Chương 411: Houses and a Banquet

The stasis-well of Crystal City was a silent, beautifully frozen world where even the loose quartz dust suspended in the air looked like tiny, floating diamonds. Crys led me up the crystal-glass steps of the main palace spire, her steps gliding with an un-failing, happy excitement that seemed to melt the cold stasis around us. Kaelen, after Crys insisted he'd join us, sat on her head, his star-speckled fur glowing with a soft, pulsing indigo as he soundlessly barked at the frozen fountains we passed.

"You have to tell me how you did it, Eren!" Crys pressed, looking back at me with giant, curious eyes.

"Already an Ascendant! I spent the last fifty cycles in the deep temporal-wells, and my mom says I still have to stabilize my spatial channels before I can even think about the breakthrough. It is highly unfair!"

"It was mostly a matter of uncompiled resources and some very aggressive soul-surgery, Crys," I smiled, my eyes softening as I looked at her.

"And a lot of luck. I didn't exactly have the luxury of taking my time."

"Hmph," she pouted, though her face flared with a warm, blue-pink light.

"Still. You have to teach me your core-rotations while you are here." We entered the inner palace chambers, where the golden stasis-veil was thinnest. Standing in the center of the grand, starlight-marble hall was Syntheia. Her appearance was majestic. She was as tall as ever, her bone-white crystalline skin translucent to the point of showing the faint, glowing gold channels of her internal mana-pathways.

She wore a flowing gown of woven sapphire-threads that hummed with a stable, highly advanced time-authority, and her head was crowned with a tiara of raw, unpolished kinetic quartz. When she saw me, her bottomless eyes dilated with a sudden, profound shock. She didn't drop her cup, but her telepathic presence trembled, detecting the absolute, unyielding density of my new Ascendant presence and the Progenitor's signature left on my soul gate.

"Eren Kai," Syntheia whispered, her telepathic voice smooth, level, and carrying the slow weight of an ancient noble.

"The... the signature has been magnified. You truly carry the mass of the First."

"I'm still just me, Syntheia," I said, offering a quiet, respectful nod of my head.

"But I've unlocked my Inner World. I've come to discuss our options before the systemic rift and the upcoming war decompiles my own."

"I know," she said, her visor shifting to a serious, calculated blue.

"And that is why I have set this up. We have an event to attend, Eren. A grand gathering of those who are loyal to the Hybrid Lineage, essentially a massive banquet hosted by my House." I frowned, my star-cores spinning in a cautious circle.

"A party? Syntheia, I don't have the time to play politics at a ball. The High Courts have already breached our outer coordinates and tried to leave some sort of mark on us through a student of mine. It appears their method wasn't successful but we're still not sure exactly what they were trying to do, and are preparing a planetary defense grid. Every second I spend here is a second I'm not training."

"It is not a mere ball, Eren," Syntheia explained, her voice quiet and serious.

"I am going to be the host, but the event is run by my family's ancient house — the House of Opal. We have predecessors and guests that are far more powerful than myself, people with influence and resources that could alter the course of the future. And these people... the guests who are attending... They are the representatives of the high-tier factions who have always been loyal to the Hybrid Line. They can prove to be useful allies, especially at times like these."

She took a step closer, her sapphire gown rustling against the stone.

"When the hybrid lineages vanished during the Great Shattering, these families went into deep, isolated seclusion, hiding their spires behind the rifts to escape the Court's purges. They are powerful, influential, and they possess armies and Spires that could be incremental assets for what's to come. If you show yourself — if you let them see the Hybrid Flame signature wreathed in your Domain — they will swear their loyalty to you. We need their help, Eren. We cannot fight the Courts alone."

I stared at her, my mind running through the calculations. She was right. A preemptive strike or a planetary shield wouldn't be enough if we were outnumbered and overpowered by the Court's. I needed much more time to reach a stage where I could have a chance to realistically challenge a Tier 12 or higher.

"Alright," I said, adjusting the collar of my cloak.

"I'll play the part. What is the plan?"

"They love a show, Eren," Syntheia smiled, a thin, graceful curve of her lips.

"The high-tier families of the Deep revere drama and authority, but you can trust that they will be absolutely loyal and devoted if they truly believe you are a Hybrid. I want you to hide in the background of the gallery under my wards and your Humming Veil. They should detect you but will not think much of it as long as you remain dormant. Let them feel the quiet, uncompiled stasis of your presence first.

Then, at a specific signal I will give you — a flash of sapphire light from my crown — you will walk into the hall and fully, absolutely wreathe the venue in your Domain and your Voidflame. Let them see who has returned."

"A dramatic entrance," I muttered dryly.

"Ferra's theater guilds would appreciate the staging." We translated our coordinates via her family's private Spire, appearing directly within the outer gallery of the grand venue. The Grand Concourse was a masterpiece of absolute, mind-boggling opulence. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The palace was built of condensed star-matter and unpolished diamond-quartz, floating inside a massive nebula where the gases were literally glowing with the uncompiled, amethyst-tinted essence of a hundred dead suns. Colossal pillars of hollow basalt rose to the ceiling, containing miniature, orbiting stars that cast a warm, golden starlight across the marble pathways. Rivers of liquid silver-starlight wound between manicured gardens of uncompiled starlight-willows, their gentle, harmonic chiming filling the air.

The guests were a gathering of the unrivaled elite. There were hundreds of them present — Warden-Lords wreathed in gaseous starlight, Void-Emperor diplomats, and ancient, pale Raelin scholars wearing flowing robes of uncompiled spatial-thread. Their suppressed presence sent deep, heavy vibrations through the basalt floor, each of them carrying a weight that surpassed any Ascendant I had ever encountered.

I stood in the shadowed gallery of the upper terrace, keeping my presence conceptually erased under the Nullifying Veil and my newly refined [Shroud]. I used my subtle perception to scan the crowd. I was careful and non intrusive, but as my gaze brushed against a tall, crystalline noble standing near the central fountain, my star-cores gave a sudden, cold hum. The noble was carved from a single, continuous sheet of dark amethyst-quartz, his silver hair pulsing with a quiet, high-frequency time-authority.

He was a powerful, high-tier Ascendant — perhaps a Grand Duke of the House of Obsidian. He turned his giant, pupil-less black eyes directly toward my shadowed coordinate. I quickly pulled back my perception, but it was too late. He had felt the micro-ripple of my scan. I was completely baffled; my newly refined Void-stealth was supposed to be completely, conceptually silent, especially since the scan was completely surface level, yet this man had felt my gaze as if I had tapped him on the shoulder.

Before I could initiate a [Temporal Slide] to predict his reaction, the space in front of my boots sheared. The amethyst-quartz noble manifested directly in the shadowed gallery, his tall, nine-foot frame looming over my hiding spot, his black-and-silver silk robes settling around his boots. His eyes flared with a sharp, hostile light.

"Who are you?" his telepathic voice carrying the deep, resonant chime of a struck bell.

"And why do you watch the Concourse from the shadows under a Veil of uncompiled Void? Are you a spy sent by the higher registries?" I kept my hands in my pockets, my star-cores spinning in a tight, defensive idle.

"I'm a guest of the House of Opal, Duke. I was simply enjoying the view." The man took a step closer, his horizontal visor narrowing as he prepared to flare his Domain. But the moment his perception brushed against my soul gate, detecting the unbending, non-hostile signature left by the Progenitors, his posture went completely, deathly rigid. The quartz staff in his hand slipped from his fingers, clattering against the basalt terrace.

The Grand Duke's giant black eyes widened, his bone-white face turning almost translucent with shock. He began to shake violently, tears of clear, mana-saturated water trickling down his amethyst-quartz cheeks. He looked almost completely human in his raw, overwhelming grief.

"The... the signature..." the Duke whispered, his telepathic voice trembling with an absolute, long-forgotten reverence.

"The... the time has finally come. The First... has returned." I stared at him, my mind running through the calculations. Another one who thinks I'm him. The delusion is truly universal among the Sunder-Kin loyalists. Before I could answer, a bright, sudden flash of sapphire light flared from the central dais of the palace below. The Grand Duke looked down at the light, then turned his weeping eyes back to my face. He bowed his head deeply, his hands pressed to his chest.

"Forgive my rudeness. I... I did not know. Go. The Concourse is waiting for your light." He stepped backward into the shadow-veils, disappearing into the sub-layers of the void with an effortless, respectful grace. I let out a slow, analytical breath. I adjusted the collar of my cloak, wove my star-cores into a maximum, screaming rotation, and stepped out of the shadowed gallery into the open air of the grand hall. I dropped my [Nullifying Veil] completely.

With a single, silent translation of coordinates, I manifested on the high, black-crystal dais overlooking the grand concourse, my boots producing a loud, heavy thud on the basalt stone. I flared my Tier 9 Domain of the Ashen, allowing the presence of my inner world to project outwards. The unyielding weight of my gravity-domain slammed into the opulent venue like a physical hammer.

The silver-starlight rivers stopped their gentle lapping, turning to flat, mirror-like sheets of purple glass, and the floating quartz pyramids in the atmosphere groaned as their orbits were physically pulled toward my coordinate.

"Who is this?!" a gaseous starlight lord shrieked in the crowd, his visor flaring with a defensive, pale-pink light.

"Every guest must have been accounted for! He carries a forbidden signature! Capture him!" Dozens of elite crystalline knights raised their staves, preparing to charge the dais. I didn't draw my sabre. I simply willed the [Voidflame] to flare. A viscous, black-red liquid fire began to drip from my gauntlets, the entropic heat of the flame systematically deleting the ambient mana of the palace.

The golden starlight of the mini-stars flickered and died, the uncompiled silence of my zeroth-tier [Symphony] expanding through the room like a cold wave of absolute nothingness. The moment the black-red liquid fire touched the basalt dais, the entire massive, lavish venue went completely, utterly silent. The shouting of the gaseous lords, the flaring of the kinetic staves, and the whispering of the nobles died a sudden, violent death. Not a single soul in the opulent concourse dared to breathe.

They felt the absolute, unyielding density of the Voidflame and the ultimate signature of the First. From the front of the crowd, the amethyst-quartz Grand Duke walked slowly toward the base of the dais. He looked up at my black carapace with tears in his eyes, and then, slowly, he dropped to his knees, his forehead brushing the dark basalt stone. One by one, the other guests followed. The gaseous starlight lords, the void-beast diplomats, the ancient Raelin scholars, and the elegant ladies of the high houses...

they all dropped to their knees, their different colored robes sweeping the basalt floor as they bowed their heads. The entire grand concourse was kneeling. And in the center of the silent, dead room, the only light remaining was the violet-red flare of my own, unyielding Domain.