A secret conversation after three hundred years

The banquet ended in an atmosphere of eerie strangeness, yet no chaos erupted on the surface. Representatives of various nations and major factions departed from the Imperial Palace one after another. However, as the delegates of the Celestial Empire, Savoie and I were asked to stay by the palace's security officer.

The dazzling lights that once filled the palace gradually dimmed, and shadows crept in to envelop the grand hall. Behind us, the heavy palace doors shut with a deep, resonant thud.

At that moment, the high-ranking official who had been seated beside the two emperors snapped his fingers. Instantly, the grand and lavish hall underwent a drastic transformation. The warm glow of the chandeliers, the exquisite tapestries, the gleaming gold and silver ornaments, and the luxurious wine—all vanished in the blink of an eye. In their place, an oppressive darkness took hold, illuminated only by a cold and eerie blue light. The palace walls, once opulent, now bore the ominous marks of an ancient curse, inscribed with sinister patterns. At the center of the hall, where three dragon thrones once stood alone, eight additional chairs—constructed entirely from skeletal remains—had materialized out of thin air.

Arranged in a circular formation, these bone chairs sat noticeably lower than the three dragon thrones, indicating some form of hierarchical significance. The temperature in the hall plummeted, and a faint scent of decay lingered in the air.

Only then did I realize—the emperor of Changlong, who had previously presided over the banquet, had vanished without a trace. In his place, seated upon the central dragon throne, was a figure I had never seen before.

The man was plump, with delicate makeup adorning his face. He wore an ornate robe draped elegantly over his broad frame, and atop his head rested a high ceremonial crown. In one hand, he held an exquisitely crafted silver cane. His posture was dignified and poised, yet there was an unmistakable hint of feminine grace in his demeanor, as if he effortlessly transcended the boundaries of gender. Slowly, he lifted his gaze—his cold, serene eyes carrying a hint of a refined smile.

"Please, have a seat, esteemed representatives of the Celestial Empire," he spoke in a soft, ethereal voice.

"Our two nations share the same roots. There is no need for such formality."

His voice carried an inexplicable charm, a subtle yet irresistible pull that evoked a subconscious urge to comply. Yet, the ominous transformation of the palace and the oppressive atmosphere filled me with unease. I exchanged glances with Savoie, whose eyes revealed a trace of apprehension. Still, she gently pressed my arm, signaling me to sit without resistance.

Together, we approached the skeletal chairs. The moment I sat down, a piercing cold surged through the seat, as if attempting to invade my very bones. However, my ability rendered the sensation null, leaving me unaffected.

Moments later, the Celestial Empire's emperor, Gabriel Silva, finally spoke. Seated to the right of the three dragon thrones, he exuded an air of imperial authority and unwavering composure. His deep, commanding voice echoed through the hall:

"As you are well aware, the Celestial Empire has recently suffered a devastating invasion by the organization known as the 'Transcendents.' The damage they inflicted upon our nation has been severe. Fortunately, Changlong has extended a generous olive branch, offering their assistance. This meeting has been arranged to discuss the terms of our negotiations."

Though his words were calm, a sense of impending crisis lurked beneath their surface. As he spoke, a shadowy figure gracefully rose from the central dragon throne and strode toward the leftmost skeletal chair. With effortless elegance, he settled into his seat, as if this eerie gathering was nothing out of the ordinary for him.

At that moment, a sharp yet indifferent voice broke the silence:

"The Transcendents? You mean that ruthless horde of lawless marauders who kill and plunder without restraint?"

The voice belonged to a man who stepped forth from the shadows. He was clad in a flowing, light-blue robe, with a bronze sword hanging from his waist. His long hair cascaded like a waterfall, and his eyes gleamed with an unsettling wickedness—far beyond that of an ordinary man.

Compared to the palace guardian, "Eaglebone," who had exuded a sharp and calculating presence, this new figure radiated an entirely different kind of menace. His aura was venomous, his gaze serpent-like, as if poised to strike with lethal precision at any given moment.

"Hah! Calling it mere killing and looting is an understatement. Those wretched dogs are nothing but embodiments of evil, reveling in their vile deeds."

From the depths of the hall, five more high-ranking officials emerged, each clad in dark robes as they took their places upon the skeletal thrones. Their presence was chillingly unnatural—some bore eyes that glowed with an eerie blue light, while others had eyes as dark as the abyss, harboring an unfathomable void. But the most disturbing sight of all was the energy seeping from certain individuals' eye sockets—a flowing, luminescent blue radiance, as if their very souls had been eroded by some incomprehensible force.

The tension in the chamber thickened. The figures seated upon the skeletal thrones radiated an overwhelming pressure, their gazes and movements alien—foreboding harbingers of an ominous presence.

"Now then..."

The plump official curved his lips into a delicate smile, his voice soft and melodic as he continued:

"Let us begin—our first secret conference in three hundred years."

A heavy silence fell over the hall. Then, from the depths of the chamber, a low, resonant voice emerged, piercing through the blue glow and the suffocating darkness. As the voice echoed, the very space at the center of the hall began to distort—a massive, swirling vortex of blue light slowly materialized, as if the fabric of time and space itself was being torn asunder.

"Welcome…"

From within the vortex, the palace guardian who had briefly vanished—Eaglebone—now reappeared, draped in a billowing black cloak, his very presence exuding the aura of death's embrace.

Savoie and I exchanged a glance before I instinctively tightened my grip on her hand.

As countless eyes locked upon one another, the long-awaited conference was about to begin.