Reforged from Ruin [Eldritch Xianxia Cultivation]

Shin Ren steps off the teleportation platform and onto the deck of the single largest vessel he's ever seen.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that the skyship rivals one of the lesser fortress cities in scale. It moves like an uprooted mountain, its lower base craggy and pitted by weapons impact and weaponry, carved heads of reptilian beasts imbued with arrays of fire and destruction, reflecting the glow of its enchantments and thrusters. There are what look like vestigial oars emerging from its outer edges, shaped as metallic pillars that extend for hundreds of feet from the central body like the spokes of a wheel, though rather than stirring the air like one might open water, they pivot and swivel, visual sensors, machine-guns and turrets ready to defend from aerial assault.

The upper deck is no less impressive.

For all the sky-covering scale of the ship's movement, its wideness does not surpass its height. While its lower half seems like an island scooped up out of the earth and rebuilt entirely from rare metals and machinery, its upper half is far more slender and alien in design. The cold of the marble-and-steel ground beneath his feet is reflected in the palatial tower rising before him, literal miles away, and it reflects the sunlight in strange patterns off of architecture both brutalist and strangely organic. He can see glimpses of temple-structures, command towers, glowing furnace-obelisks producing constant munitions, and a centermost tower that rises up near triple the height of the already miles-broad ship.

The fact that it exists pushes against the limits of belief. The fact that it can move is fucking terrifying.

The stories don't do it justice.

There are tales of the Empire in its heyday. The impossible and Heaven-defying skill and weapons that conquered the thousand-year war of its founding, the superhumans and gods that bowed to the right side of history and bent the world. The proof of such legends lives in the Academies, the inverted pyramids of higher learning and their spatial dimensions at the center of the second ring; the fortress cities and the Wall itself, higher than any mountain save the pillar of the first ring; the industry that burns through the world itself, excavating continents of rare resources and breeding alien beasts of service. No such overwhelming changes to the world could be wrought without the truly mythic levels of power.

But to know that it must exist, that there are kernels of truth to the myths of a growing Empire, and to see it in person are two very different prospects.

Off to one side of the group, standing with a series of servants, one man does a wolf-whistle at the sight.

Shin Ren studiously doesn't shoot a glance at him, though he can feel an aura of irritation tumbling off of Mei Yu beside him.

He, Gou Mai and Mei Yu all stand arrayed behind Yula, each of them equidistant to her left, right, and directly behind her. Past them, carrying multiple bags of medicines, reams of paper for recording every moment, bags of outfits and creature comforts and incense holders that Shin Ren has never seen Yula so much as touch. Surrounding them in turn are the only "official" members of her Imperially assigned entourage, are four Imperial Guards, resplendent in golden exosuits that whirr and hum lightly with the force of their enchantments and inner mechanisms.

It is a pathetic showing for a Blade, made all the lesser by having something to compare it to.

Yula, the Sword Saint, is not the only Blade aboard, after all.

There is a stairway leading down from the sky above, painting a diagonal line of crimson through the world as it descends down onto the skyship. At its peak is a single red rectangle, visible mostly for its color against the ash-grey sky, and despite its distance, Shin Ren can still see that it's very nearly the size of a courtyard or sect building in and of itself. While its surface can't be seen from this angle, a hint of its altered properties and the scale of it is shown in the figures descending that crimson stair.

Fifty paces across, each step is large enough to hold a full carriage, and is in fact doing exactly that on many of them. Baggage trains of gold, gilded skulls and ornate weapons slowly march down alongside a stream of bodies, many of them dressed in little more than wisps of fabric, while others bear monk-like countenance, cloaked from head to toe. Dancers, singers, whole orchestras playing crystal instruments and harps of flowing gold all provide accompaniment to lantern bearers, who illuminate the smoldering bodies of sacrifices that walk even as their flesh is charred and mixed with incense sticks. Whole teams of eunuchs and academic-types scribble and scratch every single moment and event of the traveling parade onto massive scrolls of ornate vellum and gold and jade.

It is an event in motion, one that has been disembarking since before they ever stepped onto the teleportation array. From the looks of it, it's going to keep carrying on for a while, leaving behind reams of rare reagents used as party favors, lingering smoke of decadent perfumes, and leftover remnants of glass and trinkets on its way.

Ironically, the show of constant chaos is interrupted on occasion by the only parts that actually remind him of who they're heralding.

Every few hundred celebrants and singers and criers and note-takers, there is a break in the procession. Each one surrounds a single individual, or occasionally one of a pair, dressed in simple clothes, often barefoot. They wear white and grey and, very rarely, black, and each one of them carries at least one bladed implement at their waist or back.

He can sense the Intent from across the ship's deck. He can taste the sharpness in the air.

Aspirants of the Cut.

All this for one man.

One man deadly enough to hunt Emperor Realm masters on behalf of the Emperor above all.

Compared to the army of celebrants and killers preceding the arrival of Kai, the Fourth Blade, Killer of Kings, the dozen people supporting Yula looks borderline comedic.

Interestingly enough, she doesn't seem to mind, giving an apologetic shrug. "Big bro's a bit of a rich kid."

Gou Mai snorts at that. Shin Ren gives him a look and a grin himself- for all that war has changed them, Gou Mai's way of speaking has always been as polite as it is boisterous.

He just shrugs in response, giving a sheepish smile. "It's… one way of phrasing it, young mistress."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Yula frowns a bit at the honorific, but doesn't comment this time- even she understands enough to know that there are times when certain titles, no matter how uncomfortable, are pretty important.

