, the Dwarven artisans of the Royal Raven had enchanted specific sets of equipment for its human crew, a dozen of which was kept by Gwen for private use. "After all, she's a student of Ryxi. Ayxin's safety is far more important to her than the folks here. I am more surprised she isn't fussing over your safety for once."

"Or maybe she's gone to find Kusu?" Petra shrugged. "He's the overseer of one of Shanghai's militia groups now, right? Here isn't Shalka. She's got family here."

"Maybe. Either way, I am sure she'll be along shortly." Gwen then allowed her thoughts to slip from their Sword Mage companion.

Below their privately walled changing station, her Uncle Jun had also finished donning the suits she provided, together with three Mage Flights of his old comrades who had been given the same rare equipment. With the Positive Energy conduits for self-healing, fortification, and innate shielding provided by Dwarven Runescript, even a regular Magus could fight toe-to-toe with the oceanic zombies.

"You think the local militia can hold out?" Petra glanced over at the vista of the city below. Parts of supply had been restored to the city's nerve centres, and more were coming online every minute. "They're trained to fight zombies, but this is something else entirely."

The problem, Gwen understood very well, was the same as Auckland's Militia. While Mermen and Undead were the most common foes, the combination of the two brought new challenges in the form of size and numbers, ranging from the un-killable humanoid Cephalopod-kin to cruiser-sized Krakens made fearless by a supernatural thirst for the living.

Not to mention, the Mermen were merely a problem she would help to divert—the immediate, white-hot threat was the Fire Elementals, whose responsibility fell upon her uncle's matching elemental attribute.

"If the shielding holds up," Richard reminded them. "There won't be that many to fight at once. We're focusing on keeping those that slip through at bay—not fighting the entire Shoal through head-hunting tactics. In a week or so, once the city is largely evacuated, maybe one of the PLA's Magi will conjure a Meteor Shower over the bay."

"Agreed, it's only now that the crisis is at its worst," Gwen concurred. "Once the capital cities can shore up their forces and return the citizens to their homes, we'll be golden."

"Do you think this is aimed at you?" Petra's trained paranoia raised a point her cousin had previously intimated. "You're the one who cleansed Shenyang. And you took care of a Lich. That's halfway to having a Magi as KIA. If the Mageocracy had lost a Magi in a foreign campaign like Pyongyang, they would start a full-scale war."

"I am not discounting the possibility." Gwen felt her head throb. "And if this is Spectre, as Ollie said, they must hate my guts something serious, considering our involvement with Tryfan."

"Or maybe it's a two-for-one?" Richard snickered. "Aunt Ayxin's wedding, Uncle Jun, and you. That's a good deal, no matter how you look at it. Keep your Contingency Rings primed, Gwen. No telling if Sobel is waiting out there, sharpening a Morden's Blade."

Gwen looked at her cousin. Her cousin smiled back, revealing a set of perfectly pearly teeth.

Ding—

"Gwen—" The Message was from her uncle below. "You ready?"

"I'll be done in a dozen," She replied. "Where are you headed?"

"Northward to Tangshan," her uncle replied. "You should reinforce Bohai Bay, where the Undead will slip through the Laochaowan desalination Reservoir. The Tower's main forces will focus on evacuation while we keep the leaders of the incursion distracted."

"Understood—but don't stray too far, Uncle," she warned her saviour. "And don't push yourself. You're not in your thirties anymore."

"Ha! I'll be in contact," her uncle replied, then stepped into the regional teleportation circles that would shoot them northward some thirty kilometres to the outer Districts.

"Think he'll be alright?" Gwen worriedly asked her cousins, her hands working as fast as she could keep her mana conduits steady.

"Why would he not be?" Petra finished an inscription without breaking concentration. "Uncle Jun is, by all measurements, a better Battle Mage than you, merely without the artillery capacity of Master Shultz. Besides, if you consider Lady Ayxin's blessings and the PLA's focus on keeping him alive, he's more liable to survive than any of us—"

"That's… reassuring." Gwen soothed herself with Petra's comforting words, then turned her mind to her new duty. Despite the Shielding Station's shimmering efforts, Mermen were slipping through the barriers. In the instance of "living" Mermen, the disruption of their Core would imply a reduced threat. Comparatively, even with cracked Cores, the Undead would not relent in their mindless assault on living beings until their Negative Energies were drained or released.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—

The roar of Golem artillery from the Shen-Zhang MK III's man-made spell blades roared, though possessing only a fraction of the power offered by the genuine Dwarven article. In an organised defence, the infamous mass brought to bear by the Chinese military would be a sight to behold. Unfortunately, what Golems could be brought out of storage and armed in an hour was wildly insufficient.

Gwen stepped back, materialising crates of HDMs into the feeder Glyph of the enormous Mandala. For a creature like Golos to be attuned to the Tower's Divination, such a ritual and its cost in precious materials had to be repeated every time her Planar Ally was summoned.

Momentarily, the platform flared a brilliant silver, drawing every eye from the launch deck as its cargo materialised into the majestic form of a western Thunder Dragon with overlapping cobalt scales and a scintillating crest of vibrant feathers from the base of its enormous skull.

"O Dragon!"

"Aid us, Lord Dragon!"

"The Yinglong be praised!"

Someone applauded, and then inexplicably, the rest of the crew joined in a communal display of praise for the descended Dragon amongst them.

"Calamity!" Golos, the scion of the Yinglong, shook off the excess mana cascading down his flank like snow dust. "How dare these blasphemous cultists to disrupt Ayxin's wedding! I was watching the show with Phalera and the kids!"

"This isn't your regular cultists, it's Spectre, or so I am told," Gwen transmitted what information she possessed through the Empathic Link. "I don't need you here, Golos—instead, I have a much more important job for you?"

The Dragon craned his neck.

"Protect Uncle Jun with every bone in your body, as much mana as you need to spend, spare no expense other than to stay alive. You know how important he is to Ayxin."

The Dragon bobbed its enormous head. "I know. Ruxin told me of this long ago."

"Ruxin?" Gwen looked the Dragon up and down as she searched her memories. "He predicted this?"

"He said that it was Father's will." Her creature huffed. "He said that I would receive an opportunity if I served as your Planar Ally."

The ex-Wyvern looked smug.

"Wow, that was a long time ago—" Gwen patted the enormous chest of her Dragon, feeling the numbness in her fingers as electricity arced between them, linking her Astral Soul to her tyrannical, talking lizard. "And now's the time to put that boon to work. Can you find Uncle Jun?"

"I can smell his Ash from here."

"Good." Gwen gave the Dragon a push. "Hop along and keep Jun safe. We'll all share a Dwarven pint once this is over, eh? Gogo?"

The Dragon lowered its majestic head until it was eye-level with her face.

"It's Uncle Golos…"

"What?" Gwen reeled from the Dragon's rotten-meat breath.

"I am Ayxin's brother. She's your Aunt…" Golos huffed in her face until her eyes watered. "I am now your Uncle Golos, Calamity."

Gwen stifled an urge to kick the slitted iris with her claw heel. Try as she might, her lips refused to make the necessary sound.

Chuckling with the deep rumble of distant thunder, the Dragon slid from the platform, causing the metal to creak and spark before slipping into the air like liquid mercury.

"Right—" Gwen allowed the tailwind to lift her crow-skinned self into the air. She waved to the audience below, hoping to lend them some of her optimism. "Richard, Petra, with me. Same as always, folks. Let's start with a nice long trench along the city's north where our fishy friends can all gather.

Percy Song materialised in the Tianjin Tower, holding a gash deep enough in his sides to reveal a stick of rib.

