Chapter 2026 - 256 - 263

Chapter 256: Paragon Status

All the stores along Skyfire Avenue were open. They're doors were open wide, and their wares on display for all to see as proprietors stood by. They nodded and gave their regards as the welcoming party passed. Still, there was a solemnity that hung heavy the air.

As the councilors reached the end of the Avenue, dots appeared on the horizon. A motorcade of vert-cars approached.

They were separated in to two processions; one set of gold vehicles, and one set of black. They flew in tight formation as they closed upon Skyfire Avenue.

Their approach was slow, and when they finally drew within fifty meters of the Avenue they descended, and came to a stop.

The luxurious vehicles settled, and their doors opens. Several figures exited.

The Wine Master stood at the head of the procession, watching with calm expression. He made no move to greet them.

Lan Jue was not far behind. His eyes were hard, and a cold light shone in their depths as he saw the golden cars open and their passengers emerge.

There were a few familiar faces from the procession. Rafael, their Archangel of Healing, was among them. The Cherub Uriel was also present, along with the Messenger of Death Gabriel. Three of the Pontiff's six Archangels spread out as they exited their vehicles, and waited.

From the middle of the motorcade, a middle-aged man emerged. He was tall, and muscular, with a handsome bearing. He was surrounded by an aura of shimmering golden light.

As he exited the car, this dazzling man, too, stepped to one side. Another figure made its presence known, this one considerably older and more fragile.

He was clad in a magnificent white robe, embroidered with golden thread. A crown rested on his head, and his frail hand gripped a dazzling scepter. Once he was free of the car, every member of the Pontiff's clergy bowed deep in respect.

The elderly man looked like any normal gentleman – just a man in the winter of his life. However, the look in his eyes was anything but average. His sight was clear, and cutting, as though he saw and knew all. He was followed by an indistinct choir of angelic voices, just barely audible. The area around his head appeared brighter than its surroundings.

Opposite the golden motorcade was its mirror, black as pitch. The dark cars also parked, and from within exited a series of equally inky figures.

Their clothing was a motley array of blacks and crimsons and moss greens. The aura that surrounded them filled the area with a sense of darkness, in direct contrast with the bright light of the Pontiff's entourage.

The first to make their presence known was an enormous and powerful man with silvery-grey hair. His eyes were a bright, sickly yellow with vertical pupils. His black clothing was stretched taught over his intensely muscular frame, and looked as though it might split at the seams any moment.

Immediately after his appearance, another figure exited from the car. This one was a woman, with an alluring and enchanting figure. She wore a pine green gown, and a flowing cloak that hid her face from view. She was voluptuous and tall, perhaps even reaching two meters. She, too, bore a scepter in her delicate hand.

It was a curious object in and of itself, fashioned in the likeness of a serpent. A forked tongue stretched from it's carved face, while two eyes of crushed emeralds twinkled in the dim light. Compared to untamed menace of the large man who'd come before her, she seemed far more sinister.

The next to exit the dark vehicles was a tall, thin man. He was exquisitely dressed in a fine tuxedo, blood red, with a black tie and white shirt. His dark hair was slicked back and oiled so that the light reflected off of it, contrasting against a pale white face. His eyes were a pale red, but despite their appearance were handsome and gentlemanly.

Like their golden counterparts, these three also moved to one side and waited silent as the grave. The next to exit did so from the motorcades middle car.

He was an attractive man, easily a match for the on who'd come second to last on the Pontiff's side. Flowing robes, black as the depths of night, covered him. Dark crimson lines were threaded to it, swirling around each other to form numerous patterns.

Strangest was the fact that his eyes were entirely black; two orbs of darkness in a pale face. Peering in to them was like staring in to abyss, like losing your soul.

After exiting the car he, too, took two steps to the side. The car's final occupant stepped out.

He was young, and of average build. Compared to the others who appeared before him, the man was largely inconspicuous. He wore a gown the color of tarnished brass, and appeared largely normal in comparison to the others. Red hair, normal eyes clearly separated in black and white… but if you looked closely, his pupils were the same unsettling black as the other man's.

As he exited the vehicle, the world around him was visibly darker. The sun seemed dimmer, and the air dropped several degrees.

