Since the uprising that had shaken Eastshire District, every street, fort, and manor now answered to the Lantz family. What had once been a patchwork of petty warlords lay under one banner, its banners snapping bright crimson against the morning haze.
Marvin, head of the Lantz household, treated Flaxseed like visiting royalty. Each dusk, he sent a different courtesan through silken drapes, and Flaxseed, drowning in wine and laughter, seemed in no hurry to ever find his way home.
Luna, however, grew quieter by the hour. Jared had broken through to level eight and vanished beyond the clouds. She did not know whether he was thriving or dying, or if fate would ever let them meet again.
Three weeks later, Jared strode unannounced into the Lantz residence.
Luna’s composure shattered in an instant. She flew down the marble steps and wrapped both arms around him as though terrified the vision might dissolve.
They locked themselves away for three full days, their laughter rising above the courtyard ponds like startled swans. Between embraces, Jared still sat cross-legged at dawn, channeling energy through every vein, making the most of his time.
Soon, Jared summoned Flaxseed. Together, they stepped into a rippling corridor of void light and let the world fold around them. Eastshire fell away. Level six opened ahead like a second sunrise.
Luna was sad to watch Jared leave, but knowing he had important matters to attend to, she made no move to stop him.
Celestia awaited them. Though scars of past wars still marred its borders, its strength was already counted among the mightiest realms of level six.
***
Dust cloaked Jared and Flaxseed by the time they reached Celestia City, the kingdom’s storied capital.
Marble spires gleamed where scaffolds had only recently stood. Market stalls crowded the avenues wall to wall, and the thunder of hammers on bronze rang beside the soft call of temple bells. Even half rebuilt, the city pulsed like a living heart.
At the northern gate, a hulking captain blocked their path. Folds of muscle strained his iron breastplate, and a crooked grin split the mass of scars across his cheeks. Beady eyes flicked over their travel-worn cloaks and judged them easy prey.
“Hold it! Road toll!” he barked, planting both fists on his hips so his voice boomed across the stone arch.
Jared’s brow creased. He had crossed deserts and star-fields to stand at this gate, never expecting to be shaken down like a back-alley peddler.
“Since when does the Divine Kingdom charge travelers to enter its own capital?” His words came softly, yet filled with authority.
The captain spat in the dust. “Since I said so! Pay up or turn around. I have no time for your questions!”
Flaxseed’s temper flared. He strode forward until his finger all but touched the captain’s nose. “Who do you think you’re bullying? One slap and you’ll be fertilizer under this wall. Want to test me?!”
The captain’s face darkened. “Guards! Bind these loudmouths!”
His gauntlet swept through the air like a judge’s gavel.
Steel boots pounded from every direction, forming a ring of spears around the two travelers.
Jared sighed, shaking his head with a weary half-smile. He had hoped for a quiet entrance, yet ignorance, it seemed, had an uncanny talent for finding him.
With a casual flick of Jared’s wrist, raw spiritual energy thundered across the gateway.
The soldiers never even screamed, shields rang like cracked bells, bodies pinwheeled through dust, and a heartbeat later the entire squad lay sprawled, groaning in disarray.
The commanding officer, broad-shouldered, iron-helmed, felt the blood drain from his face.
Moments earlier, he had dismissed the pair as wandering vagabonds, now he understood he had poked at mountains that could move.
“H-How dare you create havoc before the gates of Celestia City!” he bellowed, voice cracking with forced bravado. “Seize them! Drag them to the palace. His Majesty himself will decide their punishment!”
Ropes were tossed over Jared’s and Flaxseed’s wrists, and a ring of spears herded them toward the palace like livestock toward market.
Flaxseed grumbled the entire march, about bruised joints, incompetent soldiers, and the price of ruined robes, while Jared walked serene, almost amused.
Let’s see what game King Aurelius means to play once we step inside…
As the procession crossed the marble drawbridge of the palace, a slim figure in violet silk stepped from a colonnade, Yuliana’s sharp eyes catching the ropes before the guards even announced their prisoners.
Now Prime Minister of the realm, Yuliana wore a sweeping orchid gown whose jeweled hairpin caught the afternoon sun like a shard of lightning. Grace clung to her the way fragrance clings to fresh lilac.
Seeing Jared and Flaxseed bound, she froze, a single stunned heartbeat, then rage blazed behind her lashes, hot enough to melt the palace snow that still lingered in shaded courtyards.
“Lady Fiala,” the general muttered, bobbing in an awkward bow, “These two scoundrels forced the city gate and injured my men! I, uhm, took the liberty of binding them and bringing them here for your judgment.”
