Three wasn’t quite sure how he did it, but he did it. The needle was filled with blood, and after just walking by too. No doubt, a small puncture wound would have formed. But in the middle of the night, he headed out into the forest.

---

On the night of the ball, professor Hadel worked tirelessly. He had no time nor luxury for politics. And even if he did, he still wouldn’t involve himself in those squabbles. Deep beneath the ground, Hadel documented the events that just happened. Surrounded by fragile equipment, he looked very much like a scientist.

Scheduled to return to teaching the child of the duke, he made lesson preparations. That boy was learning fast. But the palace, was it? Hadel would rather not enter that place if he didn’t need to. Though, if it was for that boy, perhaps that would have been different.

---

When the moon made its presence known, Elise looked up at the great night sky. Stars dotted the black backdrop of the heavens. The sword left a deep slice in the target dummy. Her blade was clad with a red layer that extended out from the stone embedded within her sword’s guard. A thought crossed her mind. Worry. As was often the case with older siblings, she couldn’t help but fear for her brother. It was a new environment, surrounded by predators. And tonight was the royal ball, of utmost importance. It was his first ever, public reveal after all. The Hunters Festival was an event exclusive to the nobles. But, now everyone in the palace was aware of his existence. If there was one thing a mixed blood shouldn’t do, that was stand out.

“Stress relief?” Estelle asked as she approached.

“Yeah. What about you? Stuck in the library again?”

“Is that all you think I do?”

“When was the last time you did some training?”

“During your supplementary classes.”

“Fuck. How many hours did that total up to?”

“Too many. First of all, how could you even fail basic maths?”

“And how could you fail your swordsmanship lessons?”

“Fuck off with that. You want to ‘relieve some stress’ with me?”

“Always.”

Elise turned around and faced her sister. A warm gust blew between them, and Estelle brandished her rapier. Long, and sharp. If Elise cleaved, her sister stabbed. And she was amazingly good at it. If some fool made the wrong choice of challenging her, the doctor would end up treating a net of a person.

“So, what are you worried about?” Estelle started.

“Oh you know, the usual.”

Turning her head, Elise looked upwards. In that moment, her sister boosted herself off the ground and leaped towards her. Her rapier thrust itself towards the raven haired sister. The way she moved was magnificent. No useless movements, and everything was smooth and fluid. Metal clashed against metal.

“Don’t try it,” Elise said.

Their fight lasted for several minutes. Sparks flew as the blades, coated with mana, fought for dominance. Of course, Elise was at the advantage. They only stopped once the longsword just barely touched Estelle’s neck.

---

A knock came at his door. Indeed, it was an outdated tradition. Why would gods need doors and messengers? Nonetheless, Bahamut dragged himself towards it. He watched the screen out of the corner of his eye, and opened the door.

“The True Dragon,” the man said.

Dressed in green robes, with a pair of white wings on his back. A black beret sat atop his head, even though his height was nothing when compared to the dragon.

“Messenger god. What d’ya want?”

“Summons from Yhanion.”

“Again? Didn’t we just have one not long ago?”

“That was nearly a decade ago.”

“Which isn’t long.”

“Whatever. But he wants to have a meeting with everyone.”

“Ooo. Everyone? Not just the inner circle?”

“Everyone. Even Calli’s coming.”

“Hah! This seems interesting. What did he want?”

“Mana checkup.”

“Ah, that is indeed a problem. Usual place?”

“What other place? See ya.”

The messenger god took off. Capable at travelling at the speed of light, Amel was probably the fastest among them. But really. What was the point of having wings if he didn’t use them? Amel was already capable of travelling fast even without them. But Bahamut didn’t have that luxury.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

His wings sprouted out from his back. That was the only draconic aspect of him. For a True Dragon, he wasn’t much of one. A human form was the more accepted version of himself for some unknown reason. Either way, it was more aerodynamic.

Upon landing, several others were already there. By flying, carriage, walking, or even swimming through the sky. If there was a will, there was a way. That was how the gods lived and died. But Bahamut wasn’t technically a god. Not quite.

He stepped into the elaborate jade and marble palace. It was far too elegant for a man like Yhanion. Though, the movements that he would like to make were slowed down. As though moving through a viscous honey. Bahamut made his way further in, ignoring the others. There was no place for him amongst them. But all of them seemed to be affected by that field. The entire palace was filled with an invisible, unnoticeable honey. No doubt, it was that old man’s work.

“The True Dragon, welcome.”

Bahamut was greeted the moment he stepped into the main room. Luxurious chairs made of dwarven steel and fabric. Gems stuck out from the seats as decorations. On the long table, spanning an impossibly far distance, various cuisines were laid out. Meats that looked as though they were made of paper, and melting vegetables the colour of magma. It was a surreal experience the first time he witnessed it more than a century ago. Bahamut sat down near the head of the table.

More shuffled in, their actions bogged down. They each took their seat, and the old man at the head of the table stood up. With one hand on his cane, and one cupping a wine glass filled with thick golden liquid, he started speaking.

“Welcome everyone.”

“Before that, can you lift your field? It's getting annoying,” Bahamut interrupted.

“Oop. Forgot about that.”

Like magic, the slowness eased. Such was the power of the god of time. But perhaps time hasn’t been kind to him either. Since the last time they met, he looked at least half a decade older. Meanwhile, Bahamut himself had no visible change, besides an occasional grey hair here and there.

“Truth, would you like to start?”