What he acutely felt, however, was not the sharp, stinging pain of sliced flesh burning with the Faith-fuelled aura of Sir Mathias' wrath—but the emptiness of that which had laid against his chest since the day his sister gave up her claim.

"Magus Song!" the Tower's healers were upon him before he had struck the floor, their wands already expending the Healing Words used to stifle his bleeding.

"Patch me up! Give me the maximum alchemical dosage." He coughed a mouthful of ruby blood as his lungs cleared of fluids. Seeing the other nurses and physicians approach, he waved them away. "Enough. I need to return to the fight."

"Is it that bad out there?" One of the healers, a young woman, did not think twice before overruling her supervisor and materialising an upper-tier injector. Percy did not know the woman, but from her overt familiarity, he could tell she likely recognised him from the Lumen-caster.

"There's far worse than just Undead and Mermen out there." Percy winced as the healing took place. The senior Healer glanced at the injector but said nothing. Percy nodded back. After all, he was the nephew of Jun Song and now the Dragon Princess Ayxin. Who were they to deny a mere upper-tier injector, especially when he was fighting on their behalf? "I am on a mission for Aunt Ayxin. Though I doubt anyone would enquire, please keep my presence discrete. And another thing. If Cadet Mei Yang should ask for me, inform them I have joined the fight outside."

"Yessir!" The two healers saluted as he stood, then stumbled past the infirmary into the belly of Tianjin Tower's pocket-space interior.

Having served almost six-months in the city, he knew the Tower's layout well enough to meander his way through the network of tunnels and corridors for the exterior exit.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Red hot Glyphs continued to ping for his attention.

As he passed a communal corridor, he carefully removed the Message Band from his wrist and deposited it into a change room used by the crew, ensuring its broadcasts were still alive. Deeper, when he reached the lower belly of the Tower's tree trunk structure, he removed his spent Contingency Ring, depositing it into a garbage chute.

His final destination was a breaching chamber used to escape the Tower in a catastrophic failure of its levitation systems. Here, the Mandala provided would wormhole back into the reality of space-time outside.

Self-assured of his safety, Percy Song took a long, deep breath to calm his trembling fingers.

The FAITH WITCH. He could not believe that she was after his amulet this entire time. To think that he had imagined himself acting in secrecy, only for the Dragon tribe to be watching him—watching his heirloom all along.

But his Yeye had explicitly stated that their family had always had access to the amulet—that dozens of generations of Songs had pulled the family through every crisis through its boon. When Uncle Jun returned from investigating their ancestral home, he had also informed Percy that it was safe to use the amulet, though its other half, when his life ended, would go to Gwen.

He had felt rather strongly about that.

So why were the Dragons after the amulet now?

Why were they after him, specifically?

The answer—he knew, was beyond obvious.

His sister was the Dragon's Vessel.

She was the one who invited the Yinglong to sit among them, to introduce Ayxin to Jun, and to reveal the secrecy of the Kirin's revival. Naturally, Gwen had asked the Faith Witch to be the Yinglong's Vessel.

It was all for his sister's ascension—and now he was again paying the consequence.

Well, she must be happy now.

His amulet was gone, gifted temporarily to Mei in the small chance that borrowing his unborn nephew's Essence may still be possible.

Without the amulet, he felt wrong, like a man with a missing organ, haunted by the nagging doubt that his stolen kidney was more important than he was led to believe.

Vessel...

The voice of the Kirin Amulet, now no longer against his chest, was like a fading echo. But he was the Vessel now, just like his sister, and that blasted blonde Cleric, Vessel to the Yinglong.

"What is it?" Percy felt the chill from the Kirin Soul's necrotic presence like a sliver of ice buried in his spine.

Mei Yang is dead. My flesh is now inert.

Percy's hand halted on the activation-Glyph.

"They…" his breath suddenly came in rags. "They did what?"

The Dragons murdered her in cold blood, the voice reported without emotion, as though he was talking about the unusually cold autumn.

"Jesus alive… Mei…” Percy felt as though suddenly underwater. He had imagined they would arrest Mei, but to kill her outright? "She's dead?"

Mei. His Mei. His dear Mei. His high school sweetheart. His future wife. He didn't know if he truly loved her—he was a young man and did not know what it meant to love a woman, at least not like in the novels. Mei was beautiful, resourceful, useful and obedient, but was that love?

Percy could taste iron in his mouth. He wanted to teleport back. He desired to smash the Cleric's face and drain her vitality until she was an empty husk.

Stop. The iron voice from the Kirin Soul commanded. There is much more you must do.

"I know," Percy spoke to the shadows, his emotions rapidly cooling from boiling point to lukewarm alarm as Elemental Salt circulated through his conduits. Unlike Ash or Dust, he could not use the Negative Energy to tame his rioting emotions, but the exercise helped keep his mind collected while facing dire dangers.

With an audible force that announced his frustration, he placed his hand against the security Glyph of the breaching chamber, feeding it the counter Glyphs only important individuals highly trusted by the Tower would know. Of course, he was such a trusted one. By his request, Tianjin's Tower Master had granted him an upper-rank privilege, believing that one day, the nephew of the Dragon Princess would do wonders for his late-life career in the Party's inner circles.

He did not know how much the Kirin Soul had foreseen, but this was his ordeal and opportunity to ascend. His plan had originally been to slowly work his way into the Party's circles of Mages in Tianjin so that he would one day come to govern the city as his Magister's assignment.

Now, he must harness the Essence, or what's left of it, from the Kirin tribe's ancient devices before the Undead could dig in their claws, tentacles or flippers.

As for the siege—it was a strange feeling—to relive Sydney so vividly, only this time, he was not a faceless, nameless being caught in the undertow, but one seeking his destiny in the throes of mortal danger.

Would saviour Gwen save the day again? He pondered the battle outside, now roaring with the sound of fire and water clashing in cataclysmic meetings. He could feel the presence of a Dragon named Golos, whose thunderous mana could be felt through the tremors of the Tower's spatial shielding.

How pleased she must feel. Percy felt his mouth mutter the words. How easy it must have been for the Dragon's Vessels to slay Mei even as she lay helpless.

The Glyph unlocked.

Percy Song's upright figure shimmered silver—then he was out.

By the time Elvia and her Knights arrived at Tianjin Tower's ISTC node, there was no longer enough fanfare present to lick the boot of the Yinglong's blonde-haired Vessel.

In place of the usual Magister and Magus, or perhaps Tower Master Wong himself, Acolytes with freshly awed faces ushered Knight Protectors and their ward toward the launch bays where the Tower's forces oversaw the city's defence.

At the bustling launch bay, she was greeted by the familiar sound of pure panic intermingled with bravado, chorused by the shouts of sergeants kicking men into line for the feeders. She needed to find Percy—but the chaos of the Tower's interior left little doubt that Percy was taking full advantage of the anarchy.

In the direction of a higher platform, she sensed the lingering mana presence of Golos, whose Lightning motes permeated the walls like a stench.

"I'll fetch someone useful," Mathias remarked at the organised chaos below the entry deck.

Thankfully, despite the turmoil, a Magister at the rank of Major was there to question their presence in this time of the city's great need.

"Lord Vessel." The impatient Magister's face noted he had somewhere else to be. "What is your desire?"

"I am looking for Percy Song, nephew to Lord Jun." Elvia bowed her head slightly. "He may have snuck out against the Lord Regent and his grandfather's wishes to participate in the combat below. We're all worried for his safety."