A sheet of shadow rolled across Yuliana’s face. The courtyard temperature seemed to plummet.
She strode forward and struck—one palm, then the other—each slap echoing like a hammer on bronze. The officer reeled, eyes spinning, palms pressed to burning cheeks.
“You reckless fool! Do you even know whom you dared to shackle? He is Mr. Jared Chance, savior of this kingdom. Touch him again and I will see you stripped of rank, and perhaps of life!”
Color left the officer’s face. Knees buckled, armor clanged, and he collapsed, a dark stain spreading across his trousers as terror overruled dignity.
“M-Mr. Chance, Lady Fiala, forgive me, I was blind, utterly blind. Please, spare this worthless life!”
Jared’s name had long risen through level seven like sunrise, whispered in taverns, etched into military briefings. Aurelius himself had ordered every soldier to remember that name, for without Jared, Celestia might already lie in ruins.
Watching how miserable the man was, Jared felt a ripple of pity. He lifted a hand. “Enough… Ignorance is fault enough, I will not add blood to it. Stand up, then remember humility, or next time mercy may be harder to find.”
The officer fled, blessedly alive.
Yuliana turned back to Jared, violet eyes sparkling with unhidden delight, the fury already gone like breath on glass. “Jared, you’re finally here! I have waited, counted dawns, hoping you would walk through those gates!”
“Yuliana, I came to ask a favor. I need everything you know about the current clan leader of the celestials,” Jared said with a smile.
“Not in the open, walls have ears. Come inside!” She twined her fingers through his and guided him across polished tiles toward her room.
Flaxseed, catching the mood, whistled softly and stationed himself outside the door like a lazy sentry.
Once inside, Yuliana pushed the cedar panels shut, the click of the latch sealing them from the murmuring palace corridors.
She faced Jared in the lamplight, desire and purpose mingling in the blaze of her gaze, as though he were both lost friend and long-awaited answer to a thousand unspoken prayers.
The moment Jared shut the courtyard gate behind him, Yuliana burst forward like spring released from the snow. In a single breath, she crossed the tiled walk and threw herself against his chest, her perfume flooding the cool twilight air.
“Jared, I missed you, missed you more than words could ever repay,” she breathed, the soft complaint tangled with a teasing lilt that made the words feel like silk brushing skin.
Her sudden warmth stunned him. For half a heartbeat, he simply stood there, arms hovering uselessly, until instinct eclipsed surprise.
“Yuliana, I’ve missed you, too.” He curved his arms around her waist, then added in a lower, steadier voice, “But there’s urgent business, something about the Celestial chieftain…”
“Not tonight. Tonight you are mine. No plots, no wars, just stay.” Her eyes, bright as amethyst, rose to his.
Before the last syllable cooled, she tipped up on her toes and pressed a fierce, silencing kiss to his mouth.
For a flicker of time, Jared resisted, duty flaring like a warning drum. Then the heat of her lips swept the argument from his mind the way wind scatters embers, and he answered with equal hunger.
Their bodies locked together, they moved across the lamplit chamber.
Yuliana’s fingers found his, guiding him toward the wide cedar bed where moonlight pooled in silver squares. What followed was not merely passion but the quiet, ancient art of sharing strength, two souls weaving power the way dawn braids light.
During that silent communion, Jared felt a river of raw spiritual energy surge between their hearts, cycling, refining, leaving his limbs thrumming with new life.
The current soothed his weary flesh, polished each meridian, and nudged his cultivation a shade higher, as though one more rung had been notched into an endless ladder.
Yuliana glowed as well, cheeks flushed rose, eyes crystalline and sharp, like a blossom that had drunk the first pure rain of spring.
Afterward, they lay tangled beneath linen sheets, the room scented with sandalwood and quiet triumph.
“Jared…” she murmured, head pillowed on his shoulder, “Digging into that clan leader, has something gone wrong out there?”
He nodded, gaze drifting across the rafters as he told her everything, every danger on level eight, Maxwell’s sacrifice, and the fact that he wished to find the clan leader and settle the score with him.
Worry tightened Yuliana’s brow, the earlier glow shaded now by storm-gray concern.
“That clan leader is little more than legend to people like us,” she said. “I can escort you to King Aurelius, but even he lives far below such secrets, and none of us even knows who he is.”
At dawn, Yuliana guided Jared through marble corridors to the heart of the royal palace. There, beneath a vault of carved jasper, Aurelius sat on a throne both lavish and austere, signing scrolls with quick, decisive strokes.
