For Imperial warlords and those of higher ranking, the ability to solidify the Aeon Force into tangible ammunition allowed one to earn military merits from the Empire. In contrast, Divinators or even higher tier elites were obligated to contribute a fixed number of Aeon pellets annually, all stockpiled by the Empire as critical strategic reserves.
Such management of Aeon pellets—especially the rare Titan-tier ammunitions—was extremely stringent; all movements were strictly recorded and monitored with meticulous documentation maintained for every incoming and outgoing transaction without exemption.
The records pertaining to these pellets were indeed accessible to Zhao Jun Du—but never retained in his possession. Headquarters granted him one hour only. After the time elapsed, the military envoys responsible for delivery would retrieve the records per the directive.
As Zhao Jun Du proceeded to go through the volumes, four staff officers quietly positioned themselves toward the four corners of the room—monitoring his every gesture with unblinking eyes.
Accustomed as he was to tense confrontations during momentous situations at court and in warfare, the scrutiny posed no difficulty. Calm and unruffled, he flipped the records page by page at his own methodical pace until reaching the last entry. At this exact moment, the timer chimed, signaling that precisely one hour—no more, no less—had elapsed.
“My Lord,” one of the officers nodded respectfully, “It’s time upon our orders to depart.”
Zhao Jun Du acknowledged with a simple gesture, his face impassive, as the officers secured the documents and reapplied their official seal before turning to depart.
Within those pages, beyond shadow of fault or question was the clear, verified inventory. Every Titan-tier Aeon Pellet catalogued precisely with documented trajectory from source to final usage—showing a system utterly secure. Not a single unit was misplaced or missing on the record.
Therefore, according to such impeccable records, the Aeon projectile Zhao had discharged ought not exist.
As Sung Tzu Ning had anticipated, even should Zhao legally access the reports, nothing of importance to his query would surface.
Any individual sophisticated enough to surreptitiously embed the Pellet crafted by Lord Qingyang into Zhao’s Dark Nebula would not blink twice at adjusting data files—such mastery a simple footnote compared to concealing even a royal artifact under one’s nose. The act itself was a marvel beyond ordinary comprehension.
Zhao Jun Du signified to a waiting assistant, “Prepare a fully certified top-priority confidential report for immediate submission to the Imperial Headquarters.”
Upon this order, he added with gravitas, “Inform the Command there has been an anomalous appearance of ammunition infused with Qingyang essence on the battlefield—strong suspicions concerning pilferage of vital strategic resources have emerged. I request formal, thorough investigative action be launched without delay.”
His underling was genuinely startled but dared voice his confusion only with measured hesitance:
“My Lord… wouldn’t that appear most inadvisable? Isn’t that round you loosed regarded heroic, and crucial to our success in this operation?”
“You carry out what you are charged to do.”
His assistant bowed deeply. “…Yes, my Lord.”
Given the high priority accorded reports from commanders with Zhao Jun Du’s elevated rank, such a missive—once received—must be expedited through all proper chains of authority for analysis and disposition, no matter what.
The outcome would demand answers—and consequences—no matter how the inquiry turned out ultimately.
It would fall on others to bear responsibility, assuredly not Zhao Jun Du. It would be they—and none minor, a position commanding authority and prestige—who’d shoulder the blame.
His aide did not fathom the general’s rationale—but in all military affairs, obedience outweighed personal speculation, however troubling the thought might be.
In the Temporary Evernight Encampment—far from idle—it thrived under frantic preparations over a three-day spell as each racial unit mustered forces in unrelenting waves of reinforcement. The coalition’s battle-hardened legions swelled, showing increasing momentum.
But the human dominion correspondently enhanced fortifications of strongholds in their regions—an indication that any subsequent encounter would escalate far beyond prior skirmishes.
Toward the central area of the encampment lay the sovereign domain within a distinct courtyard bearing the signature gothic flair of the Nobleclans. Exclusively garrisoned by Noblevians both interiorly and externally. Not a soul from allied dark species breached its boundaries.
This marked the residence and War Room for Yedong herself. Injured by the mysterious assault—a single precise round from her encounter weeks prior—at her discretion, not one soul has since beheld the commander; in mourning self-imposed isolation within the manor’s spire since.