The young man in black, and the old man in white, exchanged a long look. One was warm, the other ice cold.

Neither spoke and, surrounded by their soldiers, approached Skyfire Avenue. Their gait was easy, their pace almost practiced, and the others fell in behind like it had been one a million times – in utter silence.

Finally, the Wine Master took a few steps forward until he reached the border of the Avenue. His eyes remained calm, impassive. Once the two contrasting groups drew near, they stopped.

"It's been quite a long time," the Wine Master greeted them.

The black eyes youth was first to speak. Strangely, his voice sounded much older than he appeared. "Indeed it has… Ages. And yet only you come to greet us. It's surprising that the presence of myself and this old zealot still isn't enough to inspire all three of you old fellows to come say hello."

The Wine Master didn't react to the younger man's complaint. He replied in soft, even tones. "The Clairvoyant waits for both of our illustrious guests in the Museum."

The older man smiled pleasantly. "Thank you for taking the trouble."

The Wine Master retreated one step to the side, and motioned them towards the avenue with a sweeping gesture. "Please." He refused to address them by name, as he knew their contentious nature.

Undoubtedly, the older man was the Pontiff himself. That would make the second man, the one with the younger face, the master of the Dark Citadel – Satan.

The two citadels had never known an era of peace. Each was the others' greatest threat. However, they both were still part of the same Western Alliance.

Lan Jue stood now beside the Cosmagus, and sure enough every one of the Pontiff's Archangels had their eyes on him. None of them looked pleased.

The Archangel Michael's absence didn't go unnoticed, and spoke to the poor state of his health. Lan Jue acted as though nothing were amiss, under their intense stares. How could this not rankle them?

The resplendent and handsome gentlemen stood at the forefront of the Archangels. This one had to be second in command of the Pontiff's forces – The Lord of Archangels, Metatron.

He shot Lan Jue a look, his eyes full of interest, sizing him up. With a small smile on his face, he nodded politely to the Jewelry Master.

Lan Jue, courteous as ever, returned the smile.

As they slowly made their way down the Avenue, the Pontiff idly spoke through a smile. "Ah, it's been a very long time since last I visited. Wine Master… that's how I am to refer to you, yes?"

The Paragon nodded. "One of several ways to describe me, I suppose."

"This is true," Satan responded in a chilly voice. "I call this one the old zealot. The two o us have been trying to murder one another for years innumerable, but couldn't help but visit together his time. I heard the Arcane Magnate recently made a visit to your Citadel, Pontiff. I'm honestly surprised he didn't reduce it to rubble."

His words caused a cascade of angry glances from the Pontiff's followers. Satan's own coterie glared right back.

The Pontiff simply raised his scepter, ever so slightly. His angels fell in line.

"Let's leave our problems in the Western Alliance, Satan. We shouldn't burden our hosts with it, "the Pontiff sagely instructed.

Satan responded with a hearty laugh. "Zealot seems inappropriate these days, yes? I should call you general."

The Wine Master walked slowly on the Pontiff's other side. He never spoke a word as the two powerful men bickered, knowing that their barbs were very unlikely to result in a showdown just this moment. Where that a risk, the two wouldn't have come together to Skyfire Avenue.

The giant doors of Skyfire Museum were open wide to receive its guests. Eight young people in spotless white robes stood at either side. Standing in the center of the portal, was the Clairvoyant himself clad in all his regalia. His own white robes shone brilliantly with every errant beam of light, as they danced and refracted off of the multitude of gems sewn upon it. His face bore an easy smile.

Upon seeing him before them, both the Pontiff and Satan couldn't hide the awe and respect they held for the man.

There were seven Paragons in all the Three Alliances. Among all seven, the greatest of their number stood before them now.

The Paragons all had titles by which they were known; the Cosmagus, Arcane Magistrate, and so forth. The Clairvoyant was no exception. Among the greatest adepts in the world, he was known as the Eye of Tomorrow.

In truth they were ten Paragons that were known, though who the top two were often discounted. The Eye of Tomorrow was third of all the cosmos' Paragons.

