Upon the cover of the Black Codex, beneath the single eye, now rested a massive, dark golden crystal. On close inspection, it revealed itself to be composed of countless tiny crystalline grains. Remarkably, within Qian Ye’s perception, it manifested in three dimensions, slightly larger than a fist, with each minute grain interconnected by flesh and dark golden blood energy that had solidified into reality.
Even with the teachings inherited from the River of Blood, Qian Ye had never encountered the notion that dark golden blood energy could take solid form—nor could he conceive such a transformation in other forms of energy. At this point, however, he had accessed only the Duke’s knowledge. Perhaps such knowledge remained hidden within higher inheritance lines yet to be unlocked.
Qian Ye willed it so, and with a whisper like breath, the cover of the Black Codex lifted. Evidently, even with its change, the book could still open.
Upon the first page lay a set of eyes, each uniquely stirring the sense. One azure orb—the Eye of Dominion. The other crimson—a gaze marking destruction. Yet both were not symmetrically positioned. Strangely, it seemed another set of eyes existed, though not fully manifest in vision.
Following this opening page, the chapter of Genesis appeared anew. As if reshaped, the Codex had seemingly returned to the beginning of its original form. Its pages filled with secondary functions and insights had vanished entirely.
Re-reading Genesis altered his perception once more, as a new depth to the world of Eternal Night surfaced inwardly. Remarkably, the Black Codex now felt approachable—he comprehended its teachings with greater ease, deepening his grasp on reality within this world.
Such insights might not enhance the battle immediately, yet they granted Qian Ye an innate sense on commanding world energies, elevating his potential mastery—particularly refining the state beyond that of a Heavenly King level.
Beyond Genesis unfolded a newly appeared chapter: Era of Blossoming.
With this era, the world advanced close to completion, and upon landmasses, lifeforms emerged quickly, establishing a handful of powerful races and strongholds around one colossal mountain—an object of reverence and devotion through countless rituals.
As Qian Ye laid sight upon the peak, instinctively he recognized it: Saint’s Peak, the revered sanctum itself.
Yet how could such an enormous range arise from the grand hall’s interior of the Eternal Night council?
The chapter moved into scenes filled with war after war, battles erupting between clans, suggesting that the codex considered such warfare the essence of vitality. In this chapter’s depiction, seven dominant races surfaced in accordance. True to myth, the Eternal Night’s legend spoke of the existence of exactly seven great tribes.
Only four of these familiar races remained in present day: the Demigods, Bloodlines still somewhat preserved, and the Spiderkin and Werewolf kinships still present, yet different. Though in the vision, the Spiders appeared sleeker, more ornately refined—cloaked in shimmering chitin-scales which lined natural patterns that were even graceful. And while lycans remained in their primitive, untamed state, lacking any indication towards the “summit clans,” perhaps the Black Codex depicted their earliest days before great cities crowned peaks in the north—before peaks shaped clans.
This contrast in appearance—between past records and present forms—bore uncertainty. Were these evolutionary shifts naturally transpired or the Black Codex’s design suggesting their forms reflected primordial blueprints long replaced?
During excavations beneath the Antua’s ruins or amidst old murals within blue King’s palace halls, Qian Ye noticed ancient depictions where several Blood Lords’ appearances and some ancient Spiderlords seemed between both extremes—an overlap.
Then following the Chapter of Abundant Blossoms appeared a final, unbidden chapter… Chapter of Final Things.
Naturally evocative of ends, as pages turned, visions returned to primordial night—an embryonic hush. Then distant edges shimmered, light bursting out in sudden flashes and swiftly multiplying. With this illumination grew shadowed outlines—taking shape resembling a tower, its form asymmetrical, imprecisely aligned.
From those outer edges poured light that stitched itself into lines like a divine tapestry; immense torrents of light surged through cracks formed between those threads, flooding in. With their entry came a conflagration and devastation, engulfing everything, even absorbing darkness itself—darkness’s final annihilation.
Beyond was infinite light and searing heat. Endured relentlessly, it surged forth devouring all. Although obscured, within the storm-like tide’s spread, countless lives were caught in wails of despair and agony as existence faded into blackness—nearly complete erasure across entire civilizations, save the rarest echoes of colossal wills barely emerging beyond their boundaries into voids unknown—their fates unwritten. Slowly the flame’s hunger extinguished. Devoid of the fuel darkness, this incandescent purging could only flicker and falter.
Although this likely spanned epochs, time inside the Codex reduced this to the span of a single breath—a breath that carried entire generations of agony and extinction so absolute it robbed consciousness of its steadying rhythm. This was extermination incarnate.
Upon completion’s arrival, all was silent. All was grey—lifeless grey ashes stretched in an eternal wasteland. Perhaps only across unfathomable ages did new life spark upon this ruin. Yet even then its prior history was swallowed by time’s torrent—a past so erased, it felt as though existence never was.
Slowly, the codex released his awareness. Qian Ye in exhaled sharply as a man surfacing, shaken from those final words’ depths.
When closed, something at book’s last seemed stirring—a pulse beneath the surface—drawn back by impulse, within the inner back cover appeared unmistakable. There laid a beating heart, fresh, pulsing with energy.
Within, embedded delicately, was one vibrant crystal emitting crimson-gold radiance. Yet even more amazing—two others stood growing, halfway. Of these, one had nearly matured into completeness, although the Light Within it remained untouched—unsynched from the heart and its elder companion.