The instant the king spotted Jared, delight flashed across his face. He rose, robes whispering, and strode down the dais.
“Mr. Chance! What fortune brings you back to my humble realm?” He clasped Jared’s hands with honest warmth that softened the chill of polished stone.
Jared had been gone since he breached level six, Aurelius had half-feared he would never look back. After all, who wouldn’t enjoy staying in higher planes?
Jared returned the bow of courtesy. “Your Majesty, I come seeking answers, one question only you might illuminate.”
The king ushered him to an ebony chair, ordered his subordinates to serve coffee, then leaned forward, eyes intent. “Speak freely. I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Jared recounted the ambush that happened on level eight, about Maxwell, and his desire to know more about the celestial clan leader.
Aurelius listened in silence, knuckles whitening around his cup, sympathy warring with helplessness.
“Mr. Chance, I will not deceive you. Even a king sits several walls away from that throne. Our hierarchy is rigid, chambers close before one can glimpse their hinges. I have never laid eyes on the Chieftain, nor heard a description unmarred by rumor.”
He exhaled, a rueful, resigned breath. “Stories grant the figure a dozen shapes and powers, but proof, proof is mist. I wish I could give you more.”
Jared felt a faint sting of disappointment, though he also understood that the outcome lay far beyond Aurelius’ reach.
He lowered his head in quiet acceptance. “It’s all right, Your Majesty. There’s no need to blame yourself. Since things stand as they are, I’d better not linger any longer.”
Aurelius stepped forward, urgency flickering in his eyes. “Mr. Chance, would you not remain in Celestia for a few more days? Allow me, at least, to act the host you deserve.”
Jared answered with a gentle smile that brooked no argument. “Your kindness is noted. Unfortunately, I still have pressing matters, I truly must be on my way.”
Realizing persuasion would only deepen awkwardness, Aurelius ordered his attendants to prepare several rare treasures, each packed with silent gratitude, and entrusted them to Jared before letting him depart.
Outside the soaring palace gates, Yuliana walked beside Jared. Tears shimmered in her lavender eyes, her expression as desolate as autumn rain.
Moments ago, she had finally seen the man she had missed for ages, now, he spoke of leaving again, and the ache in her chest spilled over unchecked.
Jared’s resolve faltered at the sight. He could not bring himself to break her heart so soon, so he decided to remain on level six a few more days. Those added days became a hushed whirlwind of tangled sheets, whispered laughter, and breathless embraces.
Yuliana seemed determined to taste every moment, quite literally, asking Jared, again and again, to worship her with lips and tongue until dawn slipped through the curtains.
Jared often chuckled in embarrassed surrender. In those stolen hours, he sensed how completely she had fallen for him.
Even amid pleasure, Jared’s mind returned to heavier burdens, locating the celestial clan leader, freeing Maxwell from captivity, and sharpening his own power before the Malevolent Path Hall descended upon the realms.
And so, after a final lingering farewell, he and Flaxseed stepped into a shimmering void passage and vanished toward level five.
***
Swordmaster City loomed ahead, sprawling battlements of dark steel and soaring ramparts crowned with banners that snapped like blades against the sky.
Its influence now stretched across the entire level five, every street pulsing with the hum of sword aura.
Jared and Flaxseed passed through the gate and discovered that the metropolis had more than doubled in size, alleys they once knew were now lost beneath gleaming new districts.
The moment they entered, Flaxseed offered Jared a roguish grin, muttered something about “important personal research”, and bolted toward the nearest entertainment quarter.
Jared could hardly blame him, after watching his friend survive his own procession of ardent companions on levels six and seven, Flaxseed’s restraint was at its limit. He let the elder wander.
On level five, Flaxseed’s cultivation was peerless, and danger was unlikely. Besides, so long as Ararat, the indomitable city lord, ruled these walls, no harm would dare approach Jared’s friend.
Jared drew a calming breath, soft words slipping from between his lips. “Lyra, I’m here…”
It had been far too long since he last saw Lyra, and worry gnawed behind his steady composure.
While making his way toward the Sword Sect compound, he spotted a column of young cultivators in matching sable uniforms. Each man carried a finely forged blade, their footsteps timed to a martial heartbeat. Curiosity sharpened within him.
When had the Sword Sect amassed so many disciples, and with enough audacity to march so ostentatiously through Swordmaster City?
Jared angled toward them for answers, but a sudden tug on his sleeve halted his stride. A stranger in a sea-green tunic, a sword resting across his back, pulled Jared aside and asked in a hushed voice, “Sir, what exactly are you planning to do?”