The fourth and fifth of their rank were denizens of the Northern Alliance. They, too, were masters of the Adept organization there – the Great Conclave.

The Pontiff was sixth in line. He was called the Hand of God.

Satan was seventh, and people called him the King of the Abyss.

The Arcane Magistrate was eighth, known to the residents of Skyfire as the Keeper.

The Wine Master – the Cosmagus – was ninth.

At last there was the tenth Paragon. He had also made his presence known on the Avenue once, when he attempted to assassinate Lan Qing. The Astral Phantom. He bore no alliance but to himself, and was lauded – and feared – as the greatest living assassin.

Each of the Paragons were master of their sphere of influence, and each was different. However, the rankings were universally accepted and adhered to.

Both the Pontiff and Satan, therefore, knew very well that the ancient man before them had power enough to obliterate both of them. He was among the greatest Adepts ever to have lived.

"It's been a very long time, my old friends," the Clairvoyant said.

The Pontiff offered a rare display of respect, and nodded. "It has indeed, Your Majesty."

Satan nodded also, his face a frigid and haughty mask. But something else was hidden in the depths of those unsettling eyes.

"Please, enter." The Clairvoyant turned his back, and stepped through the doorway in to the Museum. The Pontiff, Satan, and Cosmagus were directly behind. Everyone else lined up to follow.

Chapter 257: The Clairvoyant's Farewell

Half of the strongest Adepts known to man, gathered in one place. Under such circumstances, even a meeting of the Eastern parliament wouldn't register as important. The fact was, that even the parliament wouldn't be privy to what was to be discussed among the great Paragons – they would be reduced to begging for scraps of news. This was the world of the Adepts, and normal man held no power here.

The Clairvoyant walked slowly down the vaulted hallways of the Museum, and even the impetuous Satan didn't dare rush him. The young-looking king of devils never once let his eyes stray from the fortune teller's back.

A long table had been set up in the main hall, with enough space for fifty to sit in council. The Clairvoyant, naturally, took his position at the head. The Pontiff and Satan sat to his left and right respectively. The Wine Master sat at the next position down from the Pontiff, and the gourmet beside Satan.

As the Gourmet was taking his seat, Satan eyed him in curiosity. His look curdled, fixing upon the Gourmet with a dangerous light. The perennial chef didn't appear to notice, or chose not to pay any mind. It was as though everything occurring around him had no interest with him. Uncertainty and violence roiled in the depths of Satan's eyes, but it was short lived. A moment later, and it was as though nothing had happened.

The other gathered Adepts separated and sat according to their camp and designation. Metatron sat beside the Wine Master, while the imposing man with pure black eyes took up post beside the Gourmet.

Lan Jue sat nearer to the rear of the large table. He watched the others, paying especially close attention to the black-eyed man. He knew that he must be the Dark Citadel's second-in-command – the Fallen Angel, Lucifer. The rumors held that, as his name suggests, Lucifer was once a member of the Pontiff's coterie. The hatred the Pontiff's men held for Lucifer, especially the Archangels, surpassed even their loathing for Satan himself.

Once everyone was settled, the Clairvoyant addressed them with a smile. "Skyfire Avenue is honored by the presence of the two great Citadels, who have come together to call upon us. It brings me great joy to see you both again, as I near the end of my days. This will be our opportunity to bid each other farewell."

Everyone – be they from the Citadels or Skyfire Avenue – sat in stunned silence as the Clairvoyant's words hung in the air.

Even though it had been the goal of the two Western powers to determine how the Clairvoyant and Keeper were maintaining, it was still a surprise to hear it from the lips of the man himself. It had been completely unexpected.

A solemn silence hung over the table. The death of a Paragon was no matter to be taken lightly, nothing to be joked about. This was especially true for this grand Prophet, the Eye of Tomorrow.

The Pontiff was first to break the silence with a sigh. "This is certain?"

This caused the Clairvoyant to chuckle. "At my age, how much more certain can we be? As the both of you are I'm sure aware, death may not be the end for us. Perhaps it is a new beginning, we cannot say. It is the natural way of things; I rose to prominence before the two of you, it is just that I should succumb first to exhaustion."

