Human Realm

Pangea Sovereignty

Yelena Star System

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A massive, biomechanical serpent with wings of gleaming white alloy slipped silently into the Yelena star system. Its sleek, sinuous body looked like a living battlecruiser—an eerie fusion of flesh and runecraft engineering. The vessel, both bone-chilling and awe-inspiring, carried Master Change on its journey to Tianglong space dock.

Tianglong space dock, the sole habitable structure in the Yelena system, gleamed like a jewel in the darkness of space. Officially, it was the pride of the Pangea Sovereignty, a thriving hub where merchants and emissaries gathered to barter rare goods and exchange exotic wares from across the star cluster. Its bustling corridors, teeming with life, radiated the promise of prosperity and cooperation.

But this shimmering facade hid a darker purpose. Tianglong Space Dock wasn’t just a trading capital—it was a carefully designed machine for espionage. Beneath its polished exterior, it served as the nerve center of a sprawling intelligence network. Secrets flowed through its walls like invisible rivers, drawn from unsuspecting merchants, diplomats, and nobles. The Zodiac Council, cloaked in shadow, wove these strands of information into a web of power, manipulating the galaxy to serve their hidden agendas.

Deep within a concealed chamber of Space dock's interstellar bay, the Zodiac Council gathered in an emergency session. One of their critical operations had failed, forcing them to halt their plans and reevaluate. For their grand designs to work, every move needed to be perfect, every player in the game aligned.; even one misplaced domino could topple their entire design. A single frayed thread in their masterfully woven web threatened to unravel everything, leaving the spider ensnared in its own trap, crushed beneath the weight of its grand ambition.

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Zodiac Council

Twelve seats of power encircled the Jade Counter, with eleven filled, while the Rabbit's crescent-shaped throne sat conspicuously empty.

The Dragon, leaning back in his ornately scaled throne, drummed his fingers against the table impatiently. His golden eyes scanned the room, blazing with barely contained irritation.

Dragon: [irritated] “How much longer are we supposed to wait? This is absurd.”

Rat: [calmly] "Patience, Dragon. The Rabbit has never been one for tardiness. Let’s move through the roll while we wait."

Ox: [nodding thoughtfully] "Agreed. We’ll mark the others present and address the issue once we’re all accounted for."

Rat: [without pause] "Fine. Let’s get it over with. I’ll call the roll."

Rat: [unbothered] “Fine, fine. Let’s get it over with.” [glancing down at the list] “The Rat is present, obviously. Ox?”

Ox: [with a serious tone] "Present. I’ve heard whispers—Vanir's heard the thunder."

Rat: "Tiger?"

Tiger: [eyes narrowing] "Here. If we can track the remaining four, the dream is still within reach."

Rat: "Dragon?"

Dragon: [gruffly] "Here. Can we skip the formalities and get on with it?"

Rat: [unfazed] "Patience, remember?" [glancing down at the list] "Snake?"

Snake: [with a slithering calm] "Here. And we must discuss the conquest of the sanguine—for the blood falls."

Rat: "Horse?"

Horse: "Here."

Rat: "Goat?"

Goat: [thoughtfully] "Present. Though the Rabbit’s delay gives us space to reconsider our approach."

Dragon: [snorting] "Reconsider? More like delay inaction."

Rat: [ignoring him] "Monkey?"

Monkey: [flipping a coin in the air] "Here. And remember, Dragon—our ancestors’ dream came alive only after the Rabbit breathed life into it."

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Rat: "Rooster?"

Rooster: [sternly] "Here. Enough distractions—let’s not lose the plot."

Rat: "Dog?"

Dog: "Present. Though I must agree with Rooster—we’re wasting time."

Rat: "And finally, Pig?"

Pig: "Present."

Rat: [gesturing to the empty seat] "Well, that’s everyone except Rabbit. Until she arrives, I suppose we—"

Dragon: [cutting in] "Wait again? For how long? We’re here because a single, defenseless human survived. One child—and you’re suggesting we put everything on hold for the Rabbit to ‘hop’ here?"

The council shifted uncomfortably, but it was Tiger who responded first, her voice low and measured.

Tiger: "Careful, Dragon. You know the rules. "All voices must be heard before any decisions are made, hers included."

Dragon: [snarling] "And what will her voice offer? The human was supposed to fall. Instead, they live."

Snake: [calmly but pointedly] "Dragon, your fire burns too hot. The Rabbit’s absence isn’t an excuse for recklessness. Or does your temper flare because the light has yet to reach your eyes?”

Dragon: [slamming a clawed hand on the table] "Watch your tongue, Snake. This failure puts everything at risk. Waiting accomplishes nothing—it’s a weakness we can’t afford. We must act now, or we lose it all."

Goat: [softly, yet firmly] "And acting without consensus brings something worse: disorder among us. The Rabbit will arrive. Until then, focus your energy on solving, not seething.”

