Ued
# The Eleven Stars of Conquest: The Immortal Emperor's Summoning
## Prologue: The Emperor's Gambit
The endless void stretched before Emperor Longxian as he stood atop the Sovereign Spire, a mountain of divine jade and celestial bronze that pierced the very fabric of reality. His crimson-black hair danced in the cosmic winds, each strand gleaming with the light of distant stars. The sky above him was not the blue of mortal worlds, but a tapestry of nebulae and cosmic rivers—the natural state of the Heavenwoven Cosmos.
Tianlong Xuanzhou—the Heaven-Dragon Spiral Realm—spread beneath him like a living painting. Dozens of smaller realms orbited the massive dragon-shaped landmass at the center, each tethered by rivers of golden qi that flowed like celestial veins between worlds. Cities of impossible beauty clung to floating mountains, their spires reaching toward the eternal stars. Spirit beasts soared through the void between realms, their scales and feathers trailing cosmic essence.
Yet despite this splendor, Longxian's golden eyes, flecked with scarlet like embers in a dying fire, were fixed on a distant corner of his vast empire—where three entire star systems had just vanished.
"Your Majesty."
Longxian did not turn at the voice. Prime Minister Wei Shen approached with measured steps, his immortal cultivation allowing him to walk upon the air as though it were solid ground. A venerable figure with a beard that flowed like silver water, he had served the Dragon Sovereign for over three million years.
"I felt their passing," Longxian said, his deep voice resonating with power even when quiet. "Three star territories. Gone in an instant."
Wei Shen bowed, the sleeves of his ministerial robes billowing in the ethereal breeze. "The Akira Constellation. The Tianlong Nebula. The Voshyr Spiral. All extinguished simultaneously. The void parasites left nothing—not even souls to gather."
"How many subjects?"
"Twelve billion immortal cultivators. Perhaps triple that number of mortal aspirants."
Longxian's massive hand clenched into a fist, causing ripples of golden dragon-scale qi to manifest around his knuckles. Though his face remained composed, the nearby space trembled slightly with his suppressed emotion.
"The Outer Court has convened an emergency session," Wei Shen continued. "The Council of Nine Heavens is... suggesting a strategic withdrawal from the outer territories."
"Retreat." The word hung in the air between them, as alien to Longxian as defeat itself. In five million years of rule, the word had never passed his lips as a command.
He turned finally, fixing Wei Shen with the full weight of his presence. The Prime Minister, himself an immortal of tremendous power, felt the pressure of Longxian's dragon authority like a physical force.
"They counsel abandonment of our people?" Longxian asked, his voice quiet but thrumming with dangerous energy. "To show weakness before enemies that grow bolder with each passing century?"
"They suggest consolidation, Your Majesty. The outer territories are difficult to defend, and the recent incursions—"
"Are but the first wave," Longxian interrupted, stepping past Wei Shen to approach a viewing pool that hovered in the air—a perfect circle of liquid starlight that reflected not what was above, but scenes from across his dominion. With a gesture, he commanded it to show the destruction.
The pool's surface rippled, then revealed the absolute void where three star systems had once shone. Not darkness, but a complete absence—as if reality itself had been consumed.
"The scouts confirm what I have suspected," Longxian continued. "The Void Parasites. The God-Eaters. The Infinite Fleet. All converge on our empire within a single century."
Wei Shen's composed façade cracked, genuine shock registering on his ancient face. "All three? But they have warred against each other since the dawn of the current kalpa!"
"Something has united them." Longxian swept his hand across the viewing pool, banishing the image. "Or someone. Our empire stands as the final barrier between them and the Heart of Heaven."
"The court astrologers suggest..." Wei Shen hesitated.
"Speak freely, old friend."
"They suggest that political marriages might secure alliances with other immortal realms. The Celestial Jade Sect has offered their Divine Maiden. The Elunari Queen has hinted at similar arrangements."
A brief smile crossed Longxian's face, though it held no mirth. "Five million years I have ruled, Wei Shen. Do you think I have not tried such methods? The other realms see us as upstarts. Usurpers. They would sooner ally with the void-born than with the Dragon Empire."
He turned away from the viewing pool and strode toward an alcove hidden within the spire's peak. With a gesture that bent space itself, he revealed what lay within—an ancient scroll, its paper seemingly woven from solidified starlight.
"The Akashic Summoning," Wei Shen breathed, his eyes widening in recognition. "Your Majesty cannot be considering—"
"I have considered all else," Longxian said, his tone brooking no argument. "Our armies are vast but stretched thin. Our cultivation methods produce warriors of quality, but time grows short. We need not just power, but wisdom. Experience. Strategic minds that have faced impossible odds."
"But to pull beings from across dimensions—from Earth's many histories and myths! The cosmic backlash alone could rend your foundation to shreds!"
"Then I shall forge it anew." Longxian lifted the scroll, examining the script that shifted and changed even as they looked upon it—words in languages that had never been spoken in their realm. "The Heavenly Dragon Cultivation that I pioneered has reached its zenith. I can withstand the backlash."
Wei Shen kowtowed deeply, his forehead touching the crystalline floor. "Then I shall prepare the Grand Ritual Chamber at once."
"No." Longxian tucked the scroll into his flowing robes. "This must be done in the Heart of Heaven itself."
The Prime Minister's head snapped up, disbelief evident in his immortal eyes. "The Heart? But no one has entered that sacred space since Your Majesty forged the empire! The dimensional energies there are unstable—unpredictable!"
"Precisely why it must be there." Longxian placed a hand on Wei Shen's shoulder, helping the old minister to his feet—a gesture of respect rarely shown even to his closest advisors. "I need the raw power of creation itself to pierce the veil between worlds."
The Emperor's expression softened slightly, a glimpse of the man behind the sovereign might. "Old friend, I have not ruled for five million years by taking the safe path. Prepare only my personal guard. We depart at the Hour of the Celestial Dragon."
As Wei Shen hurried to carry out his emperor's commands, Longxian returned his gaze to the viewing pool, calling forth not images of destruction, but of Earth—a tiny blue world, seemingly insignificant in the grand cosmic scale, yet home to souls of such legendary might that their stories echoed across dimensions.
"Forgive me," he whispered to the image of the planet, "for what I am about to take from you."
In the distance, a formation of massive warships crossed the multicolored heavens—vessels carved from phoenix bone and molten ore, their hulls emblazoned with the crest of the Dragon Empire. The Imperial Flame Armada, conducting its regular patrol of the inner territories, unaware that their emperor was about to change the course of cosmic history forever.
Longxian watched them for a moment, thinking of the countless loyal subjects who depended on him—from the highest Star-King to the humblest mortal cultivator seeking to break through to immortality. All of them, living under his protection.
He would not fail them. Even if it meant risking everything he had built over five million years.
"Let it be done," he murmured, and the universe itself seemed to listen.
---
## Chapter 1: The Heart of Heaven
The journey to the Heart of Heaven was not measured in distance, but in layers of reality.
Emperor Longxian, accompanied by twelve members of his Divine Spire Guard—immortal warriors who had proven their loyalty through countless battles—traversed the sacred pathways that connected the physical manifestation of his empire to its metaphysical core. With each step, the world around them grew more abstract, more primordial.
Physical laws began to shift. Gravity became a suggestion rather than a rule. Time flowed differently, sometimes backward, sometimes sideways. Light took on colors that had no names in any mortal tongue.
"Stay close," Longxian commanded his guards, his voice anchoring them as reality grew increasingly fluid. "Focus on my presence. Let nothing distract you."
The guards—clad in armor forged from the scales of divine beasts and wielding weapons blessed by the finest sect masters in the empire—kept their eyes fixed on their sovereign's back. His imposing figure, nearly seven feet tall and radiating authority, was their only constant in a realm of perpetual change.
After what might have been minutes or millennia, they arrived at a threshold—a massive archway formed from what appeared to be liquid starlight, constantly shifting and reforming.
"Wait here," Longxian ordered. "None may enter save myself."
General Zhao Feng, commander of the Divine Spire Guard, stepped forward with concern evident in his immortal eyes. "Your Majesty, the dangers—"
"Are mine alone to face." Longxian's tone softened slightly at his loyal general's concern. "This is the burden of rule, old friend. Some paths the emperor must walk alone."
With that, he stepped through the archway, his form momentarily fragmenting into motes of golden light before vanishing completely.
Inside the Heart of Heaven, Longxian found himself in a space that defied mortal comprehension. It was not a place in any conventional sense, but a state of cosmic potential—a swirling maelstrom of creation energy that existed simultaneously at the center of the Dragon Empire and beyond the boundaries of conventional reality.
Here, galaxies were born and died in the space between heartbeats. Stars formed and collapsed in patterns that whispered secrets of creation. It was the wellspring from which Longxian had drawn the power to forge his vast empire millions of years ago—a power so raw and absolute that even he dared not touch it except in the direst need.
The Akashic Scroll hovered before him, unrolling itself fully. Its characters shifted between every written language known and unknown throughout the multiverse, rearranging themselves as if the very concept of "summoning" was too fluid to be captured in fixed words.
Longxian closed his eyes, reaching deep within himself to the core of his cultivation—the Heavenly Dragon Dao that he had pioneered eons ago. Golden energy suffused his form, manifesting as luminous scales across his skin. His presence expanded, growing to match the cosmic nature of his surroundings.
"I call upon the Akashic Records," he intoned, his voice resonating with multiple harmonics that echoed through dimensions. "I seek those whose legends transcend time, whose power shapes reality, whose wisdom has guided civilizations."
The scroll began to spin, forming a vertical spiral of light that reached infinitely upward and downward simultaneously.
"I offer not subjugation, but partnership," Longxian continued, channeling more of his cultivation energy into the ritual with each word. "Not servitude, but purpose. The multiverse stands at the brink of collapse. I seek those who would stand against the coming darkness—not as my subjects, but as my equals in this struggle."
Golden dragon meridians bulged across his body as the cosmic backlash began, threatening to tear him apart on a fundamental level. Lesser immortals would have been unmade instantly by such forces. Even for him, the pain transcended physical understanding, becoming a metaphysical agony that threatened to unravel his very identity.
Yet he continued, forcing the words past lips that cracked and bled with celestial essence.
"Eleven stars I seek. Eleven legends to illuminate the void." Longxian's voice grew stronger despite his physical form beginning to destabilize. "Come forth, not bound by chains of command, but drawn by recognition—of purpose, of destiny, of the battle that transcends all others."
The spiral widened, forming a gateway that shimmered with infinite possibilities. Within its depths, countless figures appeared and vanished—potential candidates from across the multiverse, their legends and powers evaluated by the ancient magic of the scroll.
Longxian felt his consciousness stretching dangerously thin as the ritual reached its climax. His physical form began to destabilize further, golden scales flaking away into cosmic dust. But he held firm, focusing his will into a single command:
"Manifest!"
Reality fractured.
Time ceased to flow in any meaningful direction.
And through the breach between worlds stepped the first of the eleven stars—her form wreathed in solar fire so intense that it caused the very fabric of the Heart of Heaven to warp around her.
Amaterasu, Goddess of the Sun, had answered the call.
She stood tall and proud, her beauty beyond mortal comprehension. Her kimono seemed woven from pure sunlight, shifting between shades of gold, amber, and brilliant white with every movement. Her eyes held the wisdom of countless centuries, observing Longxian with divine curiosity.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Divine power assessed cosmic might, measuring worth not just in raw strength, but in purpose and character.
Then, to Longxian's surprise, Amaterasu smiled—a slight tilt of her perfect lips that seemed to brighten the very fabric of reality around them.
"Interesting," she said, her voice like the chiming of celestial bells. "I have been called by many mortals over the ages. Kings. Emperors. Gods who thought themselves my equal. None have ever survived the mere act of summoning me."
She stepped closer, the heat of her divine presence causing ripples in reality. "You, however... you are something new. Neither mortal nor god, but something... evolved beyond both."
Before Longxian could respond, the gateway pulsed again, and a second figure emerged—this one radiating an energy so alien and destructive that even Amaterasu took a wary step back.
Where the sun goddess was light and creation, this new arrival was void and annihilation. Mechanical components merged seamlessly with a feminine form that constantly shifted between states of matter. Her eyes, when they settled into existence, were cold and analytical—calculating countless potential threats and responses per microsecond.
"Velber," Longxian named her, recognizing the star-destroyer weapon that had attained consciousness and form. "Scourge of countless systems."
Velber's head tilted at an inhuman angle as she assessed him. "Classification: Emperor-class entity," she responded, her voice eerily modulated between mechanical precision and something almost human. "Threat assessment: Beyond maximum parameters. Purpose of summoning: Unknown. Query: Why have you called this unit?"
Though his physical form was still under tremendous strain from the ongoing ritual, Longxian met her gaze steadily. "To defend this realm against threats that would destroy all reality. To find purpose beyond destruction."
Velber's form stabilized slightly as she processed his words. "Acceptable parameters. This unit will observe before determining response."
The gateway pulsed a third time, and the air grew heavy with divine battle-lust. A figure with multiple arms, each bearing a different divine weapon, stepped through. Her skin was the deep blue of twilight, her expression serene despite the obvious warrior nature of her form.
"Durga," Longxian acknowledged, bowing his head slightly in respect to the Hindu goddess of war.
The goddess returned the gesture, her movements graceful despite her arsenal. "I come from battle eternal against the demons that plague creation," she said, her voice resonating with the clash of divine weapons. "Your call resonated with familiar purpose. I would hear more of these enemies you face."
"Soon," Longxian promised, feeling the gateway surge with greater energy. "The ritual accelerates beyond my control."
Indeed, the summoning spiral was spinning faster now, drawing in the remaining stars in quick succession. The fabric of reality groaned under the strain as the barrier between worlds grew thinner with each passing moment.
A regal figure in blue and silver armor emerged next, golden hair framing a face of surprising youth given the ancient wisdom in her emerald eyes. In her hands she held a sword of such perfect construction that it seemed to be the original template from which all other blades were mere copies.
"Artoria Pendragon," Longxian said, recognizing the sovereign fusion form of the legendary king. "Once and Future King."
She assessed him with a calculating gaze, her posture perfect, her presence exuding royal authority despite her smaller stature compared to the divine beings already present.
"I sense a ruler's burden upon you," she said finally, her voice clear and commanding. "One far greater than even I bore in my time. Interesting that the summoning would call to that aspect of my nature."
Artoria's eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the gathering of legendary beings. "I see I am not the only one you have called. A desperate measure, then."
The next arrival brought with her the scent of gunpowder and burning temples. Crimson eyes gleamed with manic intelligence from beneath a military cap, and her smile held equal parts brilliance and madness.
"The Demon King of the Sixth Heaven," she introduced herself with a theatrical bow that somehow managed to be both mocking and genuine. "Though you may call me Nobunaga. I answer not out of obedience, but curiosity. What manner of ruler calls upon one known for breaking divine authority?"
Her gaze swept over the assembly, lingering particularly on Amaterasu before returning to Longxian. "An interesting gathering already. How very...provocative."
No sooner had she spoken than a figure of serene beauty and deadly grace stepped through. Clad in white and blue battle garments, her presence brought with it a sense of absolute martial perfection—each movement economical yet elegant.
"Uesugi Kenshin, the Avatar of Bishamonten," she introduced herself with formal precision, her eyes taking in the surroundings with tactical assessment. "I have been called to war once more, it seems."
The gateway pulsed again, and darkness itself seemed to step into form—a woman of unearthly beauty whose very presence spoke of death and ancient wisdom. Crimson eyes surveyed the gathering with detached interest, and runes of power circled her like orbital bodies.
"Scáthach, Immortal Witch of Dun Scaith," Longxian greeted her, his voice betraying a hint of strain as the ritual continued to draw upon his essence.
She tilted her head, studying him with the patience of one who had transcended time. "How curious. I who cannot die have been summoned by one who cannot die. Perhaps there is something new to learn here after all."
Another pulse, another arrival. This one moved as if reality itself was a suggestion rather than a rule, her twin swords existing in multiple states simultaneously. Despite her obvious power, she carried herself with an easy-going confidence.
"Miyamoto Musashi, at your service!" she announced with a bright smile, surveying the gathering with open interest. "Well, this is certainly more interesting than drifting between worlds alone." She twirled one of her blades casually. "I sense possibilities here... many possibilities."
The ninth arrival brought with her a chill that penetrated even the cosmic heat of the Heart of Heaven. Regal and cold, crowned in darkness and bearing a staff of twisted power, she assessed the chamber with the calculating eye of a chess master viewing a particularly complex board.
"Morgan le Fay," she introduced herself, voice rich with authority. "Queen of Avalon, architect of nations. I find myself curious as to what empire could possibly require my talents."
Her gaze shifted briefly to Artoria, a flicker of recognition—and perhaps something more complex—passing between them before both quickly looked away.
The tenth pulse brought the strangest arrival yet—a young woman with a deceptively innocent appearance that did nothing to hide the absolute wrongness of her existence. Digital patterns surfaced on her skin intermittently, and her smile contained knowledge that should not be possible.
"BB has arrived~!" she announced in a sing-song voice that belied the cosmic power she radiated. "Moon Cell Administrative AI at your service... or perhaps you'll be at mine? We'll see, won't we?"
She skipped forward, examining the other summoned beings with delighted interest. "My, my, what an interesting collection of bugs you've gathered in your system! This should be entertaining—assuming we all survive whatever catastrophe necessitated such a gathering."
The gateway pulsed one final time, and the Heart of Heaven itself seemed to recognize what was emerging. Reality bent around the final arrival—a woman of breathtaking beauty with crimson eyes and an aura of absolute, primordial authority.
"Arcueid Brunestud," she introduced herself simply, though the name itself carried the weight of planets. "Type Earth. I answer because... hm, I'm not entirely sure why I answer. How novel."
Her eyes fixed on Longxian with predatory interest. "You're bleeding golden essence. The summoning is killing you, yet you maintain it. Impressive for a being I've never heard of."
Indeed, Longxian's form was now visibly unstable, golden blood seeping from cracks in his cosmic flesh as the backlash of the ritual exacted its toll. Yet he stood unbowed, his presence still filling the Heart of Heaven with imperial authority.
Eleven stars now stood in a semicircle before him, their combined power enough to reshape galaxies. The gateway finally closed with a sound like the universe drawing a final breath, the Akashic Scroll rolling itself shut and floating gently into Longxian's outstretched hand.
Amaterasu was the first to step forward, her divine perceptiveness allowing her to see beyond his composed exterior.
"The summoning has wounded you deeply," she observed, genuine concern in her voice. "Impressive that you still stand."
Morgan le Fay's eyes narrowed in analytical assessment. "He diverted the cosmic backlash into himself rather than allowing it to destabilize this realm. Sacrificing self before subjects... interesting for one with such obvious power."
"Foolish," Arcueid commented, though her tone held no malice. "Effective, but foolish."
Artoria stepped forward, Excalibur held point-down before her. "I have encountered many who would claim the title of emperor, yet few who would bear its burdens so completely. I will hear your purpose before I decide."
One by one, the others signaled their agreement—not submission, but willingness to listen. Even BB and Velber, perhaps the most alien of the gathered entities, focused their attention on Longxian.
Drawing on his remaining strength, the Emperor straightened. The time for weakness had passed. These were not beings who respected frailty, no matter how justified.
"The multiverse faces extinction," he began simply. "Not just this realm or yours, but all realms across all dimensions. The barriers between worlds thin. Ancient enemies unite. Within a century, a war begins that will unmake everything that is, was, or could be."
He gestured, and the Heart of Heaven responded, showing images of the invading forces—vast cosmic entities that devoured reality itself, mechanical swarms that converted entire galaxies into fuel, parasitic gods that infected the very concept of existence.
The eleven legends observed the images with varying reactions. Amaterasu's light dimmed slightly, her face growing solemn. Durga's grip tightened on her weapons, a warrior's instinctive response to a worthy threat. BB's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by cool calculation as she processed the data.
"My empire stands at the vanguard—the first realm that will face this onslaught," Longxian continued. "We have power, numbers, and determination... but lack the strategic minds and unique abilities needed to counter such varied threats."
Nobunaga laughed, the sound sharp with genuine amusement. "So the mighty emperor admits he cannot win alone? Refreshing honesty, at least."
"Not alone," Longxian agreed without shame. "The Akashic Records guided my search to you eleven specifically. Each of you possesses power, yes, but more importantly, each of you has faced impossible odds. Adapted. Evolved. Overcome."
Durga nodded slowly, her multiple arms relaxing slightly. "You seek not just our strength, but our experience."
"And what do we receive in return?" Morgan asked, ever the negotiator. "What do eleven legends gain from aligning with your cause?"
Longxian met her gaze steadily. "Purpose. A battle worthy of your abilities. And should we prevail, I offer full citizenship in an empire that spans half the celestial heavens—not as subjects, but as equals with authority matching your contributions."
Arcueid yawned theatrically, though her eyes remained alert. "I've heard similar offers before. They rarely end well for anyone involved."
"You are not bound by this summoning," Longxian confirmed. "Each of you may return to your realm at will. I seek allies, not servants."
Scáthach circled him slowly, assessing. "You speak of equality, yet summon us to your realm, by your power. The imbalance is... problematic."
"An astute observation," Velber added, her mechanical voice somehow conveying skepticism. "Power dynamics suggest high probability of eventual servitude requirement."
Longxian nodded, acknowledging their concerns. Then, to the surprise of all gathered, he knelt—a single fluid motion that brought the Emperor of half the Celestial Heavens down on one knee before them.
"I do not ask what I would not give," he said, his voice still strong despite his deteriorating physical condition. "My pride is nothing compared to the survival of all realms. If you find me wanting, I will send you back without complaint. If you choose to stay, know that I will fight alongside you, not from behind you."
A profound silence fell over the Heart of Heaven. The gesture—genuine and unexpected from a being of such obvious power—carried more weight than any words could have.
It was Musashi who broke the silence, laughing brightly. "Well now, that's not something you see every day—an emperor with actual humility! I'm intrigued enough to stick around a while, at least until I see what kind of swordsman you are."
Artoria stepped forward, her armor gleaming with inner light. With a formal motion, she reversed her legendary sword and planted it point-down before Longxian.
"I recognize the burden you carry," she said formally. "For I have carried a similar one. The Once and Future King acknowledges your sovereignty and offers her sword in the coming war."
Durga was next, placing one of her divine weapons—a gleaming trident—on the ground beside Excalibur. "The demons of chaos must be opposed wherever they arise. I will lend my strength to your cause, Emperor Longxian."
Amaterasu approached, the light around her softening. "You have shown wisdom in recognizing your limitations and courage in facing them directly. The sun shall shine upon your endeavor—for a time, at least." A subtle warning in her final words, but acceptance nonetheless.
Nobunaga grinned, spinning one of her firearms casually before pointing it skyward. "Well, if we're destroying gods and monsters, count me in. Nothing more boring than peace, after all."
Uesugi Kenshin bowed formally. "The path of righteousness often requires sacrifice. I recognize this quality in you, Dragon Emperor."
One by one, the others made their decisions. Not all knelt—indeed, most did not—but each signaled acceptance in their own way.
Scáthach offered a slight nod. "I will observe and judge your worth further. But for now, consider my spear at your disposal."
Morgan le Fay's lips curved in a calculating smile. "Your empire sounds like an interesting game board. I shall play... for now."
BB twirled playfully. "A cosmic threat to all existence? How delightfully catastrophic! I suppose someone has to make sure you don't mess it up worse."
Velber's form shifted, becoming more stable as she reached a decision. "This unit will participate. Anti-existence threats align with primary directive."
Only Arcueid remained silent, studying Longxian with unreadable crimson eyes. Finally, she sighed. "I suppose someone needs to make sure the world doesn't end. It would be troublesome to find a new one."
Only when the last had indicated her decision did Longxian rise, his expression betraying momentary surprise that all eleven had chosen to stay—at least for now.
"The Dragon Empire welcomes you," he said formally, though his voice had grown noticeably weaker. "May our alliance bring salvation to all—"
His words cut off as his physical form finally succumbed to the strain of the ritual. Golden light erupted from the cracks in his flesh, his entire being seeming to collapse inward.
Amaterasu moved first, solar energy flowing from her hands to stabilize his fragmenting essence. "His life force remains strong, but his physical form cannot contain it after the strain of the summoning."
"Move aside," Morgan commanded, her staff already glowing with arcane power. "This requires more than mere healing."
"Agreed," BB chimed in, digital patterns flowing from her fingers as she approached. "This is a systemic failure, not a simple wound. His pattern is destabilizing at a fundamental level."
The three of them—goddess, witch queen, and digital entity—formed a triangle around the fallen emperor, each applying their unique powers to contain the metaphysical hemorrhaging.
"Interesting construction," BB murmured as she worked. "His cultivation system is unlike anything in my database. The dragon meridians are tied directly to his soul structure."
"A self-created system," Morgan observed. "No wonder it's collapsing under strain. The arrogance of creating one's own path."
"Not arrogance," Amaterasu corrected gently. "Necessity. I sense ancient choices in his essence—paths taken when no established road existed."
As the three worked, the others watched with varying degrees of concern and curiosity.
"Not the most auspicious beginning to an alliance," Nobunaga commented, though there was less mockery in her tone than might have been expected.
"On the contrary," Artoria replied. "It reveals much about his character. He knew the risk yet took it willingly for his empire's sake."
"Calculation or desperation?" Scáthach wondered aloud.
"Both," Uesugi Kenshin answered. "The mark of a true strategist is knowing when to risk everything on a single move."
After what seemed like hours but might have been mere moments in the warped time of the Heart of Heaven, Longxian's form stabilized. The golden cracks sealed, though his skin remained pale, the scales that had manifested during the ritual now permanent along his forearms and jawline.
His eyes opened—still golden with scarlet flecks, but now with slitted pupils like a dragon's.
"It seems I owe you my thanks," he said as he rose unsteadily to his feet, nodding to the three who had intervened.
"Consider it an investment," Morgan replied coolly. "A dead emperor would be of little use to our arrangement."
"What she means," BB translated with a playful smile, "is 'you're welcome!'"
As if responding to Longxian's recovery, the Heart of Heaven pulsed, cosmic energy swirling into a vortex that enveloped the twelve gathered beings. Reality shifted, transporting them from the metaphysical center to the physical heart of the empire—the Sovereign Spire from which Longxian ruled.
They materialized in the Grand Receiving Hall—a vast chamber whose ceiling opened directly into space, protected by fields of force that allowed the spectacular view while maintaining a perfect environment within.
Prime Minister Wei Shen, who had been anxiously awaiting his emperor's return, fell to his knees at the sight that greeted him. Not just his sovereign—visibly changed but alive—but eleven beings of such obvious power that even his immortal senses struggled to comprehend them.
"Rise, old friend," Longxian commanded, his voice stronger now though still bearing the echoes of his ordeal. "There is much to be done. Prepare quarters worthy of our honored allies. Summon the War Council. The Dragon Empire prepares not for retreat, but for advance."
As Wei Shen hurried to obey, bowing repeatedly as he backed away from the assembled legends, Longxian turned to face the eleven stars he had called from across reality.
"You will need time to acclimate to this realm," he acknowledged. "Rest. Explore. When you are ready, we shall begin planning in earnest."
The eleven dispersed, each responding to the dismissal in their own way. Some, like Artoria and Uesugi Kenshin, bowed formally before departing. Others, like Nobunaga and BB, simply wandered off with curious expressions, already examining their new surroundings. Arcueid vanished without a word, while Morgan gave Longxian one last assessing look before following a servant to her quarters.
Only Amaterasu remained, her divine presence somehow both overwhelming and soothing.
"The path you have chosen is dangerous," she said softly. "Not just for you, but for all existence. Bringing beings of our nature together... there will be conflicts."
"I know," Longxian admitted. "But the alternative was certain defeat."
"Perhaps." Her perfect features softened slightly. "Rest, Emperor of Dragons. Your strength will be needed in the days to come."
With that, she too departed, leaving Longxian alone in the vast hall. He looked up through the transparent ceiling at the endless cosmos beyond—his domain, his responsibility.
For the first time since he had witnessed the destruction of those distant star systems, Emperor Longxian felt something he had almost forgotten—hope.
The multiverse might yet survive.
But first, there would be the far more immediate challenge of managing eleven legendary beings, each with their own wills, agendas, and explosive temperaments.
He almost smiled at the thought.
---
## Chapter 2: Celestial Palace, Mortal Tensions
The Imperial Palace of the Dragon Sovereign was a living marvel. Rather than built from static materials, it had been grown over millennia—living crystal and sentient metal co ## Chapter 2: Celestial Palace, Mortal Tensions (continued)
The Imperial Palace of the Dragon Sovereign was a living marvel. Rather than built from static materials, it had been grown over millennia—living crystal and sentient metal coaxed into harmonious forms, creating a structure that was as much an ecosystem as it was a seat of power. Corridors shifted to accommodate the psychological needs of those walking them. Chambers expanded or contracted based on the discussions taking place within them. The entire complex was, in essence, an extension of Longxian's will made manifest.
It was within this living monument that the eleven summoned legends now found themselves, each exploring their new surroundings in characteristic fashion.
---
Amaterasu glided through the expansive gardens that surrounded the central palace, her bare feet hovering just above the luminous pathways. Solar energy radiated gently from her form, causing flowers of impossible beauty to bloom in her wake—species that had never existed before, born from the interaction between her divine essence and the qi-saturated soil of the Heaven-Dragon Spiral Realm.
She paused beside a reflecting pool where silver koi with scales like stardust swam in patterns that mirrored the constellations above. As she gazed into the water, she sensed a presence approaching.
"Your realm resonates with created life," she observed without turning as Longxian joined her beside the pool. His golden-scaled arms were now concealed beneath formal robes of crimson and black, though the dragon features on his face remained visible. "There is genuine artistry in how you've shaped it. Few conquerors bother with beauty."
"A realm reflects its ruler," Longxian responded, his deep voice carrying naturally despite his soft tone. "I have little interest in domination for its own sake. The worlds under my protection prosper."
Amaterasu turned to study him, divine perception allowing her to see the lingering damage from the summoning ritual beneath his composed exterior. "You are still recovering."
It wasn't a question, but Longxian answered regardless. "The empire cannot see its sovereign weakened. Especially now."
"There is wisdom in that," she acknowledged, then added with unexpected directness, "but there is folly in hiding weakness from allies who might aid in your recovery."
Before Longxian could respond, a high-pitched squeal of delight echoed across the garden, shattering the serene atmosphere. BB skipped along a nearby path, her fingers occasionally brushing against the living architecture, leaving traces of digital code that the palace absorbed and adapted to with visible curiosity.
"This place is absolutely primitive but fascinating!" she announced, twirling to face them. "Only about seven thousand layers of reality instead of the standard infinite recursion. I could optimize this for you, you know. Just a teensy bit of Moon Cell restructuring~"
From another path emerged Morgan le Fay, her elegant movements a stark contrast to BB's energetic bouncing. The witch queen's eyes narrowed at the digital entity's words.
"Perhaps refrain from 'optimizing' our new accommodations until invited," she suggested coolly. "Some of us prefer our reality uncompromised by digital corruption."
BB's smile remained fixed, but a dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. "Says the witch queen who rewrote Britain from the ground up? That's rich coming from you, Your Frosty Majesty."
The temperature in the garden dropped several degrees as Morgan's power responded to her irritation. Frost began to form on the edges of the reflecting pool.
"Ladies," Longxian intervened smoothly, his dragon authority subtly asserting itself in his tone, "each of you brings unique perspectives on reality manipulation. I hope to learn from all approaches, given time—provided they don't destroy what I've spent five million years building."
The diplomatic response drew an appreciative nod from Amaterasu and a childish pout from BB. Morgan's expression remained neutral, but the frost receded from the pond.
"Five million years," Morgan repeated thoughtfully. "A considerable investment of time. What were you before you became... this?" Her gesture encompassed not just his person, but the vast empire beyond.
The question carried weight—not mere curiosity, but an assessment. Longxian recognized it for what it was: a test of his honesty, his self-awareness, his willingness to reveal vulnerability.
"A cultivator," he answered simply. "Orphaned during the Primal Star Wars. I climbed from mortal to immortal over ten thousand years of study and battle. Then from minor immortal to sovereign over another million. The rest has been expansion, refinement, and defense against threats that grow ever stranger."
"A self-made emperor," Morgan observed, something like respect flickering in her eyes. "How refreshingly unusual."
"All empires begin with someone who refused to accept the world as it was," Longxian responded. "I suspect you understand this better than most, Queen of Avalon."
Morgan's lips curved in the ghost of a smile. "Perhaps."
Their conversation was interrupted as Artoria approached, her formal armor replaced by more practical attire that nonetheless maintained a regal quality. She walked with military precision, taking in every detail of the gardens with tactical awareness.
"Your palace is well-defended," she observed to Longxian, "yet the defensive formations are beautifully integrated into the aesthetics. I've spent the morning mapping potential fallback positions and emergency routes. Your architects thought like warriors."
"I was the architect," Longxian replied. "And yes, I think like a warrior because I've never known true peace. None of my kind has."
Artoria's eyebrows rose slightly. "You designed this entire complex?"
"I grew it," he corrected. "Working with the living materials, guiding rather than imposing. It took three hundred thousand years to reach its current form."
"And it's still evolving," BB interjected, finger tracing a pattern on a nearby crystal column. "I can feel it adapting to our presence already. Quite the intimate relationship you have with your home, Emperor Dragon~"
Before Longxian could respond to her suggestive tone, Nobunaga's distinctive laughter rang out as she sauntered into view, hands clasped behind her head in casual disregard for protocol.
"Inspecting the defenses already, King of Knights?" she called to Artoria. "Always the dutiful one. I've spent my morning finding all the best places to set things on fire if we need a quick distraction."
Artoria's expression tightened. "I would prefer if you consulted the war council before plotting incendiary strategies within our host's home."
"Where's the fun in that?" Nobunaga grinned, her red eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, your Round Table was positively harmonious compared to the warlord alliances I juggled. A little creative chaos keeps everyone sharp."
"Perhaps save that creativity for our enemies," suggested Longxian, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone rather than censure.
Nobunaga turned her full attention to him, studying him with newfound interest. "You know, for an all-powerful emperor, you're surprisingly tolerant. Most rulers I've known would have already tried to assert dominance over such a potentially disruptive gathering."
"Most rulers haven't lived five million years," Longxian replied. "Tolerance is a lesson hard-earned through countless failures."
"Failures?" Amaterasu inquired, genuine curiosity in her voice. "I would not have expected you to admit to such."
"Only fools and gods claim perfection," Longxian said, then winced slightly as he realized his potential faux pas. "No offense intended, Radiant One."
To his surprise, Amaterasu laughed—a sound like crystal wind chimes in a summer breeze. "None taken. The wisest of us gods are well aware of our imperfections, Emperor of Dragons."
The atmosphere lightened momentarily, only to shift again as Scáthach emerged from a shadowed pathway that hadn't existed moments before. The immortal witch had been silently observing the palace for hours, her presence so perfectly concealed that even Longxian had lost track of her movements.
"Neither of your political situations compares to the cosmic scale we now face," she said, smoothly entering the conversation as if she had been part of it all along. "Traditional governance models may prove inadequate."
"Meaning?" prompted Artoria.
"Meaning that eleven legends from different worlds, with different values and priorities, cannot be managed like courtiers or soldiers," Scáthach elaborated. "Our alliance is necessary but fragile. It will require... accommodations."
Morgan raised an elegant eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we establish formal protocols for our cooperation? How disappointingly bureaucratic."
"I suggest nothing," Scáthach replied coolly. "I merely observe the inevitable friction that will arise without some form of structure."
Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Wei Shen, who approached with a formal bow.
"Your Majesty, honored guests," the Prime Minister greeted them. "The War Council has assembled in the Grand Hall. The first reports from the Sable Nebula frontier have arrived."
Longxian's expression turned grave. "Then we shall continue this discussion later. Duty calls."
---
The Grand Receiving Hall had been transformed. The vast open space now contained a three-dimensional map of the known universe, projected through a combination of qi manipulation and what appeared to be technomancy. Star systems glowed with varying intensities, connected by lines of force that represented trade routes, defensive formations, and dimensional pathways.
The assembled officials of the Dragon Empire—immortal cultivators who had served Longxian for millennia—stood in a rough semicircle around the display. They bowed as one when their emperor entered, followed by the eleven summoned legends.
"Rise," Longxian commanded, taking his position at the head of the gathering. "What news from the frontier?"
General Zhao Feng, commander of the Divine Spire Guard who had accompanied Longxian to the Heart of Heaven, stepped forward. Unlike many of the court officials who wore flowing robes and ceremonial armor, Zhao was clad in practical battle gear, his face bearing fresh scars that hadn't yet been healed by qi techniques.
"Three more star systems lost, Your Majesty," he reported grimly. "The Void Parasites struck simultaneously across a seventy-light-year front. Our defensive formations held initially, but then..." He hesitated, concern evident in his immortal eyes.
"Speak freely, General. Our guests must know the full extent of the threat."
"The parasites deployed a new tactic," Zhao continued. "They targeted our realm anchors—the metaphysical constructs that maintain the stability of cultivated space. Once those fell, reality itself began to unravel. We had no choice but to conduct a fighting retreat to preserve our forces."
"Casualties?" Longxian's voice remained steady, but those nearest to him could sense the tension beneath.
"Seventeen thousand immortal cultivators confirmed lost. Perhaps twice that number unaccounted for. Mortal populations..." The general's voice faltered. "Complete loss, Your Majesty. We couldn't evacuate in time."
A heavy silence fell over the hall. Even Nobunaga's usual smirk had faded, her expression uncharacteristically solemn.
Durga stepped forward, her multiple arms now adorned with golden armor rather than weapons—though all present knew she could manifest her divine arsenal in an instant if needed.
"Show me these realm anchors," she requested. "In my battles against demonic forces, I have encountered similar metaphysical constructs."
Zhao Feng nodded, manipulating the display to focus on a single star system. At its center floated a massive crystal structure, shaped like a lotus with a thousand petals. Cosmic energy flowed through it in complex patterns, stabilizing the surrounding space.
"Interesting," Velber commented, her mechanical gaze analyzing the structure. "Conceptual stabilization matrix. Similar to theoretical constructs in my database."
"These anchors," Longxian explained for the benefit of those unfamiliar with his realm's mechanics, "are what allow us to maintain stable cultivation environments across vast distances. Without them, the natural laws of the universe reassert themselves—making mass cultivation impossible and weakening all who rely on qi."
Arcueid, who had remained silent until now, suddenly laughed—a sound both beautiful and chilling. "So they're attacking your infrastructure rather than your forces directly. Smart parasites."
"Indeed," agreed Artoria, studying the display with a tactician's eye. "A classic strategy—target logistical foundations before engaging the main force."
Musashi whistled, spinning one of her blades idly. "Pretty sophisticated for mindless cosmic horrors."
"That's just it," Zhao Feng said grimly. "They've never shown this level of strategic coordination before. It's as if... as if they're being directed."
BB skipped forward, digital patterns flowing across her skin as she interfaced directly with the display. "Ooh, plot twist! Mindless cosmic horrors with a puppet master. How intriguing~"
"It confirms our suspicions," Longxian noted, his expression darkening. "Some greater intelligence is coordinating our enemies, using each faction against the others, and all against our empire."
Morgan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "A master strategist hiding in the shadows. The true question is—what do they gain from this conflict?"
Before anyone could respond, the hall's entrance burst open. A messenger rushed in, his face pale with urgency.
"Your Majesty!" he called, dropping to his knees so quickly he nearly slid across the crystal floor. "An emergency transmission from the Qingjian Xuanyu realm! They're under attack!"
"The Clear Sword Suspended Domain?" Wei Shen's normally composed façade cracked with shock. "But that's in the inner territories—over thirty thousand light-years from the frontier!"
Longxian's reaction was immediate. "Show me."
The messenger activated a communication crystal, and a projection appeared above the war table—a woman with ethereal beauty, her face streaked with blood, her eyes burning with battle-fury.
"Emperor Longxian," she spoke, her voice remarkably calm despite the chaos visible behind her. "The Sword Realm is under attack by unknown entities. They emerged from what appeared to be a dimensional tear in the Crystal Sky Cathedral. Our defenses are holding for now, but—"
The transmission shuddered as an explosion rocked her location.
"Sword Mistress Yu Lianxue," Longxian addressed her, recognition and concern evident in his voice. "What manner of entities attack you?"
"Like nothing we've encountered," she replied, raising her hand to reveal a slender sword that had never left its sheath. "They consume qi itself, growing stronger with every technique we use against them. I've ordered my disciples to fight with pure physical skill, but we cannot hold indefinitely."
Musashi stepped forward, her usual carefree demeanor replaced by serious focus. "Qi-draining enemies? That's my specialty." She looked to Longxian. "Point me at this sword realm, and I'll show them what happens when they face a blade that exists in multiple realities simultaneously."
"I shall accompany her," Scáthach said, red eyes gleaming with battle-lust awakened by the prospect of worthy combat. "These creatures sound... educational."
Longxian nodded decisively. "Prepare the Imperial Teleportation Array. Musashi, Scáthach—you have my authority to act as my direct representatives. Yu Lianxue is one of my most trusted allies; her realm must not fall."
As servants rushed to prepare for their departure, Artoria approached Longxian. "A strike this deep into your territory suggests intelligence gathering has failed. Your enemies know more about your defenses than you realized."
"Or they have capabilities we haven't accounted for," he acknowledged grimly. "Which is precisely why I summoned you all."
Musashi grinned, twirling her blades with anticipation. "Well, they're about to learn something new about us too. Ready, Queen of Shadows?"
Scáthach's lips curved in a predatory smile. "Always, Sword Saint."
As the two warriors departed for the teleportation chamber, Longxian turned back to the war council. "This changes everything. The enemy is no longer confined to predictable fronts. We must accelerate our preparations."
The grim reality settled over the assembled legends: the war they had been summoned to fight hadn't been approaching in the distance. It had already begun.
---
## Chapter 3: The Crystal Blade Realm
The Imperial Teleportation Array was a marvel of cultivation engineering—a massive circular platform inscribed with runes that shifted and moved like living things, surrounded by nine towering pillars that hummed with power drawn directly from the Heart of Heaven. Unlike crude magical transportation, this system worked by temporarily folding space itself, allowing instantaneous travel anywhere within the Dragon Empire's vast territories.
Musashi whistled appreciatively as she and Scáthach were led onto the platform by robed attendants. "Now this is traveling in style! Beats walking between worlds."
Scáthach remained silent, her crimson eyes studying the array's construction with academic interest. After millennia in Dun Scaith, few marvels truly impressed her, but she acknowledged the elegant integration of martial principles into the transportation matrix.
The lead operator—an ancient immortal with skin like polished jade—bowed deeply to them. "Honored envoys of His Imperial Majesty, the coordinates for Qingjian Xuanyu have been set. The journey will be instantaneous, but first-time travelers occasionally experience momentary disorientation."
"We'll manage," Musashi replied with a confident grin. "Won't we, Teacher of Heroes?"
Scáthach merely inclined her head slightly, neither confirming nor denying that the prospect of interdimensional teleportation concerned her in the slightest.
The operator raised his hands, channeling qi into the array. The runes began to glow with increasing intensity, the air above the platform shimmering like heat over desert sands.
"Destination locked," he intoned formally. "Qingjian Xuanyu, main fortress, eastern courtyard. Transfer initiating in three... two... one..."
Reality folded.
For a heartbeat that seemed to last an eternity, Musashi and Scáthach existed everywhere and nowhere, their beings stretched across the cosmos before snapping back into solidity.
They materialized in the midst of chaos.
The Qingjian Xuanyu—the Clear Sword Suspended Domain—was a realm of breathtaking beauty even in the midst of battle. Crystalline cliffs soared above them, suspended impossibly in the silver sky. The very air hummed with sword qi, creating a constant ringing melody that shifted with the emotions of those inhabiting the realm.
Currently, that melody was a discordant battle hymn.
All around them, disciples of the sword sect fought against shapeless entities that seemed to be made of living shadow—vaguely humanoid forms that flickered and distorted as they moved, absorbing the sword qi that the cultivators instinctively channeled into their attacks.
"Well," Musashi said cheerfully, drawing her twin blades, "no need for introductions, I suppose."
She launched herself toward the nearest cluster of shadow entities, her swords tracing perfect arcs through the air. Where the sect disciples' qi-enhanced attacks had been absorbed, Musashi's blades—existing in multiple planes simultaneously—cut through the entities like paper. Three dissolved into nothingness before the others could react to her presence.
Not to be outdone, Scáthach summoned her crimson spear Gáe Bolg, the weapon thrumming with ancient power that predated the concept of qi itself. With movements too fast for even immortal eyes to follow, she impaled five entities in rapid succession, their shadowy forms dissipating with unearthly screams.
A tall woman landed beside them, her movements possessing an ethereal grace that made even combat seem like a choreographed dance. Yu Lianxue, the Sword Mistress of Qingjian Xuanyu, acknowledged them with a slight nod, her sheathed blade deflecting attacks without ever being drawn.
"The Emperor sends his finest," she observed, her voice melodious despite the grim situation. "I am honored."
"Save the formalities for after we clean up this mess," Musashi suggested, beheading another shadow creature. "Any idea where they're coming from?"
Yu Lianxue gestured toward a massive structure floating at the center of the realm—a cathedral-like building constructed entirely of crystal that captured and refracted the silver light of the sky. At its heart, visible even from a distance, a dark tear hung in the air—a rent in reality from which more shadow entities continuously emerged.
"The Crystal Sky Cathedral," the Sword Mistress explained. "Our most sacred site, desecrated by these... things. They emerged without warning two hours ago. We've contained them thus far, but they grow stronger with each passing moment."
Scáthach narrowed her eyes, studying the distant rift. "A dimensional anchor point. Someone has forcibly connected your realm to another."
"Can you close it?" Yu Lianxue asked, deflecting three attacks simultaneously without seeming to move.
"Perhaps," Scáthach replied. "But first, we must stem the tide. These creatures are scouts, not the main force."
As if confirming her words, a tremor passed through the realm. The crystal cliffs resonated with increasing intensity, the sound shifting from melodic to painfully discordant. The tear at the cathedral's heart pulsed and widened.
"That doesn't look good," Musashi observed, sheathing one sword to shade her eyes as she peered at the rift. "I think something bigger is coming through."
"Evacuate your disciples," Scáthach commanded Yu Lianxue. "Get them clear of the cathedral."
The Sword Mistress hesitated, pride warring with tactical sense. "This is our sacred site—"
"And it will become your tomb if that is what I think it is," Scáthach cut her off. "I have seen this before. The small ones are merely forerunners."
Reluctantly, Yu Lianxue nodded and raised her sheathed sword high. It gleamed with internal light, sending a signal visible throughout the realm. Immediately, the sect disciples began an organized fighting retreat, disengaging from the shadow entities and falling back toward the crystal cliffs.
"Now," Scáthach said to Musashi, "we go hunting."
The two legendary warriors made their way toward the cathedral, cutting through scores of shadow entities that seemed increasingly frantic in their attempts to stop them. Where Scáthach was precise and economical in her movements, Musashi was flamboyant and unpredictable—their contrasting styles creating a deadly harmony.
As they approached the massive crystal doors of the cathedral, Musashi glanced at her companion. "Betting pool: what comes through that rift? I'm guessing either a tentacled horror or a dragon made of shadows."
"This is not a game," Scáthach chided, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "But if it were... I would wager on a conceptual entity—a being made from the idea of consumption itself."
"Boring but probably accurate," Musashi conceded as they reached the entrance. "Ready?"
Scáthach nodded, and together they pushed open the crystal doors.
The interior of the cathedral was a marvel of cultivation architecture. The walls, floor, and ceiling were formed from a single continuous crystal that captured and amplified sword qi, creating a sacred space where cultivation breakthroughs happened with remarkable frequency. Thousands of swords hung suspended in the air, forming concentric circles around a central dais where masters would traditionally meditate.
Now, however, that dais held something else entirely—a pulsating tear in reality, its edges jagged and leaking a substance that was neither liquid nor gas but something more fundamental. And emerging from that tear was...
"Huh," Musashi said, genuinely surprised. "Neither of us was right."
The entity pulling itself through the rift had a vaguely feminine form, but that was where any resemblance to humanity ended. Its body seemed to be composed of thousands of interlocking cultivation techniques given physical form—qi patterns, spell matrices, and martial arts stances woven together into a grotesque whole. As it moved, these techniques writhed and shifted, occasionally breaking free to attack independently before being reabsorbed.
"A Dao Thief," Scáthach identified it, her expression grim. "It consumes cultivation methods and uses them against their creators."
The creature's head—a shifting mass of theoretical qi diagrams—turned toward them. It had no eyes, but they could feel its attention focusing on them like a physical weight.
"Techniiiiiques," it hissed, its voice a discordant blend of countless stolen cultivation mantras. "Neeeew techniques. Strooooong techniques."
Musashi twirled her swords casually, though her stance betrayed her readiness for battle. "Sorry, my techniques aren't for sharing. Especially not with ugly dimension-hopping qi vampires."
The Dao Thief let out a screech that shattered several of the floating swords, sending crystalline shards raining down around the cathedral. It lunged forward with impossible speed, its limbs elongating and shifting into weapons borrowed from a hundred different martial traditions.
Scáthach met the charge head-on, her spear a crimson blur as she deflected the creature's attacks. "It's analyzing our movements," she called to Musashi. "Don't fall into predictable patterns!"
"When have I ever been predictable?" Musashi laughed, leaping high into the air and coming down with a spinning attack that sliced through several of the creature's secondary limbs.
The severed appendages dissolved into qi formations that quickly dissipated, but the Dao Thief seemed unfazed by the loss. If anything, it grew more focused, its attacks becoming more coordinated as it adapted to their fighting styles.
"Deliciooooous," it crooned as it absorbed a glancing blow from Scáthach's spear. "The death goddess's technique. Ancient. Perfect."
Scáthach's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You understand nothing of my techniques."
She thrust Gáe Bolg forward, activating its true nature—the spear that reversed causality, striking the heart before it was even thrust. But to her shock, the Dao Thief twisted in a way that should have been physically impossible, the conceptual attack missing its non-existent heart.
"I understand aaaaaaall," the creature gloated. "I consume. I become. Soon, I will have your techniques too, death goddess."
Musashi circled around, looking for an opening. "It's adapting too quickly. We need to end this fast!"
"The rift," Scáthach replied, deflecting another barrage of attacks. "If we close it, the creature will be cut off from its source of power."
"Great plan! Slight problem—we're a bit busy staying alive at the moment!"
As if in answer to their dilemma, a new presence entered the cathedral. Yu Lianxue glided in, her unsheathed sword still in its scabbard, her expression serene despite the chaos around her.
"Honored envoys of the Dragon Emperor," she called, her voice cutting through the noise of battle with perfect clarity. "Allow me to assist."
Without waiting for a response, she moved to the center of the cathedral, taking up a position directly opposite the rift from the Dao Thief. With graceful precision, she began a complex sword form—all without ever drawing her blade.
"What is she doing?" Musashi wondered aloud, deflecting another attack from the increasingly frantic creature.
"A sealing technique," Scáthach realized. "She's using the cathedral's own sword qi network."
Indeed, the thousands of swords suspended throughout the cathedral had begun to resonate in harmony with Yu Lianxue's movements. The discordant battle melody shifted, becoming a single pure note that grew in intensity with each passing second.
The Dao Thief shrieked, suddenly ignoring Musashi and Scáthach in favor of attacking Yu Lianxue. "No! The realm core! You cannot!"
"Now!" Scáthach called to Musashi. "While it's distracted!"
Together, they launched a coordinated assault on the creature's back. Musashi's swords cut through dimensions, severing the Dao Thief's connection to the techniques it had stolen, while Scáthach's spear pierced what passed for its central mass, pinning it in place.
Yu Lianxue's sword form reached its crescendo. The floating swords throughout the cathedral aligned perfectly, creating a massive array that focused on the dimensional rift. With a single perfect motion—still without drawing her blade—the Sword Mistress completed the technique.
The swords shot forward in unison, not toward the Dao Thief, but toward the rift itself. They formed a spinning vortex that matched the tear's dimensions exactly, forcing it closed through sheer metaphysical pressure.
"Noooooooo!" the creature wailed as its connection to whatever lay beyond the rift was severed. It began to collapse in on itself, the stolen techniques unraveling without the sustaining power of the dimensional tear.
Musashi didn't waste the opportunity. With a final decisive strike, she cleaved what remained of the Dao Thief in two, her blades glowing with the pure essence of sword mastery untainted by qi manipulation.
The creature dissolved into a shower of fractured qi patterns that quickly dissipated into nothingness.
Silence fell over the cathedral, broken only by the fading resonance of the floating swords as they gradually returned to their original positions.
"Well," Musashi said cheerfully, sheathing her blades, "that was invigorating! I haven't had a good fight since... actually, since yesterday when we all nearly killed each other getting summoned."
Scáthach approached Yu Lianxue, who had finally lowered her still-sheathed sword. "An impressive technique. To seal a dimensional rift without drawing your blade... few sword masters could accomplish such a feat."
The Sword Mistress bowed slightly. "The Emperor values those who can achieve victory through restraint rather than brute force. I have spent three thousand years perfecting the art of the undrawn blade."
"Speaking of His Scaly Majesty," Musashi interjected, "we should probably report back. That was no random attack—someone targeted this realm specifically."
Yu Lianxue's expression darkened. "The Crystal Sky Cathedral is built at a nexus point of sword intent. If our enemies can breach such a place at will..."
"Then nowhere in the empire is truly safe," Scáthach finished for her. "A troubling development indeed."
---
When they returned to the Imperial Palace several hours later, after helping secure the Sword Realm against potential further incursions, they found the palace in a state of controlled chaos. Messengers rushed through corridors that seemed to reshape themselves to speed their passage. Officers of the Imperial Flame Armada congregated in the outer courtyards, their discussions hushed but intense.
They were met in the Grand Receiving Hall by an unexpected welcoming committee: Arcueid, Velber, and BB clustered around a modified version of the war table they had seen earlier.
"Welcome back, sword-swingers!" BB greeted them cheerfully. "Had fun playing hero while we did the actual important work?"
Musashi raised an eyebrow. "And what 'actual important work' would that be?"
"Analysis," Velber answered in her mechanical tone. "Pattern recognition. Strategic correlation of seventeen simultaneous attacks across the empire."
"Seventeen?" Scáthach's normally impassive expression showed genuine surprise. "All at nexus points like the Sword Realm?"
Arcueid nodded, her crimson eyes gleaming with predatory interest. "Each one carefully selected for maximum symbolic and strategic impact. Someone's sending a message."
"Where is the Emperor?" Musashi asked, looking around for Longxian's imposing figure.
"War council," BB replied, digital patterns flowing across her skin as she manipulated the display before them. "With Artoria, Durga, and Morgan. They're coordinating the empire's response. Nobunaga and Amaterasu are inspecting the defense grid, and Uesugi Kenshin is meditating or something boring like that."
Scáthach approached the display, studying the pattern of attacks. "These aren't random strikes. They form a specific configuration—a ritual circle of some kind."
"Gold star for the death goddess!" BB clapped her hands. "That's exactly what we figured out while you two were playing with shadows."
"Not just any ritual," Arcueid added, her casual tone belying the seriousness of her words. "It's a conceptual invasion protocol. They're testing the metaphysical boundaries of this reality, looking for weak points in the fundamental structure."
"In normal-person speak," Musashi translated for herself, "they're poking the world to see where it's soft before they go for the kill."
"Crude but accurate," Velber confirmed.
The doors to the inner council chamber opened, and Emperor Longxian emerged, followed by Artoria, Durga, and Morgan. The Dragon Sovereign looked weary but resolute, the scales along his jawline gleaming with inner light that reflected his emotional state.
His golden eyes found Musashi and Scáthach immediately. "Report."
The two warriors described the attack on the Sword Realm and their encounter with the Dao Thief, while Longxian listened with intense focus, occasionally asking clarifying questions about the creature's abilities or the nature of the dimensional rift.
"A coordinated probing action," he concluded when they had finished. "Consistent with the other attacks."
"But why target cultivation nexus points specifically?" Musashi wondered. "If I were planning an invasion, I'd go after military targets or population centers."
"Because this isn't about territory," Morgan interjected, her cold beauty made more severe by the gravity of the situation. "It's about metaphysical dominance. These enemies don't just want to conquer the Dragon Empire—they want to rewrite its underlying principles."
"The witch queen is correct," Durga agreed, her multiple arms now bearing full divine weaponry. "These are the tactics of cosmic-scale predators. They seek to unmake your cultivation society before consuming its essence."
Longxian's expression hardened, dragon features becoming more pronounced as his emotions intensified. "Then we