It hit him: Was this really his heart?
Will flickering through his presence, the second crystal blazed brilliantly, radiant with Daybreak Will that broke its bonds and intertwined seamlessly into the heart within, flooding the core chambers of the pulsing core.
Within the heart now brimmed an ocean of Daybreak energy, immense beyond containment.
As dawnlight essence reached absolute limits the second primal pearl crystallized—power rushing forth from limbs and essence, awareness surging and elevating further than ever. With this formation vividly felt awareness sharpened: the second crystal had awakened, with it emerging a signature mark.
A thought stirred the surroundings, where now several crystalline facets swirled—each floating panel revolving slowly around Qian Ye. Crafted from dawnlight, these constructs resembled thin, translucent shards, deceiving frailty. In truth, they were remarkably durable and defensive.
Surrounding his form, the panels became part of both ward and blade. Defensive layers formed in flight. A form that fused assault and shield so masterfully proved powerful, elevating Qian Ye’s current battlefield capabilities significantly.
Thus emerged the newly revealed Divine General Power associated with the second Heart Core: Skysheen Bastions.
Yet such an unfamiliar technique had not appeared prior, even in theoretical knowledge, though not beyond his grasp altogether.
Qian Ye’s original skill with similar traits, although earned, built upon foundational skills like Kai-sham techniques and various power bursts. Skysheen defenses’ nature of balanced aggression wasn’t something Qian Ye traditionally embodied, at least consciously.
Another pressing question stirred him: Why do the Primordial Gems migrate exclusively toward the heart? Sweeping his sense inward across the physical body yielded no answer; no crystals existed outside of being drawn entirely inward. Possibly a transformation induced by Black Codex absorption?
Reversing the Codex once more he turned toward the blood crystal. It took a moment, but yes—it unmistakably was his own, recognized now beyond a doubt as linked directly to his identity.
At present, it was undeniable that his core and codex had fused into a mirrored whole; the once-obsidian energy of the codex merged with the crystal heart’s dawn energy—within its cosmic domain they fused into an altogether new form, a primal force neither definable yet wholly tangible.
Concerning his physique? Transformation accelerated beyond previous expectations—skeletal transformation near complete, placing its strength on the cusp of the Grand Duke level.
Truly, no surprise awaited him. The Azurepool was meant for an ancient Ruler himself. Having consumed an ancient Duke’s blood reservoir and the powers that followed, if anything less had resulted, that would be strange—not progress.
This newly shaped force came unfamiliar in nature. Willing it forth, his left hand shimmered with a crimson-and-gold flame, dawn-fueled with radiant intensity while a dark gold blood-fire consumed his right.
For the first time in known legend, Night and Dawn burned at one soul together in seamless harmony.
Prior limits only permitted him to wield either force individually. He relied on dark gilded blood forces to fortify his form for front-line strikes and defenses—repair and regeneration, along with his primitive wings. And the dawn energy formed the backbone behind radiant slash-secrets and power techniques—driving high-damage saber skills and techniques like Dragon’s Dirge within energy lances.
Yet here now at hand flowed both—twinned, balanced, mutable to thought—one able to shape-shift seamlessly as thought guided the force itself.
Lost in contemplation he barely heard the voice call:
“Did you awaken…?”
Soft yet raspy, her presence wavering slightly, and from within a rocky perch where a stone pavilion opened, he walked to see Ye Tune seated by the poolside, her eyes fixed blankly on the placid aquamarine of ripples.
Qian Ye approached with concern.
“What’s the matter?”
She drew breath.
“Reno … it has left this world.”
She murmured.
“Reno?” Recognition dawning with a blink, recalling finally that was the Blue Ruler’s personal name.
When he’d first regained consciousness, his mind foggy and unfocused at first—the presence of the Blue King remained etched within like spring winds—nothing in him resembling any sense of nearing decay in that period. In such healthy stasis as that time showed him, with the appropriate restoring protocols, the sovereign still held potentially centuries before inevitable fading, unless entering a deep restoration blood pool, where he might conceivably persist a new millennium.
Such an immense Ruler—how did He fall so soon?
He inquired, cautiously now,
“The King of Azure has……he’s—”
“Call him Reno,” she interrupted. “Once he had been my dear old friend…so you may rightly consider him a comrade-in-need and a kindred heart now, as well.”
She turned away from the water briefly, then resumed gazing into it with distant clarity.
He answered, reluctantly at first, but with warmth.
“…Alright.”
Truly across all criteria—age, experience, strength—the great ruler towered over young lives like an unscalable peak.
Qian Ye might have stood defiant at such presumption. But given the request’s source being Tunye herself, he bowed his heart to accepting it—tacitly accepting equals.
Ye Tune continued quietly observing fish dart in slow circles within the water’s reflections, before she finally spoke.
“When we clashed… I had thought you perished… and in that moment… neither did I choose to live.”
A tremor rippled in his chest at her words. Taking soft command of her hand into his he murmured, barely more than a breath:
“Sweet madness…must it be so?”
“I could only feel this way,” she whispered, eyes unfaltering.
Moments ticked by before the whisper found another continuation:
“It was Reno who intervened at last,” she continued gently, emotionless now but certain,
“He defied certain retribution—took the risk to break divine laws—by awakening Dream’s Edge, pulling both of us to his old castle… Dream’s Edge had originally been his blade of office—my most used blade…in our youth, we had shared its hilt often… many many ways…”
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