The lie stung like a swollen abscess. Unlike Elvia's Knight Protectors, the Companion was not sworn to the Oath of Truth, a peculiarity of their profession as medical practitioners, whose care for patients and families necessitated false hope and feigned empathy.

"Oh…" The man appeared confused by their request. "I'll ask the Divination Tower. One moment."

The gruelling seconds passed like the waiting anticipation of a needle resting against one's vein.

"He's in the subbasement infirmary… oh no." The Magister raised both brows as he read the invisible Message. "He's… wounded? Received healing…, and he's now somewhere in the Tower's internal chambers. His Message Device reads subbasement G-12-44… although He is not answering the Message."

Elvia and the Knights regarded one another.

"Do we find him?" Sir Kass volunteered. "If he is in the Tower… we should not leave him unattended."

"You and Mathias should observe from outside the Tower, over the city," Sir Reginal offered his sword pommel. "Kass and I will track down his signal here in the Tower, and if we find him..."

"Umm…" the Magister raised a hand. "Is Magus Song in trouble?"

"Not at all." Elvia forced a smile that she hoped was sweet enough to convince. "It's just that Mistress Ayxin is not very happy with his absence."

"Ah—" The Magister gave her a bow. "My condolences."

"We can only obey the Yinglong's will," Elvia assured the man. "Can you assign aides to my men?"

The Magister summoned a few of the Acolytes, additionally gifting them a jade Glyph that would allow access to the Tower's lower levels.

"Right, then we'll be off," her Knight Protectors delivered a half salute. "Take care, Companion Lindholm. Mathias, we leave her in your hands."

"She'll be safe with me." Her Knight Protector clanged his gauntlet against his ceremonial breastplate; one ornate enough to impress a national Lumen broadcast. "On my life."

With her two Protectors gone on their separate duties, Elvia invoked the Flight magic sewn into her Genymade's Winged Boots, a part of the preparations she had readied for this day. Together with Mathias, they dropped from the Tower's bay and fell half the length of its spire before allowing the wind to take them toward the well-lit bay, where spellfire intermittently revealed the progress of the battlefront.

To the northeast, in the direction of Tangshan, the mountain was a flaming heap of smoke-choked rubble and soot. Above, with its lightning-charged body bright as a beacon, a Thunder Dragon patrolled the skies. At a distance of almost thirty kilometres away, Elvia could not see the participants engaged in the dance of destruction—yet the wind was hot with violence, textured with the unique stench of volcanic sulphur.

"The smoke is thick with Elemental Fire," Mathias remarked. "What's over there?"

"The Elemental Prince Zodiam, an old foe of our Order," she said to Mathias. "And Lord Jun is battling him, as in my visions."

"The Worshippers of Juche has found an unfortunate confluence of unlikely allies." her Knight Protector gritted his teeth. "Perhaps, the Ordo should have done more to prevent this."

"We've already done so much," Elvia smoothed her Knight's anxiety with an affirming gloved hand against his shoulder pauldron. "But not even the Ordo St George can fight the Mermen in their underwater homes, nor the Juche Cult in their Necropolis. To defend is the way of things, the balance Mother Superior spoke of— the Accord."

"I should have..." Mathias sighed. "I am… very sorry, Companion Lindholm. I should have slain the boy where he sat."

"I am the one to bear that blame, Mathias." Elvia shook her head. "I am beginning to wonder if blind faith, even if it lies in an entity like the Yinglong, would have uncomplicated our quest."

"The Father of the Nazarene gave us faculty and capacity," her Protector reminded her, perhaps to ease her buzzing conscience. "It is a sin to neglect God's greatest gift."

Elvia agreed with a murmur, her attention wandering from the flaming mountain toward the shimmering coast.

There, a mere distance of a dozen kilometres away, her eyes bore witness to the impossible sight of an Afaa al-halak, the great Sand Worm of the Sawahi Sand Sea, busily interconnecting the city's canals and estuaries by creating an enormous zig-zag of waterlogged trenches.

The Undead Mermen that had penetrated the Shielding Stations seemed naturally drawn to these enormous billabongs of churning dark water, only to be lit up by thundering spellfire from the Militia and the Golems hidden in the nooks of the city's avenues and boulevards.

Before she could remark on Gwen's expertise, an enormous maelstrom almost a kilometre wide erupted over the salt marshes, drawing up the scattered minions of the Juche cult.

"Uncle and niece, both fighting for the lives of the city," Elvia said to the turbulent air. "In another life, we would be there beside them, repealing the Undead."

"I wish to be among the combatants as well," Mathias confessed. "Though we have a duty here. Is that not your purpose and mine?"

Elvia observed the city once more. There was chaos, and there was horror. There were massacres to the north, homes and Districts on fire as the milling millions of China's populous port city fled for the inland shelters. Militiamen were swarming the dockside, both organised and disorganised, and multitudes of Mage Flights roared over the city, zipping from the humming Tower like frenzied hornets from a kicked nest.

The battle, to Elvia's ambivalence, was holding steady. It was strange to say that she felt more worried for the city's success, for unlike her vision, Tianjin was not a brimming sea of fire and water, living and un-living, engaged in an existential toil.

What was the missing catalyst?

She knew the answer—but she dared to hope as well, for the saving of Ayxin's child should have prevented the worst.

"Percy Song..." she asked the flickering city below, for there were no answers from her Patron. "Where are you now?"

"Transmute Earth!"

Percy Song, no longer the richly attired, handsome youth worshipped by his fiancee, slipped through the warped stratum of granite and sandstone to finally arrive as a mud-man into the crypt of what was once a grand temple to the Mythics of yore.

His wedding clothes were torn and soiled, his face and hands layered with dust and dull motes of Transmutation, but he had done it. He was here, in the sanctum of the Kirin Tribe, the last depository of his Patron's people.

When he had caught view of the baseplate of the Tianjin Tower, he had been dismayed but not surprised to see that the earthquake had indeed damaged its exterior—and that the PLA had stationed an entire Militia's worth of men and their attached Mage Flights to ensure the city remained supplied with power.

Though the Tower was now in the air and drawing upon its reserve of HDMs, the Shielding Stations themselves would have exhausted their supplies during the initial hour of the assault and would need to be sustained by the city's network of ley-lines.

Thankfully, he had long provisioned for the Tower's zealous protection of even an un-nested base plate.

The Octogramic Mandala used by the Xia Dynasty was hidden by secret tunnels that made accessing the Jade Lode possible, acting as both conduit and maintenance. In a time of peace, however, with the Tower tapped into the lay node, entering the chamber of whatever the Kirin Kings of the Xia had left for its descendants would be suicide. Without a temporary shut-down of the Tower's mana engines, such as for maintenance, or the Tower being aloft, such as for military exercises, the concentration of mana drawn from the ley node would burst a Mage's Astral Soul like a Creature Core.

Percy released a dozen floating lumen globes from his Storage Ring, each the size of a ping pong ball. Though his dark vision was sufficient, he did not trust the magically infused Divination more than his eyes of flesh and blood.

Slowly, his vision adjusted, revealing the interior of the Xia's lost domain.

The air, what's left, possessed insufficient oxygen to sustain a human visitor.

Swiftly, he donned an enchanted mask intended for underwater adventures, then breathed deep as he took in the sight he had harkened after since the Kirin Soul's revelations.

Above his head, he saw a plaque composed in the old languages of the Xia, each character more cryptic than the last. Around him, jade murals of Kirin-kin showed a prosperous city that spanned the horizon of each vista in the octagonal tomb chamber, with Stoney vector lines coalescing toward the middle.

