The Council of Eternal Night.
The Roundtable Assembly.
Within a majestic hall a hundred meters in length, width, and height, thirteen thrones stood. But for all its spaciousness, the atmosphere felt compressed, almost stifling. Though not all thrones had been occupied, the powerful aura each formidable presence exuded filled the hall, threatening, at times, to pierce the very heavens.
A swirling mass of shadow lifted steadily from the dark bronze throne, gradually coalescing into the ever-changing hooded robe of the council president.
His gaze slowly swept over the assembly, exchanging respectful acknowledgements with every faction leader. But it lingered a fraction longer upon the side of the vampiric delegation.
This meeting happened to witness exceptionally full attendance from the Vampire Clan—filling their allotted three seats for the first time in centuries—with one familiar face amid them unseen in centuries past.
The president offered an especially warm greeting: “Ah, Renau, beloved ally. One seldom sees their old friends these days.”
The seat of authority within the千年 assembly now shifted to the turn of Demonkin rule.
For many from this race or its vampiric cousins who had entered middle ages, hibernation or long-term secluded cultivation was often required to delay aging while retaining power. Yet peace remained an elusive fantasy upon this realm—it was not at all uncommon to awaken from isolation to learn of a dearly familiar figure having passed into obscurity.
Renau dipped his head modestly. “Just visiting the elders before retreating again soon.”
Slight curiosity flickered across High President’s features, “And I assumed you’d wish to observe this transformed world?”
A barely perceptible smile graced the corner of Renau’s mouth, remaining otherwise unanswering.
The High Councilor instantly understood, steering past probing queries to formally address the assembly. But before proceeding fully, his eyes focused deliberately for a moment on Renau’s elegantly poised right hand. Nothing abnormal presented itself upon superficial examination—Yet periodically, drops of blood mysteriously emerged from his idle finger, vanishing just as mystically.
Renau bore an unreadable serenity—an aura of effortless detachment masking whatever lay beneath his fingertips.
“Begin assembly proceedings.”
There were no idle words. Straight and swift, the High Crier proclaimed with a hammer-blow: “The Tian Wang Changsheng Wang of Da Qin has fallen.”
Silence held for but a heartbeat before it was breached once more.
“That message has already been independently verified; Emperor’s court publicly announced the tragedy day before last night within his sovereign domains.”
The ancient Spider Warlord Shaska tugged a lip—glistening ivory incisors gleaming beneath lantern-like lights.
“Delightful news. Grand Seer Merri noted a ripple disturbance emanating from the palace district of Da Qin, but this exceeds expectations. Time then, to initiate the *Sanguine Funerals*. Correct?!”
This aged arachnid progenitor had seen eras unfold longer than the foundations of Da Qin itself; public appearances had grown infrequently sparse in recent decades—command delegated largely now to the youthfulness of young Rozzahh and a host others.
Whispers long held suspect old Shaska might well now edge into progressive decline…
Yet no evidence arose tonight to suggest wounding lust ever lessened.
Amilo meanwhile interjected in uncertainty “Target which province then… Qinhall?”
Even now, it might behoove mentioning: the term, ‘blood funeral,’ possessed its entrenched traditions.
Though recent centuries upheld a relative global stability wherein neither the eternal alliance, nor Imperial holdings saw open large-scale conflict across these four long-contested domains; for both sides the prior border skirmishes still yielded useful testing grounds for strategy and resources alike. Whereas launching war outright on Da Qin’s ancestral homelands entailed excessive stakes and negligible gain.
There remained, however—*one singular exception*.
And that exception bore the tragic circumstance of an Imperial Celestial Monar—whose ranks had mostly remained intact, numbering between four to five such entities—responsible for defending those very provinces themselves.
Upon hearing such misfortune—a scheduled offensive, dubbed as Blood Funerals commenced promptly, aimed not merely symbolic but a thorough probing assault.
A double purpose lay hidden therein: testing successors as a warning, yet simultaneously sniffing toward instability within the throne’s power structures.
