Like all those who had progressed through to the tournament’s second round, Rieren had been summoned to a gathering. In the town on stilts in the middle of swampy water, where by all accounts they should have been choking on bog stink. Rieren had joined the rest of her fellow surviving competitors to await their ceremonial acceptance into the next stage of the tournament.
Not at the exact same location, of course. She was a monster now. Abyssals, Aetherian, and Arisen didn’t mix with the humans.
“Don’t think for a moment I don’t know what truly happened,” the monster closest to Rieren said.
It was a type of Abyssal she had yet to meet in this timeline. Darkstalkers were rare, powerful monsters that tended to remain within the Abyss, despite the realm’s constant push against all monsters within it.
That one had come out to join the Trials of Ascendance just went to prove that the monsters truly were serious about winning the tournament.
Rieren turned to the Abyssal, noting its overlarge skeletal frame covered with muscles that looked like they were made of steel but writhed with many, dark colours. Its head had an exoskeleton of stark white bone in the shape of a deer’s skull that trapped the flesh and other bits within. Its eyes were the worst, though. Nothing but pits of fire the colour of nightmares.
“At a moment like this,” Rieren said. “I suppose I would ideally be asking what truly happened according to your reckoning, Darkstalker.”
She turned her head back forward to watch the ongoing ceremony. One of the imperial courtiers had puffed himself up and was delivering a speech about bravery, entertainment, the glorious future of the Elderlands, and such other nonsense.
“And?” the monster inquired. “You didn’t finish your sentence. I know enough of your language and vernacular that people generally follow up that statement with another.”
Rieren shrugged. “I suppose I would ideally have not left you hanging on my every word.”
“Do you treat all conversation like a mere game?”
When Rieren didn’t bother answering, another monster piped up. It was one of the Higher Aetherians, the only one who had successfully gotten past the first round.
“Leave that upstart be, Darkstalker,” it said. Interesting. Unlike other Abyssals, who were always called nothing more than Abyssals, this Darkstalker was called by the name of its own sub-kind. Was this a form of respect? “I for one am simply waiting for when I can survey this special area they prepared for us monsters.”
Ah, that was right. The tournament officials couldn’t allow monsters to live in the same place that the human competitors would be staying, so they had hastily prepared a separate set of accommodations for Rieren and the rest of her monstrous cohort.
She didn’t have a ton of faith in those new quarters, of course. But it didn’t matter. Rieren was also certain that her new body was going to care even less about foibles like living quarters.
The last words of the courtier cut through Rieren’s inattentiveness.
“…words of the Forborne Emperor himself.”
He quickly retreated, his rich, oversized robes flapping in his wake. Some muttered conversation had popped up here and there while the courtier’s speech had dragged on, much like Rieren’s own with her companions. But now, everyone had gone hush. Even the wind had stopped blowing, as though the world itself held its breath at the Emperor’s impending arrival.
Rieren should have felt something more than just vague, analytical curiosity. This was the Emperor for crying out loud. This was the man who had a great hand in letting things get to this situation, who had allowed the Elderlands to come to grievous harm once again, who had to answer to a great deal.
Who was supposed to have been someone Rieren could trust, whose intentions she should have been able to rely on.
But all she could muster was a minor eagerness borne more from a need to survey an antagonist than assuage any feelings she might have once held. She needed to see him in the same way she needed to observe her potential opponents in the tournament’s imminent second round. Nothing more.
A sense of immeasurable power thrummed in the air as the Emperor stepped up to the podium that his follower had vacated. The aura of might was strong, no doubt. Rieren still frowned, though. Powerful though it was, there wasn’t a sense of overwhelmingness about it as she had felt in his presence before.
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In the Emperor’s vicinity, one was never given a moment’s doubt of who the strongest being in the Shatterlands was supposed to be.
It was vastly reduced here. A part of her wondered if he was suppressing it for whatever reason. If so, then that part was curious as to why. Something wasn’t right here, and though it didn’t truly bother Rieren as it might have before, it didn’t leave her mind.
At least he was dressed like an Emperor ought to be. The robe was rich, made of pure black satin with golden embroidery showing the signature tree of his clan. His gold-and-silver headdress resembled a bird taking flight.
But it was the veil over his face that drew Rieren’s attention. It was customary. Traditional. The Emperor couldn’t run around showing his esteemed visage to just about anybody in public. No one would stand for such a breach of honour. One had to be of great worth to enjoy the Emperor’s presence. To hear him speak, one needed to perform a great deed.