And in the epicentre of the chamber, the root of the Jade Lode sat, a glorious emerald trunk of some stone-forged tree. Since immemorial, it had been appropriated by the Han Dynasty, built upon by the Tang, destroyed by the Yuan, and rebuilt by the Ming—an edifice sandwiched between a thousand narratives of upheaval and destruction, reconstruction and repurpose. From his tour of Tianjin Tower, he knew that the PLA had never excavated beyond what they presumed to be the Lode's capstone, somewhere between the bedrock laid by the Han and the Tang Dynasties, for the ley grew less stable the deeper they dug.

Gingerly, feeling the call of destiny tingling in his fingers, Percy approached the Jade Lode's trunk-like root.

Closer, he could see that the base did not consist of rough and unpolished jade but scripts akin to Dwarven Runes, composed by the ancient Daoshi of the Xia, a lost system of Shamanism written in "Bone Script". In archaeology, such samples were usually found etched into the bones of slain Magical Creatures. Years ago, there had been immense interest in the script. However, to Percy's knowledge, no Party research had yet succeeded in replicating "China's" Dwarven Rune language.

Slowly, with his heart pounding, Percy placed a hand upon the Jade Lode, first allowing his fingers to caress the runes, then imprinting his hand upon its sandpaper surface so that the odd shapes pulsed against his palm.

The stone was warm.

And it pulsed with… life?

"This…" he gulped, his state of being suddenly elevated as the realisation struck. "Is this an egg?"

It is the legacy of the Kirin Tribe. The voice at the back of his skull echoed. It is the quintessence of that which formed the Kirin, the only vestige of their existence that remains untainted by the lustful Dragon-kin.

Percy's mouth felt dry despite the Water Breathing mask.

"What… what do I do with it?" He felt dizzy from the prospect. Hadn't his sister found such an egg? Hadn't she become the Vessel of an Old One due to her contract with its parent? And this—this sole Kirin egg. What did it mean for him? For his ascension?

"Mei…" The bitterness in his mouth tasted like old tobacco cud. The cost he had to pay to get to this point was surely greater than Gwen's.

"What must I do?" Percy Song asked the darkness.

Do as I instruct. The Kirin Soul's hollow echo reverberated in his mind, banishing all doubt. This way, our rebirth lies.

Jun Song, Hero of the Northern Campaign, spat a mouthful of Ashen Mana at the smouldering mass howling in frustration below.

With the nation's best Mage Flight still in Shanghai or Beijing, he knew that only he could overpower the "Named Beast" called Zodiam, a known Elemental Prince of the Brass Legion, the expeditionary force of the unknowable Mythics that made their home in the Elemental Plane of Fire.

Zodiam was a formidable creature fortified by its possession of armaments. However, even without his weaponry, the Elemental noble was a Colossal Class monstrosity known as the Elder Fire Giant—a race who made their home in the molten mountains within the Para-Elemental Plane of Magma.

The problem was that the four-meter Giant wasn't a footman but rode upon a Magma Ursine taller than the Fire Giant, possessing the girth and strength of a quadrupedal Dwarven Balefire.

Furthermore, as the commander of his forces, Zodiam did not battle "alone". His cavalry was followed by its flaming, fervent supporters, the infamous Brass Legion from the Mageocracy's Fire Sea, consisting of humanoid Salamander-kin equipped to the teeth with armaments and sorcery.

From their enchanted pilums of brass, arrays of focused fire pounded the city's defenders, keeping Jun's Mage Flights from harassing them with sleet and hail, snow and ice.

Without a doubt, the Fire Giant and its kin were the culprits behind the "volcanic" eruption at Tangshan, the emergence of which had induced the enormous quake prior. Hundreds of villages once existed in Tangshan, and two Districts lived beside its estuaries and gullies, all of which now fed the flames behind the Brass Legion's advance, perishing in flame or suffocating from the burnt-up oxygen as the flocks of Ember Imps and Flame Mephits ran amok.

To prevent a greater tragedy, Jun knew he had to stop Zodiam before he could penetrate the Resonance Barriers and destroy the Shielding Stations' nodes.

Therefore, he had recklessly descended, tapping not only into the Soul Well in his Kirin Amulet but the Essence gift of his father-in-law, the Yinglong.

Unlike the first time he had risked his being in the north, he brought forth the full might of the Ashbringer, tearing the Material Plane asunder as his Avatar of Ash glowed white-hot, calling forth shrieking fragments of necrotic phosphorus upon his foes below.

For the large part, his adversaries had not anticipated such a retaliation, for they closely clumped even as the incendiary Blizzard descended on the length of the city's northern boundary. Mephits touched by the ashen assault instantly had withered and turned to soot. Salamanders who survived the attack grew insensible and dispassionate.

Mighty Zodiam, his armour sizzling from the dissipating Ash corroding his skin and armour, had turned his enormous face upward to gaze at his attacker.

And that was when Jun spat to clear his throat.

"ZODIAM THE BUTCHER!" Jun's Clarion Call echoed across the firmament. "COME AND MEET YOUR END!"

"MORTAL!" The creature spat back. "DARE YOU CHALLENGE A PRINCE OF—"

CLANNNNG—!

Before the creature even realised, the sweet gong of an unstoppable force striking an immovable object acknowledged the rumour that his niece never fought with honour, that her underhanded methods had permeated the thinking of her underlings, and that she was something akin to a devil's advocate, the whispering seductress of Capitalism.

The Fire Giant grew suddenly airborne when a living line of lightning met Zodiam's open mouth, followed by an eye-wincing headshot from a morning star tail so swift as to race the lightning itself.

Zodiam fell—or rather, rotated from his saddle, only to be snagged by the enchanted leather, dragging his Magma Ursine with him as he rolled over his whimpering minions.

Just as Jun planned out his next act, the Thunder Dragon returned.

Mao alive! He felt as impressed as he was horrified by the total lack of honour demonstrated by the lizard. Is this how Dragons fought?

Indeed, the Thunder Dragon rolled its Dragon Fear over the cowering, silenced crowd of confused Elementals, then laid down another line of lighting as wide and far as a boulevard in Fudan, spontaneously inducing the volatile Salamander battalions to erupt into explosions of molten Magma.

"ROAARRRR—GURRK—!" Zodiam protested, but was again cut short.

CLANNNNG—!

The Giant attempted to rise but was unsuccessful, for Golos' tail was leaving no quarter.

Twice, the Fire Giant failed to untangle itself from the Ursine's harness, only to be clobbered senseless.

Over and over, the Ursine and Giant were routed by a passing trail of cobalt lightning that sent chunks of brass armour flying in every direction, cratering the pair further into the charred, sooty earth of their making.

"Captain Jun." Jun's Lieutenant drifted closer, his face clammy from the heat. "Do we attack as well? How about the Militia?"

"Wait a bit.." Jun held off his men. Attired as they were in Gwen's gifts of rare battle suits, the flames radiating from the howling Giant was no joke. "If this continues until Zodiam gives up, we'll clean up. If not…"

"GUAARRRRGHHH—!"

A volcano, or the closest thing to a localised geothermal ruption, concaved the battlefront.

Tianjin's long night turned briefly to day.

First came the hysterical, retina-searing light, then the roaring BOOM—a ring of total annihilation rang out with the shockwave, obliterating the urban landscape for kilometres in every direction.

Jun and the men reeled from the blast, their Mage shields flaring into being as they fought the violent gale accompanying Zodiam's anger. A few of his men were blown away, but Gwen's armour reinforced their protective barriers, burning through its internal stores.