Mei Yu bows slightly from where she stands at Yula's left side, her hands kept demurely in her sleeves. "With all given grace, young mistress, a single word from your lips would be enough to honor you with a commensurate display. I am certain that the captain of such a fine vessel would be honored to provide you the proper accommodations."

Yula waves the comment off, her brows kind of scrunching at the thought. "Seems like a heck of a hassle, especially when people could be doin' other stuff. Everybody's busy! Be damn rude to take them from their work and stuff just to walk behind me or whatever."

Shin Ren successfully holds in a smile as Mei Yu smiles and bows again, saying all the right things. She is pissed, and he can understand why, coming from a background like hers- Yula has more power than any person they've ever met, barring maybe the patriarch of the Divine Veil Sect, and she acts almost hilariously ignorant of all the political and social skills that her sect is famous for.

"A wise and prudent decision, young mistress," she says, instead of saying what he can tell she so clearly wants to say. "You honor the Empire with your wisdom and care for others. Truly the Blades are improved by your inclusion amongst their numbers."

"Uh… thanks."

He can practically taste the vein throbbing in her forehead. He can't see or sense it, she's much too careful for something like that, but he knows its there, and that's even better.

"Do you know to where we next proceed, young Blade?" Shin Ren asks instead of commenting.

"Um… I'm assuming it's the big tower, right? Worst comes to worst we can just… follow the parade."

"In that, at least, there can be little difficulty," says Gou Mai.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hurry up and wait.

The tagline of all soldiers, throughout eternity. Get your gear, get in position, stay alert, follow orders- and then sit in the same place for hours or days or weeks, waiting for something that may never happen.

Turns out, flying on a goddamn continent across the Empire to fight a war at the end of the world is pretty fucking boring most of the time.

Not that Shinesh has much room to complain. A lofty position at a garrison in the second ring isn't exactly the most exciting posting in the Empire- what few spirit beasts are still loose in that part of the Empire have long been deemed rare resources, kept alive for nobles and sects to hunt them on occasion. Bandits and raiders are rare as hell, and on the few occasions in the last few decades that any have gotten big enough to be a threat, the sects or the Imperial Guard take care of it, not the army.

Not rich enough or savvy enough to be placed in a city proper, not strong enough to be part of the Guard, and someone has to man the posts other than the Wall. Anything's better than that meat grinder, no matter how noble, and he is, technically, still a part of the Imperial army.

Just… not as important a part.

And that's fine. Another decade or two and he could peacefully retire to one of the second ring's lesser cities.

And then, of course, came the breach. The War at the Wall.

A few months later, and suddenly a lot of forces on reserve started getting reassigned.

And then, there it came.

The pillar of the first ring opened, a cave large enough to fit a city yawning wide one fine day. A thousand-thousand soldiers pulled from reserve and active duty, all across the second and third rings, pulled out of garrisons that have stood as symbols of the Emperor's peace for generations, called forth for a purpose.

A sky fortress, flown in the modern age. A response to the chaos at the Wall at last, after months of horror stories and tales of glory in equal measure holding back the darkness.

And Shinesh is one of the chosen, called to serve.

He lets out a long, slow sigh, staring at the utterly vacant entryway he's been tasked with guarding for the last few months.

Hurry up and wait.

Checkpoint security officer, they call him. A glorified doorman. He checks the troops that move in and out, the few munitions that head out to the upper deck and back, and otherwise, has a lot of free time to cultivate.

Or just sit.

He tends to prefer doing the latter.

He's never been a particularly motivated individual, and he can't really think of a safer place to be than ensconced in the bowels of one of the Empire's greatest weapons of war.

A good bit of plum wine, the occasional novel, and the ability to put his latest bout of service on his merits and resume? He's as close to retired as he's ever been.

He admits, though, that he is a bit jealous of the soldiers posted on the side a bit further south of his gate. He can hear some of the echoing chaos from here, even now. The first real excitement since he got on this glorified skyboat, and he's missing it!

Even jaded as he is, it's… well, it's the arrival of a Blade. Two, even! In all the thousands of cities and billions of people, there are only five Blades, each of them mythic in and of themselves. And from what he's hearing, the rumors about the Fourth Blade's debauchery are holding true. It sounds like a carnival is coming through, echoing faintly down the many corridors and metallic bulkheads of the Skyship Aurora, and he can only imagine the sights traveling along so close and yet so far.

Then again, it's also not really his responsibility to clean up after all that. So… win some, lose some.

He might not be exactly proud of it, but he's mastered the art of doing just enough to coast by. No need to notice little old Shinesh. He can enjoy the rest of his career well behind the guns, coasting comfortably beneath the attention of anyone important.

"Excuse me?"

He blinks, snapped out of his reverie.

He's seen larger entourages. Plenty of people come to visit a place as impressive as this, even if they don't usually come through his gate.

But there are Imperial Guards here. And a trio of cultivators, one wearing the robes of the Divine Veil sect, and two more whose appearances have been talked about extensively.

And one who he can't not recognize, wearing robes of all-white and with a simple sword at her waist.

His mouth feels dry. He's sweating.

"Ah- ah, I- that is-"

"We got invited for a meeting here, and I was just wondering if you could give us some directions?"

The sheer amount of political aura staring him dead in the face is enough to obliterate any sense of familiarity Shinesh has with his post.

"Unless it's too much trouble?"

He does, in the end, give directions.

He also gets rid of his plum wine reserves. Having to stutter in front of a Blade once is enough, and the man in purple and black robes glared at him hard enough to burn a hole through his opinion of himself.

Fuck it. Maybe he will put in for a reassignment when he gets home. He's not paid enough to deal with this shit.