At the tip of Qian Ye’s finger burned the very essence known as Illusory Mists, an energy unrivaled in its ever-changing nature, a wonder unmatched in all existence.
Meidanzo had clearly seen or at least knew of the Illusory Mists, so when it appeared before him he cried out in recognition immediately; hence his audacious act which compelled him to risk everything and venture himself into this Inner World.
In this very moment of seeing the famed energy with his own eyes—a sliver of hope gleamed ahead to break a millennium-long confinement—Meidanzo, ever calm, for once lost his composure completely.
This was Anduoyah’s trump card that liberated him from Prince Noir’s shackles and upon which he established himself as the Eternal Night Sovereign.
Meidanzo’s usually unwavering tone carried a huskiness now as he reached out instinctively; but just then, he witnessed the spark of Mists sputtered out from the tip of Qian Ye’s finger, halting his outstretched hand in mid-air. It drooped back only after a long pause.
Composing his mind with effort, Meidanzo’s visage steeled seriously as he declared: “Give it to me. I possess no inferior gift to the Blackwing—but unlike he, who possesses the valor—I lack it. That which he has done, I too shall emulate. Should you gift me with such a seed, I would break the chains as well, ascend my throne atop Mt. Sanctum!”
“Ascend the Sanctum then what?”
Meidanzo shook, trembling under this simplistic question as he met Qian Ye’s eyes, his voice cracking further with desperation: “Show it—the kind that commands my reverence.”
“What next, when it has been seen?”
Meidanzo solemned himself resolutely then replied: “If it commands my reverence, even as I ascend my Sanctum Throne, yours shall by all rights stand above me. And should it not do so, we share still the Sanctum’s pinnacle as allies bound with unwavering loyalty. In the name of the Crimson Current shall my pledge be sworn.”
Qian Ye stayed indifferent, his voice smooth yet pointed: “Did you thus kneel before the Demon Emperor, then?”
With the hint of a smirk tugging on his lips, replied Meidanzo: “Far more gracious was the reception he showed to me. I shall hold practical reign of our newborn vampiric lineage under Queen of Night’s commandments. In the ranks of Demi-humans, my influence parallels Eternal Blaze—a shade higher now than Lord Maethfeld.”
“Still, upon whom do you kneel now?”
His breathing hastened a little as urgency colored Meidanzo’s explanation: “Then—could it be said, you carry also that chance of ascendance?”
“Answer me.”
“It is simply because the Demon Emperor already knows: for all I am, one of the Great Lords and heir of the Forgotten Age surviving till today, my blood carries undoubted purity. But we who walk as Lords, stranded with no path forward, we hunger nothing more—for ambition dies in such a vacuum. Thus his generous offering merely stirs faint interest rather than compel. You, though… you are no empty throne. You, Qian Ye, command the way towards the Sacred Heights!”
The volume of Meidanzo’s voice swelled again: “You cannot begin to picture, after lingering in a rut for an age, what the vision of new horizons, of new realities kindles inside!”
Then he whispered hoarsely with subdued longing: “I, I do not actually seek sovereignty upon this Sanctum throne—my heart aches simply to stand once there, to cast an eye on all that it beholds—it ends with this humble wish.”
A mixture somewhere between comprehension and uncertainty clouded Qian Ye’s expression at those words.
So saying, silence claimed once again Meidanzo’s lips as he awaited.
Reflecting for a brief moment Qian Ye murmured: “Different indeed are the paths leading unto the Sanctum Mount just as dawn’s Light and Eternal Night constitute the poles of primal Forces, yet one road bears evolution, other stillness.”
Then with his left hand, an aura misty swirled from his palm; a careful look told one it shifted ceaselessly, eluding complete prediction no matter his prowess—that same Illusion Mists which made Andoyah Sovereign. But understand this! Qian Ye controlled no genuine shard; instead its effect emerged briefly from the droplet essence of an awakened tree—once dispelled it vanished.
Entranced Meidanzo beholds thus when lo and behold—the left hand held aloft the feather now—its ashen grey unmoving in midair; it could seemingly float unchanged to the world’s dying breath. And not just him; he knew all too intimately what horrors this feather wrought.
In the hour he ran to save himself, these drifting fragments shackled his form, weighing relentless, pressing ceaselessly till he struck back down to Earth—no escape from their grasp. As violet shadowflames raged consuming him, the very feather disintegrating slowly yet still resisting beyond all proportion in endurance.
At that desperate turn, Meidanzo could barely begin fathoming the strange, inextricable grip of Qian Ye’s Forces before the pressing danger forced his attention elsewhere. Here he found rare opportunity.
And yet upon this feather’s gaze—his vision clung helplessly, no strength to withdraw.
It did not merely float. It resided. Here and now: motionless absolute. Baffling this sensation! The kind of riddle where thought follows thought—yet truth stays evanescently out of reach.
When he had observed for a long time, and switched eyes upon the restless energy in motion, then did realization dawn upon Meidanzo’s countenance. “Ah! Only because Dawn and Twilight Energies coexist within this realm does motion thus oppose it with steadfast calm!”
For truly in this feather lay equilibrium—it consumed equal quantities of surrounding Darkness and Light sustaining itself perpetuity until only but One Power should be removed—and thereby it would wane in due slow course; whereas the fluid Illusory Mists perpetually reshaped, in contrast to it being sustained through other Powers—these were polar opposites.
In truth Meidanzo was indeed sharp but bound by the fate of blood and unable to advance for centuries. At this one encounter he had begun to perceive solutions to dilemmas long pondered and the Sanctum way begun sketch itself clearly at the horizon of possibilities. But even if perceived wholly in the mind, he remained trapped unless his restrictive bloodline breaks anew—thus was necessary that dual seeds within Qian’s possession.
After a long pause contemplating the ashen feather before returning wistful eyes to the Illusory Mists again; exhaled in a heavy sigh “The permanence it promises… it demands a fundament so overwhelming—impossible to uphold with the strength I am given. Better still take with transformation in this illusion; change at least allows for tentative mastery through reflexes and clever thinking.”
For though Illusion relies on ceaseless change, mastery lay mainly in wit—the quickness of perception alone; indeed for noble Lords like the Prince Darkness many arcane methods exist to strengthen perception’s speed. Perhaps not yet capable, its mastery a distant hope.
In stark contrast lay the force of Chaos, heavy unfathomable in rigidity, its demands rising so absurdly that only the most powerful fundamental essences could withstand it. To merely exist it split the very fabric that is space! And this terrifying nature—just that infinitesimal shard—the kind even a mere Lord, a Being as Meidanzo was, dared not harbor in his self.
Then suddenly he gasped: “Surely—could it be—you’ve already—”
Calm was Qian ye’s affirmation: “Indeed I speak truth. Chaos it is—the essence in my power at present.”
Then it all became clear. A myriad emotions stirred on Meidanzo’s countenance. With a long breath he muttered, “Ah yes, that clarifies all…”
With renewed resolve he struggled upright, lowering himself single knee first into a bow: “Honor thus earned! Starting at once, though time should bear us ever high unto Sanctum Pinnacle my fealty remains—eternally your vassal.”
But no more did he add for the chilling sting of the Azure-Gold Deathblade pierced right to his Crimson Core.
Disbelief flooding through him, staring wide-mouthed at the blade through heart Meidanzo looked towards the steely visage above and asked softly, “Wh-… Why?”
“In remembrance of Reno.”
Yet… R… R…eno has perished… and I—was destined ascend… then why…”
“For Reno”.
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