Sei
Dragon Spire Ascension: The Emperor Who Summoned Legends
Prologue: When Skies Bleed Light
The world no longer needs kings. It bows to one alone.
Three hundred and thirty-three candles illuminated the Skyburning Chamber, each flame unnaturally still despite the howling winds that lashed against the tower's crystalline walls. At the center of an intricate array of celestial symbols etched in materials not of this world stood Emperor Longxian the Boundless, motionless as the eye of a storm. His imperial robes—black as the void between stars, embroidered with crimson-gold dragons that seemed to writhe with each subtle shift of light—remained unnaturally undisturbed as if time itself dared not touch him.
He was an imposing figure—standing at six-foot-five with broad shoulders and a warrior's build that his royal garments could not entirely conceal. His obsidian-black hair, streaked with crimson at the tips, was tied in a high warrior's tail secured with a golden dragon clasp that had once belonged to a god-king he had slain. But it was his eyes that truly marked him as something beyond ordinary mortals—smoldering gold with crimson irises that burned with five thousand years of conquest and unyielding will.
"Your Divine Radiance," Grand Chancellor Wei Xuanping trembled as he prostrated himself at the chamber's entrance, his forehead pressed against the cold jade floor. The elderly official's voice quavered despite decades of court experience. "The celestial fractures have widened again. Our western legions report titans of light descending upon the Vermilion Plains. General Lin requests immediate reinforcements and... and your presence, if it pleases Your Boundlessness."
"Rise," Longxian commanded without turning. His voice was deep yet smooth, like jade sliding over silk. "The Divine Thunder Legion has its orders. They will hold."
"But Your Radiance," Wei persisted, rising shakily to his knees but no further—protocol forbade standing in the Emperor's presence unless explicitly commanded. "The casualties already number in the thousands. The void-beasts have changed their pattern. They've never attacked this region before. Our defensive formations weren't prepared for—"
"They are testing us," Longxian interrupted, finally turning to face his chancellor. The movement was deliberate, unhurried, yet somehow seemed to compress space itself. "This is their eighth incursion this month. Each time, they probe a different segment of our defenses, seeking patterns, weaknesses. Let them believe they've found one."
Wei swallowed hard, his eyes downcast. "The Immortal Clans are... concerned, Your Radiance. The Phoenix Empress herself has sent a messenger requesting an audience regarding these attacks."
A flicker of something dangerous passed across Longxian's face. "The Phoenix Empress would do well to remember her place. I did not spare her clan five millennia ago so she could question my strategies now."
"Of course, Your Divine Radiance," Wei quickly agreed, sweat beading on his brow. "I merely thought—"
"You thought to advise me on matters of war," Longxian stated, not as accusation but as simple fact. "Your loyalty is noted, Chancellor. Your wisdom in other matters, valuable. But in this..." His voice softened unexpectedly. "In this, trust that I have seen more battlefields than there are stars in the night sky."
Wei bowed his head deeper, genuinely chastened. "Forgiveness, Your Radiance."
Longxian studied his loyal servant for a moment. Wei had served him for over seven centuries—a mere blink to the Emperor but most of Wei's extended lifespan. "You are forgiven. Now leave me. Tell the court I will not be attending the morning assembly. And Wei..."
"Yes, Divine One?"
"Double the reinforcement garrison at the Southern Palace. Move the imperial treasury artifacts to the deeper vaults."
Wei's eyes widened slightly at the implications. "You believe they will breach our defenses elsewhere while we focus on the western front?"
"I believe in preparation," Longxian replied evenly. "Go."
As the chancellor's footsteps faded down the spiraling staircase, Longxian returned his attention to the array before him. Five thousand years of unification under his rule. Five thousand years of bringing immortal clans, divine sects, and ancient dynasties to heel—some through war, others through cunning, all eventually through inevitability. The world was his.
And yet it was not enough.
The sky bled light again, as it had been doing with increasing frequency for centuries. The void between stars wept intruders—crystalline beasts, titans wrapped in cosmic energy, soldiers whose very breath distorted space. His armies repelled them each time, but at greater and greater cost. And repulsion was not victory.
"The heavens watched me conquer one world," Longxian murmured to the empty chamber, his words carrying the weight of an oath. "I will now raise a sword toward theirs."
From within his sleeve, he withdrew an ancient scroll—its parchment seemingly made from material not of this world, glowing faintly with characters that hurt the eyes to look upon directly. The Scroll of Distant Souls, retrieved from the ruins of a civilization that had disappeared when humanity was young. Translated over decades by scholars who went mad in the process, their minds unable to contain the concepts within.
He unrolled it across the central dais, revealing characters that shifted and changed as if alive, sometimes appearing as ancient Chinese, sometimes as something else entirely.
"Emperor?" A soft feminine voice called from the entrance.
"Enter, Imperial Consort Mei," he responded without looking up.
Mei Lihua, his first and most trusted consort, glided into the room with ethereal grace. Unlike the chancellor, she showed no fear—only quiet concern in her gentle eyes. Five thousand years at Longxian's side had forged her into something beyond ordinary immortals, though she lacked his conquest-driven might. Where he was fire and thunder, she was water and wind—flowing, adaptive, and in her own way, equally unyielding.
"The preparations are complete," she said, her voice melodious yet precise. "The astronomical alignment reaches its apex in twenty-three minutes. But the court astrologers warn that this particular convergence is unpredictable. The summoning may not work as intended."
"The summoning will succeed," Longxian stated with absolute certainty. It was not hope or belief—it was a decree upon reality itself. "I have modified the ritual. The conventional wisdom is to summon and bind lesser spirits to serve. But what I seek are not servants."
"Then what?" Mei asked, her voice barely a whisper. She alone among his court could ask such direct questions.
Longxian's lips curved into the slightest smile. "Equals. Warriors worthy of fighting at my side. Heroes from across worlds and times who understand what it means to stand against impossible odds."
"And if they refuse to aid you?"
"They won't," he said simply. "Not because I will force them—but because they will recognize what I am. What we face." He extended his hand. "The final component, if you please."
With reverent movements, Mei produced a small jade box from within her flowing blue robes. When opened, it revealed a single drop of golden liquid suspended in the air—Longxian's blood, refined through five millennia of cultivation until it had become something closer to liquid starlight than mortal essence.
Longxian took the box and placed it at the center of the array. "Leave now. Tell the Imperial Guard that none are to enter, regardless of what they hear or see."
"I should stay with you," Mei protested gently, her hand coming to rest lightly on his arm—a familiarity no other would dare.
"No," Longxian's voice softened fractionally. "This ritual will tear a hole between realms. If it fails, the backlash will destroy everyone in this chamber."
"All the more reason I should remain," she insisted, her eyes—ageless and wise—meeting his directly. "Five thousand years at your side, and you still underestimate my resolve?"
Longxian met her gaze, and for a moment, his imperial mask slipped to reveal genuine affection. "Never your resolve. Only my concern for your safety." He placed his hand over hers briefly. "The empire needs someone to lead should I fall."
"The empire needs its Emperor," she countered. "Let me strengthen the boundary arrays from outside. I've prepared additional stabilization formations."
After a moment's consideration, Longxian nodded. "As always, your wisdom complements my will. Go then, set your formations. But remain beyond the outer courtyard."
With visible reluctance but understanding the compromise for what it was, Mei bowed and departed.
Alone again, Longxian knelt before the scroll and began the incantation. Ancient words flowed from his lips—syllables that had not been uttered in millennia, that were never meant for human tongues. The air grew heavy, charged with potential. The candles flared blue, then violet, then a color that had no name in any mortal language.
The drop of golden blood rose from its container, hovering at eye level. Longxian drew his weapon—the Heaven-Cleaving Spear of Nine Calamities, now compressed into the form of a simple black sword. The blade had conquered continents, slain gods, and parted seas. With a precise movement, he pierced the droplet.
The world shattered.
Reality cracked like glass, fracture lines spreading across the chamber. Through these cracks poured not darkness but light so brilliant it should have blinded him. Longxian remained unblinking, unflinching, as the ritual reached its apex.
"I call not as master but as equal," he declared into the maelstrom, his voice somehow cutting through the cosmic cacophony. "I summon not as binder but as ally. Through sovereign will and sovereign flame, I open the path for heroes of distant stars!"
The fractures in reality widened. Silhouettes appeared within the light—eleven distinct shapes slowly taking form. Some tall and imposing, others slight but radiating power. Some human in appearance, others clearly not.
As the first figure stepped forward, Longxian rose to his feet, sword still drawn but lowered in respect rather than threat.
"I am Emperor Longxian the Boundless, Sovereign of the Dragon Spire Empire," he stated, his voice carrying the authority of five thousand years of rule. "I have called you across the void not to serve, but to fight alongside me against a threat that spans worlds."
The light began to fade, revealing the eleven beings now standing before him—legends made flesh, heroes of myth and history drawn from across time and dimension. Each regarded him with expressions ranging from curiosity to suspicion to outright hostility.
"Welcome," Longxian said, sheathing his blade in a gesture of trust, "to a world that has never needed salvation more than now."
Chapter 1: First Impressions
The first to step forward was a woman of small stature but incomparable presence. Her golden hair was finely textured, appearing as if sprinkled with gold dust, styled in a practical bun with a blue ribbon. She wore silver and blue armor over a blue dress with white accents, the ensemble radiating elegance and strength in equal measure. Her vivid green eyes assessed Longxian with clear calculation, neither impressed nor intimidated.
"I am Artoria Pendragon," she declared, her voice clear and commanding. "Once and Future King of Britain, bearer of Excalibur. By what right do you tear us from our proper place and time, Emperor of a realm unknown to us?"
Before Longxian could answer, another woman strode forward—tall, bronze-skinned, with long silver-lilac hair cascading past her waist in soft waves. A golden imperial diadem crowned her head like sun-spiked rays. Her azure eyes blazed with both royal intensity and barely restrained fury.
"Zenobia of Palmyra," she announced, her tone that of one accustomed to being obeyed. "Queen and Warrior who defied the Roman Empire. I demand to know by what sorcery you have brought us here."
"Sorcery?" A playful feminine voice called from among the group. A stunning woman with long, white, flower-like hair and mischievous lavender eyes stepped forward. "Oh, this was far beyond mere sorcery. This was... interesting." She twirled a silver staff idly between her fingers, leaving trails of dream-like light. "Proto Merlin, at your service. Well, not actually at your service. That remains to be determined, doesn't it?"
Tension rippled through the chamber as the others assessed their situation. A woman with long silver-blue hair and sharp golden eyes observed silently, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Beside her, another silver-haired woman with crimson eyes and small black horns protruding from her forehead watched the proceedings with careful restraint.
A tall, muscular blonde woman with prominent black horns and heterochromatic eyes—one lime green, one blood red—growled low in her throat, the sound distinctly inhuman. "Barghest," she said simply, her voice deep and rumbling. "Explain yourself, mortal, or I'll tear your palace down around us."
"You will not." This came from a slender woman with straw-blonde hair in a long braid and amethyst eyes that somehow projected both serenity and steel. She carried a large battle standard rather than a conventional weapon. "I am Jeanne d'Arc. And while I share my companions' concerns, I sense no evil intent in this summoning. Unusual as it may be."
"Intent matters less than action," countered an imposing woman with ancient eyes and a deadly grace to her movements. "I am Scáthach, Queen of the Land of Shadows, trainer of heroes. And this..." she gestured around them, "is a violation of natural law."
"When have natural laws ever applied to those like us?" This came from a woman with long red hair and a commanding presence, dressed in elaborate dark attire. Her smile was sharp as a blade. "Demon King Nobunaga. I'm more interested in what kind of empire manages to pull off a summoning of this magnitude. Impressive work, Emperor." Her casual use of his title without honorifics was deliberately provocative.
A cheerful voice cut through the rising tension. "Everyone's so serious! I'm Xuanzang Sanzang!" This came from a beautiful woman with long brown hair and a blue frontlet on her forehead, dressed in white robes with a yellow cape-like garment. "I'm curious what kind of journey awaits us here!"
The final two figures had yet to speak. One was a woman with purple-grey skin, glowing eyes, and prominent black-and-purple curled horns. A long, serpentine tail extended from her lower back, marking her as something far from human. The other was watching the exchange with silent interest, an unreadable expression on her face.
Longxian observed them all without a flicker of concern for the hostility some displayed. If anything, a glint of approval showed in his eyes at their questioning rather than immediate submission.
"You are right to demand explanations," he acknowledged, addressing them collectively rather than individually—a subtle statement that he viewed them as equals. "I have brought you here not as servants but as allies against a threat that endangers not just my world, but the concept of worlds itself."
With a gesture, he caused the chamber walls to become transparent, revealing the night sky beyond. Unlike a normal starry expanse, this sky was torn with bleeding fractures of light—cosmic wounds that pulsed with unnatural energy.
"For centuries, my empire has defended against invaders from beyond the void—creatures of crystal and light, armies that breathe distorted space, titans that bend reality with their passage. My forces repel them, at great cost, but we cannot reach their source." Longxian's voice remained measured, but his eyes burned with carefully controlled fury. "They test our defenses, learn our patterns, adapt their strategies. They are intelligent, purposeful, and relentless."
"And what makes you think we would fare better?" Artoria asked, her tone neutral but her posture alert.
"Because you are anomalies," Longxian replied. "Heroes and legends from beyond my world's paradigm. Your very existence defies the rules that bind this reality. The enemy studies us because we are predictable—our cultivation, our spiritual energies, our tactics all follow recognizable patterns established over millennia. But you..." he gestured to them, "you each embody different principles, different magics, different concepts of power. You are my unexpected variable in a war that has reached stalemate."
"A clever strategy," Scáthach admitted reluctantly. "But summoning us without consent remains an act of arrogance."
"Not arrogance. Desperation," Longxian corrected, surprising them with his candor. "My world has known peace under my rule for five thousand years. I have conquered every threat, unified every fractious power. But this enemy..." He paused, and for a brief moment, something like doubt crossed his features. "This enemy is different. It attacks from beyond my reach, with powers that defy our understanding."
"Five thousand years?" Xuanzang's eyes widened. "You've lived that long?"
"Cultivation extends life," Longxian explained. "Those who reach sufficient mastery transcend ordinary mortality."
The serpentine woman finally spoke, her voice flowing like water over stones. "I am Ibuki-Douji, avatar of the divine serpent Yamata-no-Orochi. I sense the truth in your words, Emperor. But I also sense that you are not telling us everything."
Longxian met her gaze steadily. "There is more than can be explained in one conversation. But I will hide nothing from you that bears relevance to our shared purpose."
"And what exactly is that purpose?" asked the woman who had not yet introduced herself, her silver-blue hair gleaming in the ethereal light. "What do you expect of us?"
"Your name first, warrior," Longxian requested, though his tone made it clear this was not a demand.
"Uesugi Kenshin," she replied with a slight bow—a warrior's acknowledgment. "God of War of Echigo."
Longxian inclined his head in response. "What I expect, Uesugi Kenshin, is that you will observe our enemy, understand our situation, and make your own choice. I did not bind you in the summoning—unlike traditional practices. You are free to refuse."
This statement clearly surprised several of them.
"You brought us across dimensions with no guarantee of our cooperation?" Zenobia asked incredulously. "That seems a foolish risk for an emperor."
A smile ghosted across Longxian's face—the first real expression he had shown. "The greatest victories require the greatest risks. And I have not survived five millennia by underestimating the hearts of warriors."
Before anyone could respond, a tremendous explosion shook the tower. Through the transparent walls, they could see a new fracture tearing across the night sky, disgorging a massive crystalline entity that plummeted toward the palace.
"It seems our conversation must continue later," Longxian stated calmly, drawing his sword. "The enemy grows bolder. They've never attacked the capital directly before."
"A response to your summoning, perhaps," Artoria suggested, her hand moving to her own invisible weapon.
"Possibly," Longxian agreed. "You have no obligation to fight. The palace has protective formations. You may observe from safety if you wish."
Without waiting for their response, he strode toward the balcony, his entire demeanor shifting subtly. The diplomatic ruler was replaced by something older, more primal—a warrior who had forged an empire through blood and will. His spiritual pressure filled the chamber, a tangible force that would have driven ordinary beings to their knees.
To their credit, none of the summoned heroes flinched.
Nobunaga laughed suddenly, the sound sharp and wild. "Safety is boring! Let's see what these void-creatures are made of!" In a flash of crimson light, she materialized an ornate rifle in her hands and followed Longxian.
"This is not our war," Scáthach cautioned the others. "We owe this emperor nothing."
"Perhaps," Jeanne replied, her banner materializing in her hands. "But if these creatures threaten innocents, can we truly stand aside?"
"Besides," Proto Merlin added with a mischievous smile, "aren't you all at least a little curious?"
One by one, driven by varying motivations—duty, curiosity, bloodlust, or simply the warrior's instinct to face a worthy opponent—they followed the Emperor onto the balcony. Only Artoria hesitated, her green eyes thoughtful.
"Coming, King of Knights?" Kenshin asked from the doorway.
"We know nothing of this world or its politics," Artoria observed. "What if this Emperor is the tyrant, and these invaders the liberators?"
Kenshin considered this. "A valid concern. So let us observe and judge for ourselves."
Together, they stepped out onto the balcony to witness their first battle in this strange new world—not as the Emperor's servants, but as wary allies of convenience. Their cooperation was not yet given, their loyalty far from assured. But as the crystalline monstrosity loomed closer, one thing became clear:
The battle for the Dragon Spire Empire had entered a new phase, and nothing would ever be the same again.
Chapter 2: First Blood
The creature descending upon the imperial palace defied conventional description. It resembled a massive shard of crystal—if crystal could flow like liquid while maintaining rigid edges. Its surface reflected and refracted light in impossible patterns, creating a disorienting visual effect that made it difficult to judge its true size or distance. Within its translucent body, structures like organs pulsed with energy that was neither magical nor mechanical, but something altogether alien.
As it approached, the palace defenses activated. Massive formations carved into the very foundation of the Dragon Spire glowed with ancient power. Barriers of golden light sprang up, layered and complex. Automated defense arrays launched spears of concentrated spiritual energy toward the intruder.
The crystalline entity absorbed the attacks without apparent damage, continuing its descent with inexorable purpose.
"Fascinating," Proto Merlin murmured, studying the creature with professional interest. "It exists partially outside this reality's rules. Your spiritual attacks pass partially through it because they're not fully connecting with its true nature."
"You discerned that from a glance?" Longxian asked, genuine interest in his voice.
"I am the Dream of Origins," she replied with a wink. "Reality's rules are my playthings."
Longxian nodded thoughtfully before turning to address the others. "The palace staff and civilians have been evacuated to the shelter formations. This entity appears to be a scout—larger than normal, but alone. They usually attack in coordinated groups."
"Testing your defenses again," Artoria observed. "But this time, testing your capital's response to a direct threat."
"Precisely," Longxian agreed. "They've never been so bold."
"Then let's show them why," Nobunaga declared, leveling her rifle. "I want to see if these things can burn."
Before anyone could stop her, she fired. The shot was unlike any conventional weapon—a streak of crimson energy that distorted space around it, carrying an unmistakable anti-divine property. When it struck the crystal entity, the creature emitted a high-pitched sound like shattering glass played in reverse. A section of its body momentarily destabilized, becoming smoke-like before reforming.
"It hurt it!" Xuanzang exclaimed in surprise.
"Of course," Nobunaga grinned fiercely. "My flames consume divinity. If this thing thinks itself a god, it will burn like one."
The creature changed course, now moving directly toward the balcony—toward Nobunaga. Its entire form pulsed with angry energy.
"You've drawn its attention," Barghest growled, stepping forward. Her body began to shift subtly, becoming more bestial. "Good. Now I can test its strength myself."
"Wait." Longxian raised his hand. "Observe first. This is unlike their usual behavior. Typically, they avoid direct confrontation with powerful individuals, preferring to target infrastructure or weaker forces."
As if hearing his analysis, the creature suddenly veered away from the balcony, plunging downward toward the palace's central plaza where imperial guards were evacuating the last civilians.
"It's going for the innocents!" Jeanne cried, already leaping from the balcony without hesitation, her banner streaming behind her.
"Predictable," Scáthach commented, though she too moved with blinding speed to follow, shadow-stepping through space rather than jumping.
The others quickly joined, each in their own way—Barghest leaping with bestial strength, Nobunaga dissolving into crimson light, Zenobia commanding her ornate polearms to carry her through the air, Kenshin moving with such perfect technique that gravity seemed merely a suggestion.
Artoria glanced at Longxian. "Aren't you coming, Emperor?"
"I am," he replied, but made no move to leap. Instead, he stepped off the balcony edge and simply stood on air, spiritual energy solidifying beneath his feet to form invisible steps. "But I'm curious to see how you all approach this threat."
Artoria's eyes narrowed slightly at this test, but she summoned her invisible sword and followed the others, her movement precise and efficient.
Below, the crystalline entity had reached the plaza and was extruding long, sharp appendages toward the fleeing civilians. Imperial guards formed a defensive line, their weapons glowing with spiritual energy, but their expressions betrayed their fear—they knew their attacks would be ineffective.
Jeanne reached the ground first, planting her banner before the guards. A shimmering barrier of golden light expanded outward, enveloping the defensive line. "Fall back with the civilians!" she commanded the guards. "We will handle this!"
To their credit, the imperial guards hesitated only briefly before obeying, recognizing the power differential even if they didn't understand who these strangers were.
The crystal entity slammed against Jeanne's barrier, sending spiderweb cracks through the golden light. She grimaced with the effort of maintaining protection against such alien power.
"Allow me," Tomoe Gozen spoke for the first time, nocking an arrow to her bow. Her red eyes glowed with concentration as she imbued the arrow with oni flames. "Let us see if fire from another world affects this creature."
She released, and the arrow transformed mid-flight into a comet of blue-white flame that struck with perfect accuracy at what appeared to be a central node within the crystal. The entity shuddered, its movements becoming momentarily erratic.
"It's vulnerable to attacks it cannot predict," Scáthach observed, shadow-stepping around the creature to analyze it from multiple angles. "Our powers follow different principles than this world's spiritual energy."
"Then let us attack together," Zenobia declared, her polearms spinning around her in an orbit of deadly precision. "A warrior queen knows the value of coordinated strikes."
Without further discussion, they engaged the entity from multiple vectors. Barghest charged directly, her massive form now fully revealed—a beast of nightmare with burning eyes and razor claws that tore into the crystal with surprising effectiveness. Scáthach danced between shadows, her crimson spear striking with precision at the points where the creature's energy flowed most intensely. Kenshin moved like water, her blade a silver blur that somehow cut what should have been unassailable.
Xuanzang chanted sutras that caused sections of the entity to become more solid, more bound to physical laws, making them vulnerable to conventional attacks. Proto Merlin wove dreams into reality, creating illusory copies of the creature that confused its senses. Nobunaga's rifles—now multiplied into a floating array—fired continuously, each shot carrying anti-divine properties that burned away the creature's otherworldly protection.
Artoria observed the battlefield with a tactician's eye, noting the entity's responses, its adaptations, its weaknesses. When she finally moved, it was with perfect economy—a single strike of her invisible sword that severed what appeared to be the creature's main sensory apparatus.
The entity emitted another glass-shattering sound, this time clearly one of pain or distress. It began to pulse with building energy, its entire form becoming increasingly unstable.
"It's going to self-destruct," Longxian warned, finally joining them on the ground. "A common tactic when they're defeated. The explosion will contaminate the area with spatial distortion."
"How large an explosion?" Artoria asked immediately.
"Enough to destroy half the palace complex," he replied grimly.
"Jeanne, Xuanzang—containment," Artoria commanded without hesitation. "Scáthach, can you create a pathway to redirect the force?"
"To the Land of Shadows? Yes," the ancient warrior confirmed, already inscribing runes around the increasingly unstable entity.
"Ibuki, Merlin—stabilize the surrounding space to prevent collateral fractures," Artoria continued, falling naturally into a command role. "Barghest, Tomoe, Zenobia—be ready to physically contain any fragments that escape the initial containment."
She had given no orders to Longxian—either out of respect for his position or uncertainty about his capabilities—but he moved without being directed, his sword tracing complex patterns in the air that seemed to sew reality itself more tightly around the creature.
"It's reaching critical mass," Proto Merlin warned, her playful demeanor replaced by focused concentration.
"Now!" Artoria called.
Jeanne and Xuanzang's barriers overlapped—one a golden shield of faith, the other a mandala of cosmic law. Scáthach's runes ignited, opening a swirling portal to a realm of eternal twilight. The entity's form collapsed in upon itself, imploding rather than exploding as its energy was channeled into Scáthach's pathway.
A moment of tense silence followed, then a distant boom echoed from somewhere beyond reality as the explosion occurred safely in the Land of Shadows.
Scáthach closed the portal with a satisfied nod. "My realm has weathered worse."
For a moment, no one spoke. The imperial guards and returning palace staff stared in awe at the eleven strangers who had dispatched a threat their own defenses had failed against.
"That," Nobunaga broke the silence, "was disappointingly easy. I expected more from creatures that have your mighty empire so concerned, Emperor."
"That was merely a scout," Longxian replied, sheathing his sword. "And it was defeated far more quickly than my forces could have managed, even with my direct intervention." There was no shame in his admission—only pragmatic assessment. "When they attack in force, hundreds of such entities descend simultaneously, many far larger and more complex than this one."
"Hundreds?" Xuanzang's eyes widened. "No wonder you sought help!"
"Indeed." Longxian surveyed the eleven heroes thoughtfully. "You fought well together for beings who only met moments ago. Especially you, King of Knights." He nodded to Artoria. "Your tactical acumen is every bit as legendary as the stories suggest."
"You know of me?" Artoria asked, surprised.
"The ritual required research into the heroes I sought to summon," Longxian explained. "I learned what I could of each of you, though much was fragmentary or contradictory."
"You chose us specifically, then," Zenobia realized, her expression hardening. "This was not chance."
"Of course not," Longxian acknowledged freely. "Would you commit to such a ritual and leave the outcome to fate? I selected each of you for specific attributes, capabilities, and character traits that complement my empire's needs."
"And what trait did you select me for, Emperor?" Ibuki-Douji asked, her serpentine eyes unblinking.
"Adaptability," he answered without hesitation. "Divine beings in my world are rigid, bound by cosmic law and ancient oaths. You, Ibuki-Douji, represent divinity that flows and changes—perfect for countering an enemy that itself defies natural law."
She seemed satisfied with this answer, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"And me?" challenged Barghest, still in his monstrous form. "What use have you for a beast of destruction?"
"Precisely that," Longxian replied. "Destruction without remorse when necessary, but guided by a knight's code. The void-creatures feel no mercy, no hesitation. Sometimes matching that quality is required."
Barghest growled low in approval, gradually shifting back to his more humanoid form.
One by one, Longxian addressed each of them, explaining the specific qualities he had sought: Artoria for her leadership and tactical brilliance, Zenobia for her experience commanding armies against superior forces, Kenshin for her perfect technique that transcended physical limitations, Tomoe for her ability to blend human strategy with oni power, Jeanne for her protective abilities and moral center, Proto Merlin for her mastery over dreams and reality's foundations, Nobunaga for her anti-divine capabilities, Xuanzang for her cosmic insight and binding sutras, Scáthach for her mastery of death and between-realms, and finally:
"And you, Demon King of the Sixth Heaven," he addressed Nobunaga, who had been watching him with unreadable eyes. "You I summoned for your understanding of transformation—how to tear down old orders to build new ones. This war will change my empire irrevocably. I need someone who does not fear such change, but embraces it."
Nobunaga's usual mocking smile faded, replaced by genuine surprise and—perhaps—respect. "You understand me better than most who summon me, Emperor. That's... uncomfortably perceptive."
A commotion from the palace entrance interrupted them as Imperial Consort Mei hurried toward them, followed by a retinue of court officials and guards. Her eyes quickly assessed the situation, relief visible when she saw Longxian unharmed.
"The threat is contained," Longxian informed her before she could ask. "Thanks to our new allies."
Mei studied the eleven strangers with open curiosity. "Then the summoning was successful."
"It was," Longxian confirmed. "Though our guests have not yet decided whether to accept my invitation."
Dragon Spire Ascension: The Emperor Who Summoned Legends
Chapter 3: Uneasy Allies
Mei stepped forward, her flowing robes shimmering with protective enchantments. Unlike Longxian's battle-ready appearance, she embodied refined elegance, yet the spiritual pressure she exuded made it clear she was no mere consort.
"I am Imperial Consort Mei Lihua," she introduced herself with a graceful bow. "On behalf of the Dragon Spire Empire, I formally welcome you to our realm."
"The pleasure is ours," Artoria responded diplomatically, though her tone remained reserved. "Your Emperor has explained some of your situation, though many questions remain."
"Questions best addressed after rest and refreshment," Mei suggested. "You've all been torn across dimensions and immediately thrust into battle. Even heroes require recovery."
"I require nothing," Barghest growled, though his posture had relaxed somewhat. "But food would not be unwelcome."
Nobunaga laughed. "Always thinking with your stomach! But the lady has a point. I could use a drink after all this excitement."
"Then please, follow me," Mei invited, gesturing toward the palace. "Quarters have been prepared for each of you in the Imperial Wing."
Scáthach raised an eyebrow. "The Imperial Wing? Is it customary to house strangers so close to your Emperor?"
"It is not," Mei admitted candidly. "But you are neither strangers nor ordinary guests. The Imperial Wing possesses the strongest protective formations in the palace—both to keep threats out and, if necessary, to contain threats within."
"Refreshingly honest," Proto Merlin commented with a sly smile. "I think I'll like it here."
As they followed Mei toward the palace, palace servants and guards watched with poorly concealed awe and apprehension. The group cut an imposing sight—eleven legendary figures of varying appearances walking alongside their seemingly ageless Emperor and his graceful consort.
Zenobia matched stride with Longxian. "Your people fear us," she observed quietly.
"They fear what they don't understand," he replied. "Five thousand years of stability, and overnight their Emperor introduces eleven unknown variables into the heart of power. Such change breeds uncertainty."
"Change is necessary for growth," she countered. "A stagnant empire crumbles from within."
Longxian glanced at her with newfound interest. "You speak from experience."
"I ruled Palmyra during its greatest expansion," Zenobia said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Until Rome decided we had grown too ambitious."
"And yet here you stand, a legend who transcended defeat," Longxian noted. "While Rome itself is dust."
A small smile played across Zenobia's lips. "Perhaps there's wisdom in you after all, Emperor."
Behind them, Tomoe Gozen had fallen into conversation with Kenshin.
"Your swordsmanship is exceptional," Tomoe commented. "Few can move with such precision."
"As is your archery," Kenshin returned the compliment. "The oni blood gives you power, but the skill is entirely your own."
Tomoe looked surprised at the assessment. "You can distinguish between the two?"
"I've faced many who relied on inherited might rather than earned skill," Kenshin explained. "They are formidable but predictable. You are not."
"A compliment from the God of War," Tomoe smiled slightly. "I'm honored."
Ahead of them, Ibuki-Douji slithered closer to Mei, her serpentine movements drawing nervous glances from nearby servants.
"Tell me, Consort," Ibuki spoke in her flowing voice, "how does a mortal woman hold the attention of an emperor for five millennia? Most men grow restless after mere decades."
Mei met the divine serpent's probing gaze without flinching. "Bold of you to assume I was mortal to begin with, Lady Ibuki."
Ibuki's eyes widened with delighted surprise. "Fascinating! And here I thought this might be a dull assignment."
As they proceeded through the grand corridors of the palace, servants rushed ahead to make final preparations for their arrival. The architecture grew increasingly magnificent—jade pillars carved with dragons, ceilings inlaid with celestial maps that actually moved, showing the real-time positions of stars and planets.
"Your palace is beautiful," Xuanzang commented, gazing around with childlike wonder. "The spiritual foundations are so different from my world's Buddhism, yet I sense similar principles underneath."
"Our cultivation system draws from many traditions," Mei explained. "The Emperor unified not just territories but philosophical schools as well."
"Forced unification?" Jeanne asked, her tone carefully neutral.
"Sometimes," Longxian answered honestly, not slowing his stride. "Where necessary. But more often through demonstration. When one path proves objectively superior, wise cultivators adapt."
They arrived at a magnificent courtyard garden, where a pavilion had been prepared with refreshments. A large circular table was laid with exotic fruits, delicate pastries, steaming teas, and several jars of what appeared to be wine.
"Please, refresh yourselves," Mei invited. "Your personal quarters will be shown to you afterward."
As they settled around the table, the dynamics between them became more apparent. Artoria maintained a dignified reserve, observing everything with tactical awareness. Nobunaga immediately reached for the wine, pouring cups for herself and, uninvited, for Ibuki-Douji who accepted with amused tolerance.
"So, Emperor," Nobunaga raised her cup in a mock toast, "now that we've fought your enemy and seen your palace, tell us what you're not saying. What truly drives these attacks? Mere conquest seems unlikely for beings so alien."
Longxian considered her question while accepting a cup of tea from Mei. "Truthfully, their motives remain unclear. They leave no means of communication, take no prisoners, make no demands."
"All warfare contains logic," Artoria stated. "Even alien logic follows patterns."
"Indeed," Longxian agreed. "Which is why I've formed a hypothesis, though it remains unproven."
He raised his hand, and with a gesture, created a miniature illusion above the table—a representation of their world with swirling spiritual energy currents flowing across it.
"My empire has unified all major spiritual energy systems of this world," he explained. "In doing so, we've created unprecedented harmony in the world's natural energy flows. This—" he gestured to the swirling patterns, "—is unique in the cosmos, according to our oldest records."
"You believe they want to harvest this energy?" Scáthach surmised.
"Or destroy it," Longxian countered. "Or perhaps study it. Their attacks target nexus points in our spiritual defense grid with increasing precision."
Before the discussion could continue, a loud crash interrupted them. All eyes turned to find Proto Merlin standing beside a shattered tea set, looking not at all apologetic.
"Oops," she said with a mischievous smile. "Clumsy me."
Barghest growled in annoyance, but Merlin paid him no mind, instead kneeling to examine the spilled tea leaves.
"Interesting," she murmured. "The patterns formed by accidental spillage often reveal truths hidden from intentional divination."
"And what do you see, Enchantress?" Longxian asked, seemingly unbothered by the broken porcelain.
Merlin looked up, her playful expression suddenly serious. "I see that you're right to be concerned, Emperor. These creatures aren't merely invading—they're testing. Probing. Like surgeons identifying where to cut."
A tense silence fell over the group.
"Cut what, exactly?" Zenobia finally asked.
"The barriers between realms," Merlin replied. "Your world sits at a crossroads of dimensional currents. That's part of why your spiritual energy is so potent. They're not just attacking your empire—they're trying to tear open a permanent gateway."
"To bring through something larger," Jeanne concluded gravely.
"Or to drain this world's energy entirely," Tomoe added.
Longxian's expression remained stoic, but a flicker of confirmation passed through his eyes. "This aligns with my suspicions. Their incursions grow more coordinated, more precise. They're mapping our defenses, our response patterns."
"Then we change the pattern," Artoria stated decisively. "Unpredictability becomes our greatest weapon."
"Exactly why I summoned you," Longxian acknowledged with a slight nod toward her. "Eleven variables they cannot possibly have accounted for."
"Bold of you to assume they don't know about heroes from other realms," Scáthach cautioned. "Beings capable of cross-dimensional invasion may well understand the concept of summoning."
"Perhaps," Longxian conceded. "But they cannot know your specific capabilities, your unique approaches to combat. Even I, who researched you all extensively, was surprised by how effectively you dispatched the scout."
Kenshin, who had been quiet throughout the exchange, finally spoke. "You said your forces can repel them but cannot pursue. Why?"
"The spatial distortions they create when retreating act as one-way paths," Mei explained. "Any who have attempted to follow were either destroyed or lost between dimensions."
"Lost?" Xuanzang perked up. "But not definitely dead?"
"We cannot confirm," Longxian said. "The distortions collapse too quickly for reliable tracking."
"Challenge accepted!" Nobunaga declared suddenly, slamming down her empty wine cup. "Nothing exists that my Demon King's eye cannot track."
"Your confidence is admirable," Longxian replied, "but premature. First, you must all decide whether you will fight alongside us at all."
"You brought us here without consent," Zenobia reminded him. "And yet you now speak as if we have a choice?"
"You do," Longxian stated firmly. "I meant what I said earlier. The summoning created no binding contract. Any who wish to return to their worlds, I will endeavor to send back—though I cannot guarantee success. The ritual was designed for summoning, not returning."
"How convenient," Scáthach commented dryly.
"It is the truth," Mei interjected. "The Emperor could have bound you through traditional methods. He chose a more difficult path specifically to preserve your autonomy."
"And if we stay," Artoria asked, "what exactly are you proposing? That we serve as special forces against these invasions?"
"Initially, yes," Longxian confirmed. "But more importantly, I want you to bring new perspectives to our war. For too long, we've fought defensively, reactively. It's time to take the battle to them."
"A counterinvasion?" Barghest laughed darkly. "Into another dimension? Bold even for an emperor."
"Necessary," Longxian corrected. "This stalemate cannot hold forever. Eventually, they will find a weakness, or develop a strategy we cannot counter."
A thoughtful silence fell over the group as they considered his words. The magnitude of what he proposed was not lost on any of them.
"I will consider your request," Artoria finally said. "But I need time to observe this world, understand its people, its true state. Wars are fought for rulers, but their consequences fall upon the common folk."
"A wise approach," Longxian approved. "I extend the same opportunity to all of you. Take three days to explore the capital, speak with my people, examine our defenses. Then decide."
"And we're free to wander your capital unsupervised?" Ibuki-Douji asked skeptically.
"Within reason," Mei qualified. "Guides will be provided for your convenience, not surveillance. Certain restricted areas remain off-limits, as they would be to any guests."
"Fair enough," Zenobia conceded. "I accept these terms."
One by one, the others agreed to the three-day assessment period. Even the most suspicious among them saw the logic in learning more before committing to this strange new conflict.
"Excellent," Longxian rose from his seat. "Consort Mei will show you to your quarters. Tomorrow, your exploration begins."
As they prepared to depart, Proto Merlin sidled up to Longxian with a mischievous smile. "You're taking quite a gamble, Emperor. What if we all decide to leave?"
"Then I find another solution," he replied simply. "I have ruled for five millennia by adapting to circumstances, not by forcing circumstances to bend to me."
Merlin's eyes sparkled with interest. "Now that," she said softly, "is a perspective I didn't expect from a man who conquered a world."
Before Longxian could respond, Mei called for everyone's attention. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your chambers now."
As they filed out of the garden, Ibuki-Douji deliberately brushed past Longxian, her serpentine tail briefly wrapping around his ankle in what could have been an accident—but clearly wasn't.
"Sleep well, Emperor," she murmured, her voice like silk. "I suspect we all have much to dream about tonight."
Longxian met her gaze evenly, his expression betraying nothing, but something in his eyes—a momentary flash of intrigue, perhaps—caused Ibuki to smile as she slithered after the others.
Left alone in the garden, Longxian looked up at the fractured night sky with its bleeding wounds of light. For the first time in centuries, uncertainty clouded his future—but with it came something he had almost forgotten: the thrill of genuine challenge.
The game had changed. Now he would discover what kind of players these legends truly were.
Chapter 4: Midnight Encounters
The Imperial Wing of the Dragon Spire Palace had been specifically redesigned to accommodate the eleven summoned heroes. Each suite reflected careful research into its occupant's preferences and cultural background, with details that could only have been arranged with considerable foreknowledge.
Artoria's chambers featured clean, elegant lines reminiscent of Camelot's architecture, with a training area equipped with weapons of remarkable craftsmanship. Zenobia found her suite adorned with desert motifs and astronomical charts, while Kenshin's rooms embodied the refined minimalism of traditional Japanese aesthetics.
Tomoe Gozen's quarters included an archery range with targets at impossible distances. Jeanne's suite contained a small prayer altar and volumes of spiritual texts from multiple traditions. Proto Merlin discovered a garden courtyard where reality seemed slightly malleable, perfect for dreamcraft experimentation.
Nobunaga was pleased to find not only an extensive weapons display but also the empire's finest rice wine. Xuanzang's rooms featured a meditation pond and scrolls of this world's philosophical teachings. Barghest's quarters were spacious enough to accommodate his full bestial form, with reinforced furniture and hunting trophies.
Scáthach found her suite designed with shadow alcoves and runic study materials, while Ibuki-Douji's chambers included a massive bathing pool deep enough to submerge her serpentine form completely.
Despite their satisfaction with the accommodations, sleep eluded many of the summoned heroes that night. The sudden displacement across dimensions, combined with the strange new conflict they faced, left minds racing with questions and possibilities.
Near midnight, Artoria stood on her balcony, gazing at the fractured sky. Her armor had been set aside in favor of a simple blue robe provided among her chambers' amenities.
"Troubled, King of Knights?" came a voice from the shadows.
Artoria didn't startle—she had sensed the presence moments before it spoke. "Scáthach. I wondered when one of you would come to discuss our situation privately."
The Queen of the Land of Shadows stepped into the moonlight, her ageless beauty unmarred by the late hour. "You've taken a leadership role already, however unintentional. The others look to you for guidance."
"Not all," Artoria noted dryly. "Nobunaga follows no one's lead but her own."
"Nobunaga respects strength and wisdom, though she'd never admit it," Scáthach replied, leaning against the balcony railing. "What do you make of our host?"
Artoria considered the question carefully. "Emperor Longxian is... not what I expected. He wields absolute power, yet seems genuinely concerned for his people. He conquered this world, yet speaks of preservation rather than expansion."
"Five thousand years is a long time to rule," Scáthach mused. "It changes perspective. I should know."
"What troubles me is not his character, but his desperation," Artoria admitted. "For a ruler of his capability to resort to summoning strangers from across dimensions..."
"The threat must be greater than he's revealed," Scáthach finished the thought.
"Precisely." Artoria turned to face the ancient warrior directly. "Have you made your decision?"
Scáthach's lips curved in a slight smile. "I go where interesting battles await. And this..." she gestured to the wounded sky, "promises to be unlike any conflict I've witnessed in my long existence."
"So you'll stay."
"For now," Scáthach qualified. "As will you, I suspect."
Artoria didn't deny it. "A ruler recognizes when intervention is necessary. If these creatures threaten innocents across dimensions, I cannot in good conscience turn away."
"Noble as always," Scáthach commented, though without mockery. "Rest well, King of Knights. I suspect our real trials begin tomorrow."
As Scáthach melted back into the shadows, Artoria returned her gaze to the fractured heavens, wondering what other conversations were taking place throughout the Imperial Wing that night.
In another part of the Imperial Wing, Zenobia paced her chambers restlessly. The quarters were luxurious beyond question, but confinement—however comfortable—remained confinement to one who had once ruled the eastern deserts.
A soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts.
"Enter," she called, hand instinctively moving to where her weapon would normally be.
The door slid open to reveal Kenshin, still fully dressed despite the late hour. "Forgive the intrusion, Queen of Palmyra. I sensed you were awake."
"The God of War pays me a midnight visit," Zenobia observed with raised eyebrows. "Should I be honored or concerned?"
"Neither," Kenshin replied calmly. "I merely thought you might appreciate company in your restlessness. These chambers, while beautiful, feel constraining to those accustomed to command."
Zenobia studied the Japanese warrior with new interest. "Perceptive. Please, enter."
Kenshin stepped inside, moving with fluid grace that seemed almost supernatural. "I've been exploring the palace through the Spirit Pathways. The Emperor's defenses are impressive, but curiously... permeable."
"You can bypass them?" Zenobia asked sharply.
"Not entirely," Kenshin clarified. "But they seem designed to allow certain movements, as if intentionally creating blind spots."
"A test," Zenobia realized. "He's observing which of us discover these pathways."
Kenshin nodded. "My conclusion as well. The question is whether this is merely to assess our capabilities, or something more."
"Such as?"
"Perhaps he truly wants allies who can move freely, even without his knowledge," Kenshin suggested. "A five-thousand-year empire breeds complacency, even in its Emperor."
Zenobia considered this perspective. "You believe he seeks disruption intentionally? That seems... counterintuitive for a ruler."
"Not disruption," Kenshin corrected gently. "Renewal. Even the strongest blade dulls without proper maintenance."
"You speak as if you admire him," Zenobia noted, watching Kenshin's expression carefully.
"I respect what I've observed thus far," Kenshin admitted. "But observation continues. Would you care to join me in exploring these Spirit Pathways? Your strategic insight would be valuable."
Zenobia smiled slowly. "Lead on, God of War. Let's see what secrets this palace truly holds."
Elsewhere in the Imperial Wing, Nobunaga had predictably ignored the late hour and invited herself into Proto Merlin's chambers, bringing several jars of wine and a proposition.
"You can peer into dreams, yes?" Nobunaga asked, pouring generously for them both. "Why not take a look at our gracious host's subconscious? Might be enlightening."
Proto Merlin laughed, the sound like crystal bells. "Bold of you to assume I haven't tried! But the Emperor's mind is... unusual. Layered with protections I've rarely encountered."
"Disappointing," Nobunaga sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you were supposed to be special."
"Oh, I am," Merlin winked. "I didn't say impossible, just unusual. Given time, I could probably slip past his defenses. But the question is whether we should."
"Since when does the Dream of Origins care about 'should'?" Nobunaga challenged.
"Since finding myself in a world where the very fabric of reality is being systematically attacked," Merlin replied, suddenly serious. "This isn't a game, Demon King. Whatever these void-creatures are, they represent a threat beyond ordinary conquest."
Nobunaga studied her companion with uncharacteristic solemnity. "You sensed something during the battle today. Something you haven't shared."
Merlin swirled her wine thoughtfully. "The creature we fought wasn't just mapping physical space. It was... tasting the spiritual essence of this world. Like a predator sampling prey."
"And?"
"And I caught a glimpse of what waits beyond those fractures," Merlin admitted quietly. "It's vast, Nobunaga. Vast and hungry and patient. These scouts are just fingers reaching through a keyhole."
Nobunaga drained her cup in a single swallow. "Well," she said, refilling immediately, "that sounds like a worthy opponent at last! I was beginning to think this summoning would be boring."
Merlin laughed despite herself. "Only you would find cosmic horror exciting."
"Life's too long for fear, Enchantress," Nobunaga grinned. "Now, tell me more about these dreams you can influence. I have some ideas for pranking Barghest..."
In yet another section of the Imperial Wing, Jeanne found herself unable to meditate despite her best efforts. The spiritual energy of this world felt different—not incompatible with her faith, but resonating at a different frequency that made her usual practices challenging.
A soft noise from her doorway drew her attention.
"Who's there?" she called, rising smoothly to her feet.
"Forgive me," came Xuanzang's cheerful voice as she poked her head in. "I saw light under your door and thought you might be awake too!"
Jeanne relaxed slightly. "Sister Xuanzang. Please, enter."
The monk bounced into the room with barely contained energy despite the late hour. "Isn't this place amazing? The spiritual meridians running through the palace are like nothing I've seen before! They're so integrated with the physical structure!"
"You can sense them too?" Jeanne asked with interest.
"Of course! As Buddha's disciple, I'm attuned to spiritual foundations," Xuanzang explained. "But these are different from my world's Buddhism. More... intentional somehow."
"Designed rather than evolved," Jeanne nodded. "I've noticed the same. The Emperor mentioned unifying spiritual traditions. Perhaps this is the result—a deliberately constructed spiritual ecosystem."
Xuanzang sat cross-legged on the floor, her expression becoming uncharacteristically thoughtful. "I've been trying to understand why exactly we were summoned. Not the surface reason—the void-creatures—but the deeper purpose."
"You sense ulterior motives?" Jeanne asked cautiously.
"Not deceptive ones," Xuanzang clarified. "But specific. The Emperor didn't just need powerful warriors—his empire has those already. He needed something else that only outsiders could provide."
"Perspective," Jeanne suggested. "Fresh eyes see what familiar ones overlook."
"Yes, but more than that," Xuanzang insisted. "I think he needs disruption. The way water becomes stagnant without movement. Five thousand years of perfect order..."
"Creates perfect rigidity," Jeanne finished, understanding dawning. "A system so optimized it cannot adapt to unprecedented threats."
Xuanzang beamed. "Exactly! He's not just seeking our power—he's seeking our chaos!"
Jeanne considered this insight with growing appreciation. "That... actually makes considerable sense. And explains why he selected such disparate personalities rather than a more cohesive group."
"We're supposed to clash!" Xuanzang declared happily. "Our disagreements are features, not bugs!"
Despite herself, Jeanne smiled at the monk's enthusiasm. "If you're right, our host is playing a deeper game than any of us realized."
"Isn't it exciting?" Xuanzang bounced slightly. "Five thousand years old and still clever enough to surprise us! I think I'm going to like it here."
"Your optimism is refreshing," Jeanne admitted. "Perhaps you'd join me in prayer? I find my usual methods aren't quite aligning with this world's spiritual frequency."
"Of course!" Xuanzang agreed eagerly. "We can create a hybrid meditation! East meets West meets alternate dimension!"
As the saint and the monk settled into shared spiritual practice, each drawing from the other's traditions, neither noticed the faint smile of approval from the shadowy figure that briefly passed by Jeanne's doorway—Imperial Consort Mei, making her own midnight rounds.
Far from the others' chambers, at the very end of the Imperial Wing's eastern corridor, Ibuki-Douji luxuriated in her massive bathing pool. Steam rose from the scented waters as she allowed her true form to partially manifest—her lower body fully serpentine, coiling through the deeper sections of the pool while her upper body remained humanoid.
"Enjoying the accommodations?" came a deep voice from the entrance to the bathing chamber.
Ibuki didn't bother covering herself, instead stretching languidly as she turned to face her visitor. "Emperor Longxian. How bold of you to enter a lady's bath without invitation."
Longxian stood in the doorway, still dressed in the same robes he'd worn earlier, showing no signs of fatigue despite the late hour. "You left your door open and your spiritual presence unmasked. That seems invitation enough."
Her lips curved into an amused smile. "Perceptive. Most wouldn't dare regardless."
"I am not most," he replied simply, though he made no move to approach further. "I came to ensure the accommodations meet your needs. Divine beings often have... specific requirements."
"How thoughtful," Ibuki purred, her tail creating gentle ripples in the water. "The pool is perfect for my true form. Though I wonder why you'd design such specific chambers before knowing for certain I would accept your summoning."
"Confidence," Longxian stated. "Or perhaps optimism."
"Neither seems characteristic of an emperor who's ruled for five millennia," Ibuki observed, studying him with unblinking serpentine eyes. "What do you really want from me, Sovereign of the Dragon Spire?"
Longxian met her gaze directly. "Exactly what I stated earlier. Your unique perspective on divinity. In this world, divine beings are bound by rigid cosmic laws. You represent something more... fluid."
"Fluid," Ibuki repeated, deliberately allowing her tail to surface and then submerge again with a splash. "An apt description."
"The void-creatures defy conventional spiritual categorization," Longxian continued. "They are neither divine nor demonic, neither yin nor yang. My scholars struggle to classify them, which makes countering them more difficult."
"And you believe I might understand them better?"
"I believe you might see patterns others miss," he clarified. "Your nature bridges multiple categorical boundaries."
Ibuki considered this, then gestured to the edge of the pool. "Join me, Emperor. Conversations of cosmic significance deserve proper setting."
Longxian paused, then inclined his head slightly. "Another time, perhaps. Dawn approaches, and there are matters requiring my attention."
"Refusing a divine invitation?" Ibuki's eyes glittered with amusement. "How unusual."
"I prefer to earn invitations, not merely accept them," Longxian replied with the ghost of a smile. "Rest well, Divine Beast. Tomorrow begins your exploration of my capital."
As he turned to leave, Ibuki called after him. "Emperor. One question."
He paused in the doorway. "Yes?"
"These chambers are positioned farthest from yours, yet closest to the palace's eastern defensive array. Am I being honored or contained?"
Longxian looked back at her, genuine appreciation in his expression. "Perceptive indeed. Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. Good night, Ibuki-Douji."
As he disappeared from view, Ibuki sank deeper into the waters, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Interesting," she murmured to herself. "Very interesting indeed."
Chapter 5: Morning Revelations
Dawn broke over the Dragon Spire capital city, its light filtering through the fractured sky in prismatic patterns that cast otherworldly shadows across the imperial gardens. The palace awakened to the sound of weapons clashing—not from enemy attack, but from the central training courtyard where several of the summoned heroes had gathered to test themselves against each other.
Tomoe Gozen and Uesugi Kenshin circled each other with fluid precision, their swords catching the morning light. A small audience had formed—palace guards watching with undisguised awe as two legendary warriors demonstrated combat forms unknown in their world.
Kenshin moved like flowing water, each strike seamlessly connecting to the next. Tomoe countered with precision born from hundreds of battles, her oni heritage granting her speed that would have been invisible to normal eyes.
"Magnificent," murmured a senior guard captain to his lieutenant. "The God of War's technique seems to ignore physical limitations entirely."
"But Lady Tomoe's power..." the lieutenant whispered back. "Look how the air ripples around her blade."
Neither combatant used their full strength—this was clearly exhibition rather than true combat—but even their restrained display outclassed anything the imperial guards had witnessed before.
From a balcony overlooking the courtyard, Artoria and Zenobia observed the match with professional interest.
"They're holding back significantly," Artoria noted.
"Of course," Zenobia agreed. "But they're revealing enough to impress our hosts while analyzing the palace defenses."
Artoria raised an eyebrow. "You think this is tactical?"
"Everything is tactical in unfamiliar territory," Zenobia replied. "Kenshin is testing how the palace's spiritual energy responds to different combat techniques. Tomoe is gauging the reaction of the guards—their training level, response times, alert protocols."
"And what are we doing, Queen of Palmyra?" Artoria asked with the hint of a smile.
"Observing those who observe, of course," Zenobia returned the smile. "The Emperor himself has been watching from that pavilion for the past ten minutes, though he's cloaked his presence quite skillfully."
Artoria nodded slightly. "As has Consort Mei from the eastern corridor. They're evaluating us as much as we them."
"A dance of mutual assessment," Zenobia mused. "Reminds me of diplomatic meetings with Rome before relations soured."
Below, the sparring match concluded with both warriors bowing respectfully to each other. Imperial guards applauded enthusiastically, several moving forward to request instruction or advice.
"Interesting," Artoria observed. "The guards show no resentment at being outclassed, only eagerness to learn."
"A healthy military culture," Zenobia acknowledged. "Suggests the Emperor values growth over ego in his forces. Unusual for a long-established empire."
"Perhaps not so unusual for this one," came a new voice as Proto Merlin joined them on the balcony, looking suspiciously well-rested despite the late-night drinking with Nobunaga. "I've been dreamwalking through the capital while you martial types clash swords. The civilian population genuinely reveres their Emperor."
"Reverence can be manufactured," Zenobia pointed out.
"True devotion cannot," Merlin countered. "There's a difference between subjects who obey from fear and those who follow from love. These people believe Longxian saved their world from chaos and continues to protect them."
"And this assessment comes from dreamwalking?" Artoria asked skeptically.
"Dreams don't lie, King of Knights," Merlin winked. "They may distort and symbolize, but the underlying emotions are always true. These people feel secure under their Emperor's rule, despite the void-creatures' attacks."
"Speaking of which," Zenobia nodded toward the fractured sky, "the incursions seem less frequent by daylight."
"Light affects their manifestation," explained another voice as Scáthach materialized from the shadow of a nearby pillar. "I spent the night tracking the fracture patterns. They follow cycles corresponding to this world's celestial movements."
"You've gleaned that much already?" Artoria asked, impressed despite herself.
"The Land of Shadows exists between realms," Scáthach replied. "I recognize dimensional instabilities when I see them. These fractures are not random—they're being deliberately created at specific weak points in reality's fabric."
"Targeted attacks," Zenobia concluded grimly. "As we suspected."
"More precisely, surgical incisions," Scáthach corrected. "They're creating a pattern across the sky—a massive array of some kind."
This revelation brought a moment of concerned silence to the group.
"We should share this with the Emperor," Artoria finally said.
"Already aware," came Longxian's voice as he joined them on the balcony, no longer concealing his presence. "Good morning, honored guests. I see you've wasted no time in beginning your assessments."
If he was concerned about them discovering his surveillance, he showed no sign of it. Instead, he appeared genuinely pleased by their initiative.
"You knew about the array pattern?" Scáthach asked directly.
"We identified it approximately eighty years ago," Longxian confirme