Should this incoming Celestial show lacking prowess, or worse yet, poor synchronization with regional defenses—this symbolic ritual swiftly transformed into total conquest.
Even failing evident vulnerabilities, opportunities arose unpredictably across remaining continents, seized upon during shifting tides within the Imperial House—opportunities too precious to waste.
One lunar phase earlier, Eternal Night’s Supreme Seer Meldar, having barely predicted the dawn of the ‘new reality’, reported strange turbulence emanating from Qin’s Celestial throne.
However tangled threads of prophecy proved impenetrable—oblique signs offered no direct clarity. As preparations paused to prepare this prophesized ‘Ascended Reality,’ even subtle signs of turmoil amidst Men must not be underestimated.
Eternal Night made ready.
Each species worked behind closed doors. *Yet this would be no skirmish.* Launching a Sanguinated Funeral on such pivotal land—one protected directly by ChangSheng’s very presence across millenniums… fortified far in excess of outer虚空堡垒 (虚空堡垒). A place where Da Qin’s bloodlines were bred to die defending.
The Dark Sovereigns’ three-headed inquiry surfaced then via Modenjar of Crimson Dawn.
“Before we proceed,” cautioned Modenjar, “We’ve ongoing open field confrontations elsewhere; that theater of war, alone has drained half the manpower of total mobilization. From reports filtering in, results upon those floating continents remain… *unsatisfactory*.”
Surveying the gathered elite rulers around said chamber table, then speaking only after silence settled like falling night: “Upon Supreme Seer Meldaro’s revelation, we presented this intelligence to thrones of the Three Absolute Kings.
High Emperors Cain and Roznia responded swiftly following this counsel.”
And thus did he paused again—permitting this message to settle with greater implication.
Stirrings arose. All understood—the Nightfallen Empress remained sealed within slumber. However, with Demon King and Arachnia Queen—despite currently awake—also locked within inner sanctum, their minds wholly upon new realities awaiting beyond.
That even those mighty deign acknowledgment meant this crisis bore *transcendent severity indeed.*
The High Steward pressed solemnly:
“With superior wisdom to us all, each Sovereign King watches over Da Qin’s shifting fate—a premonition suggesting Man’s affairs shall alter fates affecting even us.”
Hence, we dispatched *All ranked Sword-Binders of the Black Sun,* beginning full surveillance across all Celestial realms—Five Stars and higher already mobilised, fully prepared!
The very *Black Sun*—the most dreaded direct arm of The Council’s armed might! An intelligence corps and elite fighting force so rarefied; one lowly Sword-Holder—a lowliest One-ranked Star Commander still held titles equal or beyond Baronic rank by mortal standards. And one out of three prodigal elites in formative years had passed briefly, at least, through this elite organization.
This, then, brought more measured reactions than the previous shocking statement—these were men and women wise enough to see war’s shadow in plain sunlight.
“We face no immediate Celestials’ deficiency on Da Qin side. Should we discuss purely the martial aspects, Zhang Boquan, recent inducted Tian Wang already steps fully into such absence.”
“Long-standing precedent holds that in the case DaQin Capital is left bereaver’s post—that a shift should normally entail transferring the seat to another Celestial.”
“Yet according to recent intercepted reports… That has *remarkably not taken place yet.*”
Modanjar interjected curtly mid-flow: “From an Imperial capital and Qin heartland defense framework’s perspective—one of these royal blood might possess near-Celestial capacity sufficient to activate fortress-level arms at full operational mode, rendering Tian Wang level defense redundant *at least temporarily*.”
A thoughtful silence settled.
The difference between *Four,* vs *Five*, such forces—became no minor discrepancy, specifically with that unpredictable variable—Boquan potentially filling roles.
A nod followed by the council leader:
“Ascertained accurately yes. And indeed according to newly obtained data, internal turbulence within Qin remains minimal.”
There, he made yet another deliberate gap before adding somberly—”Or so what little external evidence reveals… which implies… rewards from such turmoil prove equally scarce.”