The corruption and taint of the newborn world were long vanquished, as the prelude toward renewed bloodshed fast approached. Amongst allied clans, unease brewed. Elders from the three dark species discreetly dispatched inquiries into Yedong’s well-being:
A single shot that defaced a Queen of Clear Skies herself, striking with deadly force through critical vitals—a miracle she still drew breath that night.
A sleek floating vessel descended at breathtaking velocity through the dusk’s twilight, landing at the camp’s nerve center with deliberate defiance. Not merely unusual but dangerous in any climate—certainly during such times of impending warfare.
Yet upon the insignias upon its sleek hull—emblems of King Azure and the distant Kingly aura they carried—it received unchallenged, unimpeded permission as though guided by fate itself.
Descending the vessel’s ramp were no fewer than three Dukes and six Counts—depleting a significant contingent from the clan’s homeland. Such an exalted assembly left no shadow upon purpose.
At forefront was no common noble, but High Duke Adrien of Mo Wei Blood-line, wielding highest mandate from Everdark Council authority.
Marching unwaveringly into Yedong solitary quarters, the nobleman halted before the sealed portal—proclaiming solemnly.
“To Her Reverberant Shadow, Duke Adrien of Mo Wei delivers decree from Queen Everdark & King Azure. We stand as emissaries—commanded to transfer an essential Relic entrusted here, bearing the Queen and Lord’s sovereign will. With us comes Her most honored regalia for Her Royal reception.”
The doors parted with ethereal ease.
“Come.”
The nobleman stepped within the threshold with three other nobles. Counts remained outside with disciplined solemnity in waiting reverence.
Reaching the second floor’s grand audience hall, the three Dukes encountered Yedong upon her lofty elevation. From shadowed majesty above did she command presence upon their arrivals, unemotionally awaiting gesture of respect.
Duke Adrien approached reverently and knelt, one knee lowered to cold flooring stone. Hands held open a velvet-cushioned dark box upward toward her.
“Upon decree of Her Twilight Majesty of Infinite Hours & blessed touch of His Azure Sovereign Lord: To You, this most esteemed offering is now humbly presented in devotion eternal.”
Yedong made no haste to accept the relic—yet inquires gently:
“And was there final word accompanying your arrival?”
“Our sovereigns spoke no additional words—however it was King Azure’s decree upon this mystery: The key to His Lady’s understanding resides within what You are to behold upon the opening. No other guidance.”
“Set it down. Withdraw.”
“As It Pleases—Majesty.” The noble adjusted tone swiftly at his slip formalities.
No objection did Yedong issue—watch she remained statue-like as every silhouette bowed once again before the hall, then melted noiselessly into shadows beyond its thresholds.
As silence reigned again, her silent stare fixed upon the ebony obsidian casing atop the desk.
From an aerial perch fluttered one spectral songbird, brushing wings gently as lids parted, a column of ancient radiant darkness erupted skyward. Controlling the force, a translucent veil overhead caught this pillar within.
Surge within shimmered in endless celestial beauty—a cosmic theater suspended within the box. Stars twirling through orbits, landforms orbit in mutual reverence. In this microcosm thrived no imitation, but true projection of the physical realms they stemmed.
Not merely static illusions—within that world danced not illusions merely but physical truths reflected exactly from her domain: the pulse of its living terrain, breath of its lifeblood.
To a consciousness akin to hers—these shifts signified truth beyond deception. The real-time harmony mirrored by every vibration within the relic attested to a single undeniable conclusion:
She—who resides timeless over Stigmatic Peaks, bearing the honor of Everdark Queen and bearer of Second Blood in Crimson River—watched, omnipotent and omnipresent even unto present moment.
This realization dawned slowly but with terrifying depth. Such might rivaled myth. Only now did she grasp why one so exalted dared offer so much upon her behalf.
Her eyes traced a pair in the uppermost portion of the projection—a landform obscured beneath endless night, only barely outlined. These were unknown to the Nobleclan’s dominion, absent in dark races records.
Each one smaller than a standard great mass by two thirds—but locked gently spinning in mutual gravitational reverence around one another like twin moons suspended in time.
Tilting her vision, Yedong’s thoughts lingered silently before softly articulating aloud.
“You already climbed unto realms above the High Skies?”
A gentle voice resonated from shifting auroras forming from the radiant column:
“To merely wander the Heights was a luxury—true understanding… awaits exploration.”
In this chamber of solitude now came emergence—a golden shadow taking shape into elegant silhouette—the twilight goddess herself emerged.