Without warning, a soft breeze stirred within the council hall. At first, it was barely noticeable—a faint whisper of air curling through the chamber. Then, with a sudden shift, the air began to coalesce; the molecules pulling together and arranging themselves in a neat order.

At the center of the room, a figure emerged—slowly, surely—as though the air itself had birthed her into being. Master Change took form, each gaseous atom coming together, a whisper of movement that grew into something solid, something tangible. The process was so subtle that, despite their heightened senses, no one had anticipated it.

She stood before them now, her presence undeniable, her form both fluid and defined, as the wind turned into flesh. The council members, even those as powerful as they were, blinked in unison. For beings who could reduce entire star systems to nothing with a thought, this was a rarity. They had failed to sense her approach—until she was already there.

Their collective composure briefly disrupted. Among them, Dragon’s golden eyes narrowed, his pride wounded by her silent audacity. He shifted in his chair, his immense frame taut with barely contained anger.

"You—"

He shifted in his seat, his immense form shifting as if ready to strike. His claws twitched, eager to rend, eager to tear.

Dragon: "How dare you—using the very breath of life for your petty theatrics!"

Master Change, unfazed, tilted her head ever so slightly. Her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, one that seemed to mock and reassure all at once. Without a word, she raised her hand. Her body shimmered, then dissolved into the air, her form vanishing like smoke caught in a draft.

Dragon lunged, his talons slashing through the space she’d occupied mere moments before. His claws met nothing but shifting currents, passing through the wisps of air as though they were trying to grasp the wind itself.

Dragon: "You think you can hide from me?!"

Master Change: [amused] “Hide? No, Dragon. You see only what your mind permits you to see.”

Before anyone could react, she moved—not outward, but inward. Silent, seamless, and without a trace of violence, she slipped into him. Through his mouth, her presence invaded, intangible and invisible, like the wind finding every crack in a fortress. His body tensed, but it was too late.

Within his lungs, she spread, weaving herself into the very core of his existence. Slowly, methodically, she drained him. His mana, his breath, the essence of life that defined him as a Tier 6 arcane being—all of it was drawn out, siphoned away as though it were nothing more than vapor. His power, once immense, faded to nothing.

His massive form trembled, weakened beyond comprehension. His mind, sharp and primal, screamed for action, but his body wouldn’t obey. His senses flailed desperately, seeking her presence, but she was everywhere and nowhere at once. He was helpless—a dragon reduced to a husk.

When it was over, Master Change emerged from him. The surrounding air rippled as her form took shape once more, composed and unbothered, as though the ordeal had cost her nothing.

The Dragon, now feeble and hollow, crumpled to the floor. He tried to raise his head, but his strength failed him. He could only watch, his golden eyes dim with disbelief, as she stood over him.

With the same calm grace she had carried throughout, Master Change raised her hand. In a single, fluid motion, she severed his head from his shoulders.

The dragon’s massive body crashed to the ground, the impact reverberating through the hall. The sound echoed in the stunned silence, filling the void where words dared not tread.

Master Change turned her gaze to the remaining council members, her expression serene, her voice carrying a casual edge of finality.

Master Change: [lightly, almost lazily] “Anyone else here has a problem?”

She scanned the room, her eyes lingering on each member‌. None of them spoke. None dared to.

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The dragon’s body was swiftly removed from the council chamber, its immense form couriered to the House of Sea. There, the next heir would conduct the sacred rites, laying the predecessor to rest and taking their rightful place on the throne of dragons.

"Before we start bickering over this nuisance, let me make one thing clear," Master Change began, not wanting people to misunderstand her words. "The newborn was born under the grace of the Seven Sages, and as such, inevitably, he would come to inherit the Sun. This, of course, was not part of our design."

The council members exchanged knowing glances, each one understanding the hidden meaning behind her words. For over a decade, they had worked to claim the Sun. Pawns were carefully positioned, plans meticulously crafted, all centered on the House of Nurturing to ensure the outcome they desired.

"But we’ve hit a snag," Master Change paused, her mind flickering to her earlier attempt—the loss of two Red Rabbit still fresh in her memory. "The saviors spoken of by the spirits seem to be protected by some form of immortality. They cannot be harmed, as if the very universe itself has wrapped them in its embrace. This makes the boy... unkillable, for now. We don’t know the full extent of their immortality, but it appears to be beyond our reach. Therefore, we must proceed with caution."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber as the zodiacs absorbed her words. One by one, they signaled their handlers, confirming the information against their own intelligence networks.

“The attempts on his life will continue. Each failure will yield data. We will refine our methods and make every strike more precise, more lethal. There must be a threshold to their protection, and we will find it. For now, though, all reports across the universe indicate that these saviors are impervious to death. Until then, we watch. We listen. The universe is vast and unpredictable, filled with dangerous forces and reckless fools. And there’s always the chance that someone—some madman—will succeed where we have failed."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the council. They all understood the stakes, the need for patience and perseverance, but the endgame remained the same: the Sun was within their grasp, and they would not rest until it was theirs.