“Hence, my own proposition proposes: our *Funerary March* shall be primarily for reconnaissance only. That said, upon these drifting frontiers, let us—*one last climactic war,* before the portal into the newly unveiled world—be waged against Da Qin.”
“The council will commit fully to the forces amassed so far, as for normal combatants—each race’s appointed battlegroups—remain at battle-readiness for mobilisation after this session’s closing.”
“And finally, let us renew our ancient customs by carving up territories gained through first battles waged in these ascending realms.”
Sasha’s claw scraped once upon desk in agreement: “Second the motion.”
Amiro frowned, “Drifting fields already have extensive commitments… Are you raising up the scale of War Tier then?”
Councilhead shook no. “Not at all. In fact, not a Wargrade escalation, considering Ascended reality awaits unveiling momentarily, truces having newly forged, I’m confident many Lords bear heavy duties still upon homeworld. As for current enhancements on individual units scattered amongst the fields, such are purely the decision-making of one particular faction—neither endorsed nor opposed. Reality bore it wisdom—we were vindicated in this—Da Qin’s side committed surprisingly abundant Divine Generals.”
Hazy comprehension still clouded Aemillus’ vision—though one side glance thrown between Modanjar-Shaksa pair, caused epiphany.
Grumbling, he grumbled.
A couple nearby lesser-ranking Princes felt uncomfortable at these heavy overflows of restrained power before a faint rap on mahogany caught attention—A subtle knock on the table by Renau’s fingertips—Aemillio’s glance flickered, the heavy weight of aura lifting just a fraction.
Though wavering still…
“Alright then. Seconding it.”
An eldritch shaman of Demonkin clan—accompanied by a minor princely figure representative from Everburning Flame sect—voted with no objection, their course pre-foreseen.
Modanjar spoke lowly: “Therefore—who will command the ‘Feast of Tears?'”
President answered slowly: “*Emperor Cain,* and *Dark Mother Rosia’s* eyes burn in that direction… naturally, *someone capable* awaits there.”
The expression upon Modanjarr’s countenance soured to pitch-darkness—a sound escaping as barely restrained through gritted teeth—”Seconded…!”
Only two out from three Blood Lords present had arrived for discussion—Renau’s curt interjection—”Second the plan.”
Lastly then: *Though escalation to the upper war-level not yet approved—coordination demanded a Noble Prince be urgently reassigned to these floating provinces*.
Seeming to sigh with theatrical regret, CouncilHead added: “*Da Qin* has sent too many Royal Heirs; we cannot allow mere Dukes sufficing this contest!”
For both Lords and Princes—the high tiers across various nations held similarly scant numbers, most burdened instead with vital administrative governance roles. Unless the unfolding campaign truly turned unexpectedly complex, deploying a Noble Prince should be entirely unnecessary. And truthfully speaking, lacking intervention on Da Qin’s divine celestial level, battlefield security seemed not an imminent problem.
Almost instantaneously—All gazed towards VAMPIRIC DEPUTIES.
A traditional custom guided them all: Should Demons and Spiders oversee mainland operations—then Floating Islands logically required Vampiric Lords, accompanied appropriately by Werewolf co-supercision.
Except Lycans, at this precise rank lacked a contender, nor did these strained engagements grant bandwidth to further rival the Blood Lords—Amilio said no more…
“Word reached… Did this famed herald, *Dark gospel Howard,* show again at the scene as well?”
The Seer from Crimson Dawn—Modanjar—gave cold stare.
“No. And considering urgency at battlefield, why delay dispatch by chasings myths?”
Without delay—His gaze cut to Haps, stating clearly, “Appoint Prince Heeps.”
Unfazed and unruffled, President shrugged. “So long that it’s from Vampires, the nomination is yours.”
Princely Heeps however gave not answer. No gesture emerged from him; tension thickened.
The air hung heavy in that unspoken hush between them all, as a decision awaited still in silence.
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