Behind them, the shattering glass of the city's skyscrapers was interrupted only by the sirens of evacuation vehicles and the clamour of human misery. The Shielding Stations were, even for an important Frontier like Tianjin, resonance barriers to stop Magical Creatures, not localised Force Domes projected by the superstructural Towers.

A three-storey tall, bipedal bear made of honey-gold Magma stood in place of the Elemental Prince's vanguard. Upon its back, finally freed of his constraints, was Zodiam, his brass armour now liquid and free-flowing, forming rune-imbued defences that levitated around his smouldering being. His only sign of injury was the broken ringlet around his head, made conspicuous by a line of yellow sulphur running down the side of his pitted, crag-cliff face.

"INSOLENT WYRM!" The Giant roared from the back of his unshackled beast. "I'll use your hide for a cushion!"

Jun felt the approach of Golo as he returned to their lines. In its battle form, the familiar Essence radiating from the electricity-dripping Dragon reminded him of Ayxin, marking their familial bond as siblings.

"Sir." His Lieutenant rubbed a thoughtful hand against his chin stubble. "Perhaps you should ride Lord Golos. We shouldn't be outdone by a mere bear that's not even a panda."

The rest of his soot-faced men murmured agreement.

Ahead, the Fire Giant raised both hands to the heavens as if in violent protest. His hands descended, pulling in a dramatic move resembling the tearing of metaphysical curtains from the fabric of space and time. Enormous rents materialised above the city's northern quarter, followed by downward eruptions that spurt forth gouts of dark Magma and ruinous sulphur.

His men groaned, their despair spreading like wildfire.

As for the Militia below them—Jun doubted there were enough men or Golems left to make a difference.

"I'll take the Giant." His eyes were twin beads of glowering coal. "Golos, can you handle the bear?"

"It's Brother-in-law…" the Thunder Dragon grumbled. "And yes… I'll have the Ursine's Core for siu yeh."

Tianjin.

Bohai Bay.

As night briefly turned to day, the crew from Shalkar allowed themselves a few seconds of distraction.

"Jun's fine," Gwen reported to her cousins from her Empathic Link with Golos. "Gogo managed to trigger a transformation in the Fire Giant. I am glad it happened now rather than later, assuming we're fighting Zod in the CBD itself."

"Do you think Uncle Jun will halt the Elemental Prince?" Richard remarked as he refreshed his array of Water Shields, negating the necrosis-inducing slime slick that would have bogged down a lesser Abjurer.

"For a few days, but not beyond that," Gwen confirmed. "Remember, we're holding out to prolong the evacuation. Unless Shanghai and Beijing are willing to relent on their defences and come to our aid, it's unlikely we'll be able to repeal the Tide."

"Will they come?" Richard asked.

"I am expecting it." Gwen nodded as she repositioned her invisible Familiars for their tactic in the icy south. "The question, however, is when. How long would it take for the capital to organise a strike force capable of dealing with Zodiam? Or the Shoal? And will they overcome their paranoia?"

"I hate it when we wait on others," Richard spat. "Why can't the PLA be punctual, like the Elves? My God, Sanari would end this Shoal before sunrise."

"Gwen. Necromancy Node, six O'clock, between the cluster of Crab-men and that Siege Breaker." Petra's voice cut through the chaos of Gwen and Richard's dodging of unmentionable projectiles.

"Not inside the Kraken?" Gwen asked for confirmation as her eyes scanned the dark mass of oily, ichor-slick fish below. "They're not that stupid, are they?"

"The Tower reports the signature as reading Juche cultists," Petra's voice kissed her ears. "And yes, not a Lich if they're not hiding inside the Siege Beasts. I am anticipating the rank and file, albeit senior ones."

"Fuck—" Richard offered one last distraction as they dived downward. "They're bombarding the city now that they can't push past the Shielding Barriers. How Soviet of them."

Gwen's eyes were now focused on the space between the tentacles' boiling mass and the hooded Necromancers' Cabal between them. The months spent in the Antarctic had given her an insight into the operation of Necromantic Mermen hordes few possessed, particularly the regimented arrangement of control nodes and troop assignments, which were, as Richard remarked, almost Soviet in their consistency.

"Ariel!" She gave the command, her hands rapidly forming the chained Glyphs for an upper-tier crowd-pleaser. "Barbanginy!"

"EE-EE!"

Twin bolts of emerald Chain Lightning, wicked as heavenly serpents, were joined by a third that emanated from herself, striking the pustule shielding of the Necromancer's Cabal with such force that everything around it, including the coiled Kraken tentacle, was obliterated into atomic ash.

Inside the shaded shielding, Gwen saw the Necromancers reel and fall like rag dolls, protected from instant vapourisation but not from the shock of tanking a rebuke from the Rainbow Serpent itself.

"Caliban!"

"SHAA—SHAA—!"

Caliban descended, manipulating its internal stores of immense vitality to transform into an Afaa Al-Halak with its rotating circular maw.

"Consume!"

In one gulp, it wholesale swallowed the un-living platform of flesh the Necromancers used to make themselves near-invulnerable to external assaults.

"Richard! We're heading back!" She informed her cousin.

“Lea! Casading Barrier!” Richard's invocation manifested near-instantly, though the magic took several seconds to materialise. From rents into the Elemental Plane of Water, a vertical waterfall, warped by his Undine, created a barrier a dozen meters thick and half-a-kilometre across between them and the shrieking Kraken below, catching its fire-hose jet of necrotic ink. The tail end of the waterfall struck the Kraken's upper carapace, sending it sliding back into the sea.

Gwen took a second to recollect herself as Caliban wrenched itself from the Kraken's body, transforming into its Big-bird likeness as it took to the air, each delicate claw hand clutching a fistful of mangled squid. She quickly calculated the spatial distance between their present assault on the Shoal's siege troops and the safety of their air space, then willed a Dimension Door into place.

Flawlessly punctual, Richard arrived just in time to catch a ride on her coattails, borrowing her enormous mass of internal mana to teleport back with his cousin and employer.

Without their controllers, the Undead began to disperse, their wills subject to their basest desires.

"Alright, that's three groups down." She circulated Essence and Mana while commanding Caliban to withhold its cargo for eventual expulsion into the Void. "Petra, what's our next target?"

"Eight kilometres, North-East, just off the shipping yard," Petra confirmed her readings from the Divination crew within the PLA's Tower. "This one looks like a control node. No confirmation of a Lich, but the concentration of Necromantic mana is more significant. I'd hazard it's one of those converted Sea Witches."

Gwen nodded, circulating Almudj's Essence to rid herself of the invasion of Negative Energy that always accompanied the abuse of her many talented Caliban.

Beside her, Ariel arrived, purring but exhausted from the repeated use of its talent.

"EE-ee…" Her creature nuzzled her sides.

"I am fine," Gwen assured her Familiar, scratching the tuft of beard-fur under its lion-like jaws. She'd been feeding her creature rare Cores, but acquiring a true Dragon Core remained elusive. After all, it wasn't as if Ruxin could ask his Dad if any up-and-coming bastards were as pure-blooded as expendable. "Rest up; it's going to be a long night."

Their eyes swept past the city below, once a glimmering tide of Human civilisation, now a glowering wasteland of volcanic ash, buried under the smokey fog of the Elemental siege. The lights in the city flickered, and the hot winds of war threatened from the north and east. Above the smoke haze, the Tower shone like a lighthouse beacon, keeping the tides of darkness at bay and the hounds of flame baying at its sheltered sanctum.

"Whoa..." Gwen couldn't help but remark as the sky lit up.

From a distance almost too far to see, from uncertain rents in the sky, a meteor rain of Elemental Magma, each ore the size of a house, descended.