Gazes locked. For an endless stretch neither moved beyond thought. It was she to speak first amidst eternity.
“This our introduction then?”
Yedong replied without pretention:
“In these memories, perhaps.”
Everdark replied, tone imbued deep emotion unspoken.
“I see little consequence what we count. Soon You will rejoin what always was.”
Eyes flashed within shadows cast—Yedong’s gaze burned softly:
“This was your design, then?”
“Certainly not. This we must attribute to Mankind’s cunning, which surpassed even ourselves—a bitter wisdom You must acknowledge by now as well, surely.”
“What occupies the Great Oracle?” Came unexpected challenge laced with quiet disdain.
Evermore Queen softened expression only marginally.
“To unravel threads left veiled and buried through the eons. Despite vastness of his wisdom—even time itself remains an uncharted mystery beyond all seers, Titan or lesser.”
Yedong’s skepticism edged forward in tone.
“You imply two lifetimes wasted upon these dead-ends yet not even half answers unearthed?”
Everdark measured.
“Approximately two hundred plus forty-three lunar years now—including tenures with predecessors. And while progress is elusive… there are whispers now of clues.”
“Is it about Loadstone Beginnings?”
A brief pause, as though confirming an unsought answer:
“Yes. That much, the Oracle confirmed. Beyond that—”
“Beyond? Surely, surely that name—infamous as it is, cannot be your grandest intelligence.”
The Twilight Queen stood serenely:
“But knowledge is more complex still. Names, titles, legends… but nothing substantive yet revealed. Yet names themselves often betray hidden meaning in such mysteries.
Yet know this too: It is no mere vanity which causes one to accept the duty of an Oracle. It becomes impossible for the ambitious—those of true potential—to sacrifice potential in endless servitude that reveals only half-riddles. What incentive would even our great Lords have in binding their prime generations beneath duty’s chains if not for something greater at stake?
And yet, humanity, with lives tragically short, with futures they know may end soon after discovery, still persist in choosing paths demanding ultimate sacrifice. It appears they, too, thrive within fate’s threads. They harness the very fabric of Divinatory Aeon as if their birthright—with a sacrifice a fraction what our kind requires. Such was and continues to be one Lin Xitang’s chosen way. Such wisdom is humanity’s gift and their curse, perhaps.”
Her words, though unopposed verbally, carved their weight deep upon listening air.
“For nearly two centuries more I linger in anticipation, withholding from rushing to Your rescue as long ages I had waited, to grant You this salvation should self-recovery fail—which it has. In surrender of the present life, may this offering restore You unto origins reborn.”
“The Oracle would know Mankind’s secrets. By what manner did men discern that Zhand Bak Lin possessed that which subdued You?”
Everdark’s words remained steady.
“What Zhand wielded is no exception. He wielded the Ancient Forcer—a blood-essence designed to dominate all bloodlines of sacred lineage.
Should You, weeks earlier not have chosen self-imposed containment… delaying progression beyond mere Duke… had You embraced transformation freely and faced reality—then You would’ve surpassed subjugation forever.”
“The restraint was not my own choosing.”
Everdark’s expression showed neither disappointment nor vindication.
“No matter the reason, still the path you withheld from walking, choosing escape rather compliance—was Your free decision, nonetheless.”
Pausing, Everdark exhaled as if burdened by centuries of regret, though none might perceive its echo.
“This is precisely what marks the core fracture between our kind and men. The greater a creature among us becomes, increasingly, does he or she weigh all decisions around the self.
Where human greatness shines—within its prodigies—are those who choose to surrender self to the greater call for something more expansive—the survival or uplift of whole generations. This notion eluded so many among us as something laughable; we who could never comprehend such short-lived madness. But as our own kind has faltered… as ancient ones fade into nonexistence while humanity continues to adapt, outpace decay… perchance we have been the objects meant for all that mocking.”
“You have preserved our kind’s standing despite my existence, regardless of presence or absence among such divine hierarchy, even amidst the loss of primogenerative kindreds… the destruction of 13 Blood-clans. The House of Night remains potent through trials of time… and with Crimson River re-awakening… fear seems misplaced.”
Everdark turned in the dimness of her throne.
“Perhaps Crimson Blood knows secrets still beyond us… To stand equal before its source, strive then evermore in ascent—become stronger than even memory recalls.”
“I await… beyond origin’s dawn.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage