Chương 458: Pleasant Respite

The Horizon Festival transformed Bastion into an incredible, glowing spectacle of light, color, and elemental music. Thousands of floating quartz light-orbs illuminated the dark slate avenues in a warm, amber radiance. Banners woven from glowing S'skarr silk and House Opal starlight-thread hung from the high spires, fluttering gently in the evening wind.

The central plazas were packed with tens of thousands of citizens — Ferran human cultivators and delvers, S'skarr phase-traders and scouts, Dweorg engineers and blacksmiths, Lorian scholars, Elven citizens and merchants from Aethelgard, and hundreds of off-world delegates who had arrived from our Sector. The festival grounds were a breathtaking fusion of Earth's creative imagination and exotic, multi-sector arcane technology.

Along the main avenues, Dweorg artificers and S'skarr phase-weavers had built floating, gravity-defying carousels where children rode condensed, glowing mana-beasts through the air. Magical street performers used precision elemental shaping to create giant, three-dimensional illusion shows depicting historical battles from the Confluence, while food vendors sold "Celestial Mana-Cotton" — a sweet, glittering confection that dissolved on the tongue into pure, refreshing elemental essence.

Carnival games offered rare rewards, ranging from miniature kinetic relays to self-warming pet-crystals. To enjoy the festivities without being instantly mobbed by eager crowds or formal diplomatic entourages, I wove a light, comfortable layer of my [Prime Axiom's Nullifying Veil] over our group — myself, Anna, Crysanthe, Grandpa Arthur, Syntheia and Aurelius. Walking under the veil was a wonderful, grounded experience.

To the passing crowds, we looked like ordinary, well-dressed citizens enjoying an evening stroll. The air in the central plaza tasted divine — a rich, mouth-watering mix of Masha's roasted magma-drake ribs, sweet fruit pastries from the Zenith, and spiced basalt-tubers sizzling over open thermal hearths. As Jeeves walked beside us, he provided a detailed rundown of the staggering diplomatic and security logistics managing the event.

Hundreds of dozens of foreign delegations from diverse alien species — towering, fiery-haired Ifrit scholars, four-armed Chitinous trade masters, multi-limbed Centaur-Kin diplomats, and crystalline nobles from House Opal — were mingling throughout the plaza. Yet, not a single one of these off-world guests knew Ferra's true spatial coordinates.

"The security protocol engineered by Kasian, ANON, and myself is absolute, Master," Jeeves explained, his voice low and impeccably professional.

"Every foreign delegation was instructed to land on a designated, heavily veiled Staging World in Quadrant K-02. Before crossing the threshold, every delegate signed a non-systemic Soul-Secrecy Binding that permanently locks their memory-lattices regarding our spatial route."

"They were then translated directly from the Staging World to Bastion's inner Spire vaults," Jeeves continued, a subtle, proud smile touching his lips.

"Even if a High Court diviner scried their memories, they would find only a blank, starlight-lead hallway connecting two uncompiled coordinates." I looked at Jeeves, genuinely impressed by the sheer, multi-layered genius of their contingency planning.

"Jeeves, that is brilliant. You've brought thousands of off-world allies to our doorstep without exposing a single coordinate to the Courts."

"A simple precautionary measure, Master," Jeeves bowed smoothly. As we walked past a line of floating trade stalls, a loud, aggressive altercation caught my attention near an outer-sector merchant display.

"You think your dirty outer-sector skimmed shards are worth full market value here?!" A muscular human cultivator in heavy iron-plated armor shouted, shoving a thin, feathered avian merchant from a neighboring covenant.

"Ferra is the capital of the Void Star! You either pay the proper local tax, or we will seize your booth!" I stopped, my Perception scanning the aggressive cultivator's armor. I recognized the emblem etched onto his shoulder-guard: it was the old crest of the Iron Covenant — the human tribal faction that had held some towers and had significant power on Ferra during the earlier days of the Integration. I thought they had been fully integrated by now but perhaps not everyone was on the same page.

I stepped forward, dropping a fraction of my veil as I walked between the armed cultivator and the frightened avian merchant.

"Some of you guys are still adamant on making trouble?" I asked softly, my voice carrying a quiet, dry humor that instantly made the iron-armored cultivator freeze in his tracks. The cultivator looked at my face, recognizing my features as I further dropped my veiling. His aggressive posture collapsed in a fraction of a millisecond, his face turning pale as his knees buckled.

"L-Lord Eren! Forgive me! I was merely enforcing local trade priority—""You were bullying a guest," I corrected calmly, stepping between them.

"Ferra is no longer a world governed by tribal dominance or primitive posturing. The Void Star is a home for everyone who seeks freedom under our banner. If an outer-sector merchant pays the standard market fee, they receive the exact same respect as a native Ferran." I looked at the terrified Iron Covenant cultivator, my tone firm but reasonable.

"Apologize to the merchant, pay for any damaged items on his display, and report to the municipal administrative office for a refresher course on civic law."

"Y-yes, Lord!" The cultivator bowed frantically, pressing a pouch of shards into the avian merchant's hands before sprinting down the avenue. The feathered avian merchant bowed deeply to me, his beak trembling with gratitude.

"Thank you, Lord Ascendant! Your generosity is truly boundless." If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Enjoy the festival," I smiled, adjusting my robes as we continued down the avenue. A few minutes later, Joyce — the current leader of the Iron Covenant who had formally integrated her people into Bastion's municipal council — approached our group, offering a formal, apologetic bow.

"Lord Eren," Joyce said, her posture respectful.

"I heard about the incident at the trade display. I apologize for my people's behavior. Most of our members are deeply proud of what Ferra had become and respect Bastion, but a few of the older elites have hit severe cultivation bottlenecks recently. Seeing the city prosper and offer others elixirs and pills while their own cores remain stuck at Tier 4 or Tier 5 has made them bitter."

"I understand, Joyce," I nodded, keeping my tone warm.

"Sudden societal growth naturally leaves certain groups feeling left behind. We won't punish the whole covenant for a few bitter individuals. In fact, I am working with Kasian to expand our municipal cultivation academies so every citizen, regardless of their original faction, has access to high-tier breakthrough pills, manuals and guided core-rotations." Joyce's eyes lit up with genuine relief and gratitude.

"Thank you. Your wisdom continues to humble us."

"Oh gods, not you too. Joyce, it's fine, don't worry about it," I laughed. After Joyce returned to her duties, Anna nudged my arm with a dry, humorous grin.

"You know, Eren," Anna joked, taking a sip of fruit wine from a clay cup, "it's pretty funny watching Jeeves, Nyx and Kasian run an entire multi-sector empire, manage complex planetary defense grids, and organize a galactic festival in the background... while your job is literally just to go punch things and drink essence in deep void black holes." Anna let out a loud, delighted laugh, nudging my arm with her elbow.

"Hey, don't sell yourself short, brother! You're also really good at yelling 'You dare?!' at arrogant slavers off-world!" Aurelius dropped his veil with a boisterous laugh, slapping my shoulder so hard the wine in my cup sloshed.

"Hahaha! The girl is right, kid! Every great civilization needs a terrifying monster at the top to keep the wolves away while the bureaucrats count the shards! Nothing to be ashamed of!" Aurelius immediately took advantage of his dropped veil to drag me toward the high diplomatic pavilions.

"Come, kid!" Aurelius beamed, grabbing my arm.

"It's time for some real diplomacy! I want to introduce you to a few trade delegations who nearly wet their pants when I flattened those six Archons last month!" For the next hour, Aurelius boisterously introduced me to dozens of high-level ambassadors, guildmasters, and representatives from local sector powerhouses who had traveled to Ferra for the auction.

The delegates looked at me with a mix of deep, spiritual awe and profound relief, relieved to find that the "Ashen Emperor who had returned" was a reasonable, grounded leader rather than a bloodthirsty tyrant. We visited the grand Auction Stage in the central plaza. The scale of the commerce taking place was mind-boggling.

I stood on the upper viewing terrace alongside Crys and Anna, watching bidding wars erupt over Leoric's lead-alloy armor plating, Eliza's soul-soothing elixirs, and pre-Shattering data-slates recovered from our subterranean expeditions. Billions of Quintessence Shards, rare elemental ores, and off-world contract slates were changing hands every hour.

"Leoric's foundries and Eliza's research departments have been working on absolute overdrive," I admitted, genuine amazement in my voice as I watched an outer-sector guildmaster purchase a crate of our kinetic quartz relays for eight hundred million shards.

"They've been working night and day," Crysanthe smiled proudly, her white-gold skin shimmering under the light-orbs.

"They wanted to make sure Bastion showed absolute, overflowing prosperity to every visitor." Following the auction tour, we made our way to the primary spectacle of the festival: the grand Tournament Arena. The arena was a colossal, nine-hundred-thousand-seat amphitheater carved from magnetic slate, surrounded by heavy containment barriers. The stands were packed to absolute capacity, hundreds of thousands of spectators cheering, waving banners, and shouting for their favorite fighters.

As we walked through the competitor pits behind the main stage, several young tournament fighters — a mix of native Ferran humans, S'skarr, and local mercenaries — spotted us. A young, scarred Ferran swordsman in the competitor pit froze, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as he recognized my face beneath my cloak.

"L-Lord Ascendant!" The young fighter gasped, throwing himself into a formal, deep bow, his hands trembling with excitement.

"It... it is truly you!"

"Rise, young warrior," I smiled warmly, stepping forward.

"How are your matches going?"

"I won my semi-final match in my group, Lord Eren!" The young swordsman beamed, his voice trembling with pride.

"I've been practicing the non-linear sword-slopes you demonstrated at the Academy! Ever since you defeated those giant Kyorian dreadnought-pyramids in the sky during the Crucible and made them rain down like falling stars... every cultivator on Ferra has dreamed of standing where you stand!"

"You've built a solid foundation," I encouraged him, gently tapping his shoulder guard.

"Keep your core-rotation balanced, and don't rush your strikes. You're going to do great in the finals." The young fighter looked like he had just been blessed, bowing repeatedly as he ran back to his prep corner to show off to his friends. We took our seats in the central royal box overlooking the arena. The tournament matches were a breathtaking display of growth and skill.

I watched with genuine, deep pride as the young side characters of our city — Jared, Vesk, Talise, and Toby — showcased their incredible progress on the arena floor. Jared deployed precise, micro-thin gravity slopes to deflect heavy kinetic strikes from off-world mercenaries, Vesk used her phase-assassin slits to appear behind her opponents with zero spatial delay, and Talise wove non-linear wind-currents that disarmed her opponents before they could even complete their stance wind-ups in the Tier 3 tournament.

The off-world visitors and mercenaries who had entered the tournament expecting easy victories against "provincial refugees" were utterly stunned, getting systematically out-maneuvered and defeated by Bastion's young prodigies. By the late afternoon, the arena announcer's voice boomed across the stadium, announcing the final matchup for the Under-Tier 5 Championship. The crowd erupted into a deafening, stadium-shaking roar that shook the quartz pillars.

To the sheer shock of every off-world delegate and the immense pride of our entire city, the two fighters stepping onto the arena floor for the grand final were both Bastion Academy students — Jared and Vesk — who had completely swept through every single off-world competitor in their bracket. I leaned back in my royal seat beside Anna, Crys, and Aurelius, a wide, proud, and deeply satisfied grin spreading across my face as the two young warriors bowed to each other in the center of the ring.

Our young generation was thriving, and the future of Ferra was brighter than it had ever been. I took a sip of wine, adjusted my robes, and settled in to watch the finals.