"That's a big rock," Richard remarked while sipping an Elf-brewed anti-Fatigue Potion, a peach-flavoured luxury afforded by Gwen's connection to Tryfan. "The folks in the Divination Tower will feel that."

The magma blast struck the corner of a projected Wall of Force, splitting in twain as its smaller breakages broke over the Tower's invisible exterior barrier, cascading down the Tower's flanks into the port below.

The group collectively felt their hearts shudder as warehouses burst into flames, ships sunk from the impromptu rock fall, and priceless heavy equipment began to smoke and combust. From its place in the shadow of the Tower, Tianjin's prized deep water dock was now a blazing bonfire growing larger with every minute.

"Too risky to send in a fire crew." Richard's brows twitched. "Petra, ask the Tower. Perhaps I could…"

Her cousin's sentence never finished, for he was now staring at an adjacent grid, where one of the port's Shielding Station nodes sat upon its cylindrical concrete foundations.

Gwen followed her cousin's eyes. Richard's spectacles were alive with micro-Runes of the Dwarven kind, an upgrade he had cashed through friendship with the foremen in the Bunker.

"What's wrong?"

"I could swear that thing just winked on and off." Her cousin adjusted his glasses. "I hope it's not too—"

The city winked out.

The crew stared, their brains struggling to process the nature of the unnatural darkness, lit only by the fires of destruction, winding back the ancient city to the days of the Horse Lord's long siege.

The tide beyond the city's limits churned with Undead.

Above, a hazy moon loomed, barely visible from the frothing bay, full of the turbid ebb and flow of roaring surf and wailing war, clouded by the moaning groan of hungry mouths clambering for human flesh.

The oppressive thrum was gone.

"The Shielding Stations…" Gwen gulped.

CALAMITY! The voice of Golos echoed inside her head. COME NOW! SOMETHING IS HAPPENING TO JUN! His body is flooded with Negative Energy! We're abandoning the Front and returning to the Tower!

In the temple that was her body, her heart rate blew through the ceiling, filling her vision with debris.

DING—! DING!

DING—! DING!

Scarlet Blossoms announced a new emergency.

The darkness below lasted only a few seconds, perhaps a dozen; it was impossible to tell. The confusion, alarm, struggle and flight that must have flooded every nook and cranny of the city's glass and steel interior dispelled as backup generators kicked in, birthing hotspots of light in a vast and shadowy inland sea.

Richard pinched his brows. "Jesus Christ… here we go again."

While Gwen insensibly tried to make sense of Golo's warning and map out the best way to reach her uncle, Richard's answer arrived in the form of shrieking thrums from the Shielding Stations nearest to the shore, suddenly made to compensate for the lost resonance of the past ten seconds: a pause that gave their gathered foes the necessary space to invade the regions in-between.

The whining grew louder and louder as more and more Undead Mermen flooded inland, breaking through the bay, headed at the fore by Krakens, brutish and colossal, using their bodies as battle barges to soak up the struggling resonance waves seeking to disrupt their Creature Cores.

In time, they would reach the Shielding Stations, heralding the city's end.

"Now we know it's Spectre for sure." Her cousin's voice cut through the cascading cacophony, affirming Gwen's worst fears. "This is just like Sydney. Did they buy someone in the Tower? Maybe they've got a Walken problem too."

Their gazes wandered to the Tower.

Would it fall? Gwen felt her stomach lurch.

But the Tower remained its stoic sentinel self. It did not titter nor falter, nor did the blackout impact its shielding as it continued to withstand the heavenly assault from the Fire Elemental legions to the north.

"Do we…" Richard's shock was brief. Cool as a refrigerated cucumber, he gestured to the roving mass of bodies moving into the city's outer Districts like the dark water of an invading tsunami. "Should we defend the Shielding Stations?"

Gwen forced herself to remain in control of her faculties.

She had promised her uncle Jun that she would save the city with him.

And she had promised Ayxin that she would bring back Uncle Jun no matter the cost.

And then there was Evee. Where was she now? Had she come to help, and was she in the city? There was no better physician for Jun than the Yinglong's Vessel.

"Pats." Her mind moved once it attained its affirmations. "Find out where Elvia and her Knights are and bring her to Uncle Jun. I'll also join her."

"Uncle Jun is in trouble?" Petra's eyes widened.

"I don't know—" Gwen left the rest of her conversation to the Message device.

The Tower was twelve kilometres away. With her current Elemental Affinity, she could manage over four hundred meters at the extreme of her Dimension Door.

Her eyes scanned the invading Mermen Tide, led foremost by the colossal, death-rolling sea-beasts, polluting their advance with a carpet of tenebrous water that stank to high heaven.

There was no chance the dockland's Militia would survive without her aid.

Her uncle or Tianjin?

The answer couldn't be more obvious.

Elvia Lindholm, Knight Companion, felt her world fall into purgatory the instant Tianjin's lights winked out.

Her vision, against all her hopes, was coming true.

Darkness, that terrifying edifice of nature, unfurled its great canvas and smothered the city from the dockland to the centre, stopping at the Districts with their independent generators, a dim barricade girdled around a darkling shore.

Very soon, nearer to dawn, there would be fire and flood.

Was the future immutable? She wondered. Was she an instrument of its creation? Is the will of the creator beyond Human knowledge?

She waited for the depleted lights of the city to return—for in her vision, Tianjin still hung by a thread. The militias would throw themselves against the Undead horde, attempting to evacuate as many men and women as possible. Above them, an ashen Kirin would battle Gwen's Thunder Dragon, raining death and desolation.

Sir Kass and Reginald had reported that they could not find the boy within the Tower—though from what Elvia could see and recall, the Tower itself had remained unimpacted. In her vision, it was from its bays that Gwen would call upon the Shoggoth to cleanse the city—and consign its survivors to sweet oblivion.

And after that, her friend's mental decline would begin.

Elvia counted ten breaths. The lights winked on.

"THERE! AT THE BASE PLATE!" Mathias steered her eyes with a drawn sword. "Something's emerging!"

Indeed, the already-fractured baseplate that once housed the Tianjin Tower was shuddering and groaning.

With a supreme effort, a ripening body emerged, a broad-tipped spear covered with rich runes she could not discern. In a single thrust, it pierced through the steel-plated earth to appear on the surface like an obscene jadeite oyster mushroom.

Essence—not the Essence of life, as characterised by the Yinglong and her Dragon children, but the Essence of one who usurps, that of Elemental Ash, poured forth as a fount of un-life.

"What in the name of the Nazarene…" Mathias paused in his Messaging of their fellow Protectors. "Is this Percy Song's doing?"

Elvia did not know, for her mind was focused on the energy flow within the Ley-lines powering the city. This jade artefact—whatever it was, was creating a new locus, diverting the ebb and flow of what had been the baseplate unto itself, harnessing the land's energy to feed its ravenous interior.

In rapid succession, its Glyphs pulsed thrice.

A fourth pulse rang out, invisible to the mortal eye, felt only by those trained to recognise ancient Necromancy.

A circular halo of visible entropy spread from the jade lode's centre, consuming everything in its path, wilting trees and grass, and when it passed over the confused soldiers still milling about the exterior of the base, they too were turned into powdery, ashen husks.

Life—vitality—Essence—all of it then fed back into the jade lode.

Elvia baulked at the familiarity of the sensation—for she had seen this in the past.

Gwen's Kirin Amulet.

Her friend's amulet had performed the same thing: only it had passively drawn inward the Essence of the creatures Gwen had slain. In the past, she had thought the process wonderous and magical—now she knew its true purpose.