The old man gestured towards the woman sitting next to him. Right at the head of the table. To be honest, Yhanion was in no shape to rule. Ironically, the god of time has been the one most affected by it. At his peak, his followers were one in three. But now? Barely one in fifty.

At the old man’s words, the young lady stood up. In loose robes, and a blindfold around her eyes, she approached him. Blindness did not affect her. The old man moved aside, and let her take over.

“The situation is getting dire. But, thankfully, the otherworlders have been providing mana. So far, how many have been brought over?” she asked.

“I have one,” Bahamut offered.

“Same here.”

“I’ve pulled one too.”

“Yeap. ‘ere too.”

Various other gods and goddesses chimed in. The god of crafts, the goddess of trade, the god of games, the god of music. Even the pair of god and goddess of love piped up. Yes, perhaps it was only Truth that could garner such responses. Yhanion could never accomplish that, much less in his decrepit state now.

The time for change was approaching. Everyone knew that. And the ones that were most familiar with it were the head god, Yhanion the god of time, and Truth. She was special, to say the least. Much closer in existence to Bahamut than the other gods, she had the privilege to not have a title. Rather, the word ‘truth’ was her. She embodied truth, and thus, people came to equate her to it. Much in the same way, all dragons were equated to be Bahamut’s offspring. She was not the goddess of truth, far from it. And he was not the father of dragons. But people liked truth, not dragons. Not the big, scary lizards that spit out fire.

“Great. Inan, keep an eye out on the mana wastage. If it drops too low again, just bring another otherworlder here. Siphon their unused energy. And those who have summoned one, stay behind. We need to have a discussion. As for the others, you’re dismissed. Have a good day.”

Chairs shuffled as people moved out of the room. Until, there was just less than ten left. Truth, Bahamut, Rei, Murunita, Inan, and the pair of love gods were left.

“Is that all, then?” Truth asked.

“Do you really need to ask that? Can’t you know just from being here?” Bahamut said.

“Well, I guess so. Time to take stock, then. True Dragon Bahamut, yours?”

“Francis Rayleigh. Not much has happened though.”

“Alright. And he’s the mixed blood, yes?”

“Yeap. Who knew that Truth could tell the truth?”

“Stop your joking. Murunita, god of music. You next.”

“She’s Jeanne Hildr. Should be on the way to perform in front of the Friaren court.”

Bahamut looked at that man all over. His pointy ears twitched as that man returned the dragon’s gaze. Tall, and handsome. Bahamut chuckled.

“Alright. Got it. Goddess of trade, Rei?”

“Yeah. Amelia Kriyu. And if my projections are correct, she should be establishing a guild of her own, soon.”

“Brilliant. And last but not least, Mio, goddess of love, Quin, god of love, you two?”

“Well...” Mio started off, “Pekon Stark is,”

“Extremely cute,” her counterpart finished her sentence.

These two. They were an odd pair. Less like lovers, and maybe like conjoined twins? Never to be seen apart from each other, they were always together. And today, it was his turn on her lap.

“Alright, but what about her future?” Truth asked.

“She’s well on her way to becoming one of the most...”

“Elegant dancers! She will be the star of the world!”

“Don’t talk about stars again. I don’t want to have to deal with those pesky ones again.”

Nonetheless, Truth nodded. The other attendants all gave their acknowledgements and she raised her left hand. She seemed to wait for everyone to finish giving their reports before giving hers.

“And I have Sherwin Callisyx. He is just doing his own thing. But, as the pantheon, we cannot have too much favouritism towards our own otherworlders. Alright?” asked Truth.

“And what are the extents to which we can help them?” Bahamut asked.

“Keep it to the minimum. They are just a byproduct of the mana siphoning, but take care of them nonetheless. Generally speaking, if it would disrupt the world by a major scale, like a large natural disaster or unchecked powers, don’t. But small boosts to their body, or some specially crafted artefacts should be fine. Again, run all your proposals through me before deciding anything.”

---

The messenger rode through the night. He swapped out his tired horse, for a fresh new one at a small village stable. It wasn’t much, but those precious hours spent for rest might affect the fate of the empire. His lord was already panicking with the news, but he had to deliver it to the palace. Being just a minor region, they had no quick access to communications. A man on a horse was the fastest news could travel in and out.

He didn’t want to recall the sight. Its thick scales, and its air of unease. Even thinking about it was able to send shudders down his spine. Those ghostly claws. Its absolute size. Gods, how could it even exist like that? It greatly resembled a ghost, and even the mages that accompanied them got spooked. But the mages weren’t even necessary. The messenger himself felt its immense mana pool just from being near it. And they weren’t even that close to it. His party of adventurers kept at a safe observation distance, and alerted the local lord to its presence. Even the men and women of the lord feared it. The messenger shook his head. There was no time to be thinking about that. It was no longer his problem. Those from the palace should be able to take care of it.

Once he arrived, the gatekeeper greeted him. Even though it was night, some rooms within the imperial palace still were lit up. Hopefully one of them had authority. Regardless, the messenger passed the letter to the gatekeeper. It was shut with a wax seal, the local lord’s seal.

“Get this to the emperor. Quickly. It's an emergency,” was all the messenger could manage.

Darkness, unlike the night, creeped in from the corners of his sight. His muscles hurt, and the horse was exhausted. When he jumped off from the saddle, the impact onto his legs were enough to make him wobble. And he collapsed into the arms of the surprised gatekeeper.