To be able to see him, one needed to possess generational greatness.
Nevertheless, the outline of his expression and the general impression of features were still visible to those close enough. Rieren was just within the distance she could attain a sense of familiarity about the face behind the veil.
A sense that was completely wrong.
The impression of features… were not of the Emperor she had known in the previous timeline, yet they were vaguely familiar somehow.
Before, her heart might have quailed a little at the surprise of it all. Her mind might have raced, wondering at the possibilities that could have led to this. Her emotions would be in turmoil at the realization that the one she’d had faith in might not be responsible for the current deplorable state of the Elderlands.
Now, she simply felt nothing. Just a curiosity to take a peek beneath the veil and judge who it was that still looked familiar despite not being the real Zhian. Something for her to judge a potential enemy.
“Champions,” the Forborne Emperor said. His voice made them all tense. There was something off about it too. Familiar, but not recognizable as Zhian’s. “Welcome to the doorstep of greatness. You have persevered through many a struggle, expended a great deal of your wits and power, and have claimed a stake in the future of the Elderlands. You should be proud.”
They all hung on his words. How could they not? He was the Forborne Emperor, after all. Rieren herself focused on the veil, on its light motions after his words. Just a little more…
“You have carried yourselves through the Trials of Ascendance in a manner that raises the entire Elderlands’ esteem,” the Emperor continued. “And I believe that you will continue to excel in the coming round as well. But it is not yet done. Spare no effort, leave no stone unturned in your soul, pull out every iota of strength and power you have hidden within yourself.
“Remember—what you have before is a chance to change the course of history itself. An opportunity to sit at my side and affect the empire itself with your power and knowledge. To immortalize yourself not just in the path that we all take as cultivators, but in the annals of the Elderlands itself.”
His words were rousing, and there was a sense of excitement and trepidation sweeping through the area. Even Rieren felt, if briefly.
But before it could root itself properly in their conscience, someone raised a hand high.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” a young woman dressed in flower-patterned robes said. The paper-user. Rieren had always known that she would need to be wary of her. “If it isn’t one of us who wins, if it turns out that one of the monsters ends up as the winner, then will they be the one to take a seat at the imperial court itself?”
The questions crashed in like a landslide upon the village of morale that the Emperor had been attempting to construct.
Several of those farther behind Zhian reacted angrily. His courtiers, one Avatar, and several of his cultivator retainers, all adopting postures and expressions of great disapproval and outrage. This was supposed to be their illustrious Emperor’s speech, not a session for any old inquiry they might have. But Zhian had raised a hand to prevent them from acting.
Before he could respond, however, the Darkstalker stepped up first. “What use do we have for controlling your measly human court? We wish for lands that we can call our own. We want a home that will not be attacked or destroyed by you humans. Your politics concerns us not a whit.”
“Destroy your home?” Galorian yelled. He didn’t leave it at that, of course. Had to add an accusing finger pointing at the Darkstalker as well. “Your kind tramples on our homes and pillages everyone and everything they can find.”
“That is neither here nor there. We will claim victory, and according to the conditions we have set, we will be guaranteed a locale that we can call our own. You can keep your court.”
That should have allayed the fears that monsters might infiltrate all the way to the imperial court in Vanharron, influencing the seat of greatest power in the Elderlands. Instead, the paper-user whirled around to face the Emperor again.
“So if a monster wins, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said. “Does that mean none of us here gets a seat at the imperial court? Forgive my brashness, but you can see how it appears that it might be a resort for the current courtiers to save their positions.”
“No,” the Emperor answered. “The human judged as the best competitor of the Trials of Ascendance will still claim a seat at the Imperial Court.”
“How can we be certain that such a thing will be granted to us?”
The audacity of her questioning made all but Emperor even angrier. But once more, he forestalled any other reactions with a wave of his hand. That was one of the reasons Rieren had liked him. He wasn’t as much of a stickler for propriety as someone in his position might have been.
“The reason you can be certain is…” The Emperor raised his hand higher and took a hold of his headdress. Rieren wasn’t the only one who had frozen. Zhian took off his imperial insignia, veil included. “Because there is a seat that remains empty in the imperial court.”
Rieren stared. That—that wasn’t Zhian. Not at all.
The face behind the Forborne Emperor’s veil was that of the Kalvia’s retainer. That was the bearded man whom Rieren had learned was the Emperor’s brother.
In place of Zhian, the Forborne Emperor was Astern.