Even though she was over a dozen kilometres away, Elvia felt the tug-of-war on her Astral Soul initiated by the obscene artefact's hunger—after which her Draconic Essence boiled like heated mercury.

Realisation dawned like a fresh morning at Bondi.

An EGG!

An epiphany—Elvia knew what she had to do.

Everything that had happened so far.

Gwen's amulet. Percy's escape.

All of her choices were not misguided after all.

Thanks to her premature intervention, the egg was not yet hatched! Its cargo of Ashen Kirin remained in its ancient womb—and she, the Yinglong's Vessel, would snuff the infant before it could breathe the air of the living!

"Mathias! With me! Recall the Senior Knight Protectors!" She kicked her flying gear into maximum output. "We're going to destroy that—"

DING—!

A Message spell bloomed, its gold-laced scarlet hue indicating the highest possible priority, with no option for silence.

"Evee! Come to me!" The voice of Gwen resounded in her ear. "Something's happened to Uncle Jun! The amulet is draining his vitality! I don't have the means to remove it, and I can't sustain Jun for long! I am sending you the coordinates! Come immediately!"

Elvia froze in her tracks.

ACCURSED PROPHECY! Her mind roared, her thoughts no less turbulent than the molten gale from the rampaging Elemental Prince in the north.

The Egg!

Or Jun?

Which was her duty?

What would require her sacrifice?

Or would a momentary indecision spell the failure of both choices?

If only she could tear herself in twain!

"Lady Lindholm?" Mathias drifted to a stop just ahead. "What's is your will?"

Elvia regarded her Knight.

An idea… a dire, terrible idea came to her mind.

"Mathias, we must save Captain Jun…" She pointed toward Gwen's Message, where the Tower shuddered against the pounding of catapulted Magma. Holding up both hands, she materialised her Ginseng Spirit. "Matt. Take Sen-sen. Sen-sen will be able to sustain Lord Jun."

"What about you?" Mathias’ brows knitted. "What are you intending to do?"

"I shall stifle the egg." Elvia gave him a stiff smile. "Tell Sir Reginal and Kass to meet me as soon as possible."

"Impossible!" Mathias protested, his hands moving to prevent her from flying forward. "I cannot allow that."

"Mathias." Elvia's faith-laced garb glowed as the Yinglong's Dragon Fear radiated from every pore of her skin, freezing her Knight in place. Gently, she placed Sen-sen in his arms, draping the tendrils around his shoulders. "Take Sen-sen and deliver it to Gwen. I shall not ask again."

Mathias' Icon of the Shield-Sun of St Michael grew suddenly bright. A brief halo appeared overhead as the Dragon Fear was broken. "Elvia! You can't!"

"I shall." Elvia felt infused by what could either be the Yinglong's approval or the will of a higher power. Her blue irises glowed golden as her Faith-fuelled Relic filled her conduits with Humanity's original magic. "And I will. Go now, Mathias; if Jun perishes because Sen-sen did not arrive in time, I shall never forgive you."

Her Knight Protector gritted his teeth, but Elvia knew the man could only obey.

"Sen!" her Ginseng affirmed her will, evidently understanding its sacred duty. Elvia did not doubt Sen-sen's awareness, for it was through the Ginseng that the Yinglong had found her. Sen-sen, across distance and time, could expend her life force for her patients, aided by the boundless vitality stored within Sen-sen's bearded body.

"I can't fly back in time," Mathias gave a final protest. "And our rings are attuned to Pudong Tower."

Unperturbed, Elvia handed her Knight the ring they had recovered from the girl Mei—Percy's original Contingency Ring for Tianjin Tower. Though it was made null for Percy, any other user with the right clearance and mana signature could still activate its dumb-fire magic circuitry.

"See?" She smiled at her Knight. "The Nazarene instructs us in mysterious ways. Have Faith, Mathias. It's all we have."

Mathias took the ring from her hands, then slipped the hoop over his armoured gauntlet.

"Evee… Take care."

A blink later, the Knight was gone in a streak of sublime light, gone to the belly of the Tower with Sen-sen, ready to administer aid to Gwen's uncle.

Ahead below, the Kirin Egg's ashen-Essence slowly gathered, ready for another pulse of life-stealing, Essence drinking conflagration.

Senechal Ashburn's gifted Relic glowed warmly in her hand.

How nice it is, Elvia thought as her body plummeted toward the pulsing egg of the unborn Kirin. To finally know one's destiny.

Across his two decades of life, Percy Song had never felt so close to death than in the moment of his literal ascension.

When he had activated the jade egg with the ancient Necromancy taught to him by Guo Song from the family's hidden manuals, the Vessel of the Kirin's will suddenly began to expand, activating a mechanism he had not anticipated nor understood.

Even as ashen Essence spilt out from the jade lode, numbing his senses and turning his body insensible, he saw the ceiling rapidly approach as the platform that housed the egg ascended, tearing upward with no heed for the two thousand years of construction that had occurred since it was laid.

A hastened Stone Shape, interwoven with his Mage shielding, was thankfully activated by the Kirin Soul housed in his Astral Body, giving Percy enough time to regain his footing.

Once the initial chaos ended, Percy found himself in darkness, suddenly alone and inexplicably afraid.

Slowly, carefully, he orientated himself in his tomb.

He had done it.

He had done everything the Kirin Soul asked.

The problem was… he wasn't sure if he had gained anything.

His Astral Body remained as it was before.

There was no spark, no emerald mote of Essence.

No changes to speak of, nothing akin to what he had heard from Gwen in speaking of her experiments with Magister Wen.

Nothing.

But that was impossible.

It was impossible because he felt the un-life radiate from the jade egg's root, leaving him untouched. If the Kirin was insensible and indiscriminate, why would he have lived?

It took him a few minutes, but finally, his Stone Shape moved by sheer memory into what remained of the access tunnel. The interior was full of choking dust, but the ancient walkway had yet to collapse, much to his relief.

Carefully melting the rubble as he flew, he navigated by the dim lilac glow of his Transmutation.

Cloistered on all sides by claustrophobia, he felt a new paranoia.

What if the Yinglong's slaves were to find his Kirin egg?

What would the PLA think of the suddenly emerging egg? Should he claim it? Or should he claim innocence?

To leave the egg unattended was like slicing off a layer of his flesh.

He was its discoverer. He was its saviour and was owed a debt of its gratitude. Wasn't that why the Old One had founded an accord with his sister? He, Percy Song, had freed this creature from near-eternal slumber!

His progress hastened. He could crawl on all fours now in the walkway. This far, the exit would take him away from the epicentre,

As his upward traverse took him past the concrete and rebar of the man-made structure, a voice of reason intruded into his clouded mind, asking important questions like, what am I going to do now? Will the Yinglong relent in its influence on the PLA's upper members? Even if the Kirin egg hatches, what good would it do for me?

"Mighty Kirin," he spoke to the darkness ahead. "What will become of the Egg?"

And what will become of me? He thought intently.

Peace, young one. The voice answered, as distant as it was wise. Escape, and I will show you what must be done.

Percy, his heart no more glad nor full of surety, stumbled forward into the darkness, his eyes scanning for the sliver of light that signalled the tunnels' exit into the industrial district of the city's western quarter.

It was a terrible and empty feeling, he thought. To suddenly not know the destination of one's destiny.

But trudge on he must, and he followed the tunnel doggedly until he arrived at the slightly ajar stone slab that would take him into a catacomb, above which was the lonesome temple, the sole reminder of the city's vibrant past in an industrial wasteland of factory yards and warehouses.

With some effort, he moved the stone slab, then crawled on all fours through the narrow, muddy gap stinking of mildew and mould until he caught the heavy stone panel he had originally removed to access the tunnels.

"Enhanced Strength." Percy heaved, moving the enormous block of stone against the slippery moss until he could squeeze through.

Outside, the air stank of ozone and sulphur, making every breath laborious and unpleasant.

He reached for his mask.

DODGE! The command from the Kirin soul came as sudden as the magic it activated. Risking permanent damage to his body, Percy Dimension Doored just as an ear-splitting SCHWIIIIING— roared past his head, narrowly missing him by an inch.

He reappeared above the temple and dodged another zinging SCHWIIIIING— that almost split him in twain, finally landing on the roof. The implement that attacked him continued to fly, striking the factory wall behind him with such force that the galvanised iron wall imploded as though crunched by a displeased giant.

"Fortification of Salt—! Diamond Chitin! Crystalline Barrier!" His best defensive spells manifested one after another, one by himself and the others by the Kirin soul. His body turned milk-white as empowered, compressed salt grew into place, one against his skin, another as armour, and the other as a disposable shell around him.

"Who goes there!" He shouted to the night, noting the female figure hovering mid-air.

More acutely, he noted the six-other slabs of pale jade rotating around her, waiting to be launched.

"Lu—Lulan Li?!" His eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The girl did not answer.

But her blades answered in song.

SCHWIIIIING—!

SCHWIIIIING—! SCHWIIIIING—! SCHWIIIIING—!

"Blink!" Percy knew he had to open the distance and find cover, for the girl's close combat was her first and foremost profession. Rapidly dodging the crashing sword slabs, he zig-zagged across the factory yard, using the heavy machinery as crumpling shields to prolong his life.

Kirin Spirit! His mind furiously searched for an answer to his new crisis. "Do something!"

"Dimension Door!" His body winked out of existence, sparing an eye blink for the kissing slabs. A split-second slower, only minced meat would have reappeared on the roof.

Unbidden, he raised a hand toward the horizon. The Negative Energy inside his body raged and boiled; the Elemental Salt coursed through every conduit—then burst forth from his palm to strike at the heavens.

A flare flew out.

"What the hell are you doing?" Percy retracted his hand, his Divination senses flashing in response to the girl's newly manifested blades. Behind the silhouette of her rust-armoured combat suit, they hovered like the heads of serpents, forming the visage of an eight-headed Naga.

Above him, his released mana exploded, forming a strange firework in an irregular Rune-like pattern he had never seen.

Did the Kirin Soul call for the Kirin? Percy wondered, a sudden hope alive in his chest. It better have... How else am I going to survive Gwen's mad dog?

"Did Gwen send you?" He shouted at the woman. "Tell her to see me! Grandfather will never stand for it!"

Lulan Li twirled her blades.

They began to vibrant and thrum.

Percy understood that the girl had merely taken his question time to reapply penetration magic on her swords.

"I don't HAVE the Amulet!" Percy shouted at the woman. "Why are you doing this?"

BANG!

SCHWIIIIING—!

The sound of a launching sword and its passage past him was almost one sound. Percy dodged—or thought he did, for the eruption of Salt around him meant the Kirin Spirit had used its supernatural senses to command his armoured shell to expend itself.

His world briefly erupted in powder.

His chest felt like it was on fire. His mana conduits felt clogged.

All seven remaining blades twirled.

"LULAN!" Percy howled, begged, putting up both hands. "STOP—I SURRENDER! "

The swords launched, the explosion propelling them so loud as to fill Percy's head with white noise.

For a brief moment, Percy's life flashed before his eyes like a montage carousel reel. He thought of the Kirin Egg, his future, and the life he should have had under the PLA. He thought of his grandparents, his doting Yeye and his forever gentle Babulya. He thought of Mei, whom he would never meet again… and Hai… and Gwen.

He had wanted more from life.

A heartbeat later, his vision cleared.

He was not dead. His head was not split nor severed, nor was his body turned to burger meat.

Instead, his eyes focused on a woman.

A woman in black, wearing what might be a funeral dress, but elaborate beyond compare, a hugging gown that conformed to her flawless figure, exposing only her frail white face, set against a full head of dark hair that fell like an obsidian waterfall.

She was tall like Gwen, and her aura reminded him of his sister.

Ahead of the woman, he saw the opening of a dozen slits. From these rents in space, tentacles tipped with lamprey maws held onto or had caught in their rubbery flesh, the projectiles launched by Lulan Li.

As for his assailant, only a sudden burst of Mythril-hued Conjuration mana remained to mark her last location.

The woman, his sudden saviour, slowly turned, her head half-cocked to inspect her prize.

Percy gulped, then gasped.

The woman's immaculate complexion was as fair as mutton jade. Her eyes were twin pools of baby blues, so blue that they made his heartache. What was most alluring, however, were her lips, ruby red they were—and full and sensual and wet with what he hoped wasn't fresh blood.

"How interesting," the woman spoke to herself as their eyes met. "You're not one of us, and yet, how did you know about the Mythic cache? How did you know how to activate our hidden Ace? Besides, you're a bit young… and far too feeble to factor into our Accord… so who, or indeed, what are you?"

The familiarity of the woman's face was arresting enough to prevent Percy from speaking. His mind stuttered and shook, shuddered and scraped his frontal lobe for recollection until he finally found the most undesirable answer in the world.

"S—SOBEL!" The syllables burst from his lips like a gutful of sickness.

The woman smiled, revealing pearly teeth that made her lips shine like polished hematite.

"So you do know me." She took a step forward. "I would hope so, for you had used my personal Sigil. Yet, we've never met in any of the organisation's meetings, have we?"

Percy wanted to flee. Knowing the purposelessness of such an act, he remained frozen in place.

Elizabeth Sobel, the butcher of Sydney, the killer of Gwen's Master, leaned in until she was close enough to kiss.

"There is something about you, child," her eyes were two pools of bottomless water. "Why are you so familiar to me? Why is your scent so… endearing?"

Before he could answer, the horizon grew bright with unnatural light.

A tremendous shard of light the size of a multi-storey building and roughly sword-shaped had manifested in the direction of the Kirin Egg and was now descending toward its unseen target below.

"Hmm…" Elizabeth Sobel straightened herself. "That is most definitely not Zodiam."

Percy's eyes followed the woman's hands as they drew a strange Glyph in the air. In the next few seconds, smaller lampreys of the Void variety slithered from the aether to arrest his unmoving, uncomplaining limbs.

Percy whimpered. He had seen what Gwen had made hers do to her foes.

"Ah, I wondered why her mana was so familiar. I think I know the girl—unlike you—my strange little curio. No matter. Let's visit our cute little Faith User," she gave him a gentle smile before willing a dark portal into being. "Such busy little bees, these priests and nuns of the Ordo Bath."

S-SPATIAL TRAVERSE! Percy recognised the spell. A tier eight personal movement spell noted to be extremely dangerous. Unlike Teleportation, it tore the space between the Prime Material and stitched a wormhole through the Mage's Plane of Affinity.

As the shockwaves of his discovery wore off, his trained mind informed him in a far more objective manner than he preferred that Elizabeth Sobel was now abducting him.

Kirin Soul! Where are you?! His inner voice called into the void.

There was no answer from the darkness.

"Don't fret, and don't look so confused," the woman's laughter was like tinkling bells. "Come, my dear. If you've gone so far as to unbox the Mythic's Egg, the least I could do is see it through, for all our sakes..."