Not everyone could understand what the Clairvoyant was expressing. He was actually a generation older than the most recent manifestations of the Pontiff and Satan – and half a generation older than the Keeper. A hundred and fifty years before humanity took to the stars, he was already a Paragon.

His predictions and assistance saved humanity from innumerable loses during their first years traveling through the cosmos. Henceforth he was considered a priceless treasure to all three Alliances. Years later, at the height of his career in office, the Clairvoyant retired and established the Avenue. He was the founder of the great Adept's Paradise many of the people at the table called home, and everyone present respected. No other Paragon living or dead, had contributed as much to humanity as the man who sat at the head of this table.

Claiming death was not the end was something only a Paragon could truly grasp. Exhaustion was also not a term thrown around lightly. As old as the Clairvoyant was, he should have left the worlds of man long ago. Moreover, the things he learned and secrets he revealed took a great toll on his body. He relied on his own powers and several special methods to extend his life to this point, but how could a life like this be enjoyable?

Though the Pontiff and Satan both ached for a Skyfire Avenue without the Eye of Tomorrow – the loss to the autonomous Adept organization would be immeasurable – they took the news with heavy hearts. His death would be a loss for humanity as a whole.

Satan's deep voice interjected. "If His Majesty were to come back to the Dark Citadel with us, I'm sure we can employ some of our own life extending techniques to help."

The Clairvoyant met the suggestion with a smile, his drawn face becoming an endless array of wrinkles. "I thank you. The fact that my situation has inspired Satan himself to extend the offer is something to be proud of. However, the fact of the matter is nothing can be done for it. It is not just my life that draws to a close, but my soul as well. But it is nothing to fear. I imagine both of you are curious as to how much longer I will draw breath. Today, with my two old friends here with me, I will reveal that secret. Once you leave here after our exchange, I will be gone within three months. The title of Chairman of the Skyfire Avenue council, will fall to our Wine Master."

The Pontiff didn't utter a sound, but hung his head in solemn consideration. Satan looked on, his brows furrowed. Denizens of the Avenue were openly sorrowful at the revelation.

The Clairvoyant's smile never wavered. "I would also like to express to all the people of Skyfire Avenue, my most heartfelt thanks for their support of our home. Do not grieve for my passing, and know that Skyfire Avenue will only prosper after I am gone."

The Pontiff sighed once more. "We should not have come. Please accept my apologies Your Majesty."

The Eye of Tomorrow shook his head. "On the contrary, you both arrived right as you were meant to. There are things we shall need to discuss. If the two grand masters would attend me."Once more the Clairvoyant stood, and headed towards the far end of the hall.

Satan and the Pontiff exchanged a glance, then stood. Their eyes did not bear animosity or disdain, but fear.

Had they not known that the Clairvoyant was nearing the end of his days, perhaps Satan and the Pontiff would not have reacted as such. However, here was a paragon in the twilight of his life – it was not inconceivable that he might employ the last vestiges of his power to deal with them. It was a mortal threat they couldn't ignore.

As though sensing the fear in their hearts, the Clairvoyant stopped and turned back to face them. He chuckled. "You mustn't worry, friends. The future needs both of you. I have no interest in bringing ruin upon either of you. Please, come with me."

It was as though he'd read their mind, for after the Clairvoyant's assurances, both the Pontiff and Satan were visibly relieved. It was somewhat of a surprise to both that they would harbor such fear, being Paragons themselves. Neither had expected it.

The three mighty Paragons disappeared through a small door near the back of the hall. The remaining adepts remained where they were, watching in silent curiosity. None could guess what the Eye of Tomorrow had to say to his two contemporaries.

Their silence was interrupted when the Lord of Archangels, Metatron, rose to his feet. All eyes fell on him.

But Metatron's eyes, they went immediately to Lan Jue. He offered a nod. "Zeus. I speak for the Pontiff's Citadel, and would like to extend His Holiness' personal apology for… recent events. We humbly ask you forgive our transgressions. We are committed to ensuring no further issue remains between our organization and yourself."

Metatron, second only to the Pontiff in command of the great Citadel, punctuated the sentiment by bowing low at the waist to the Jewelry Master.

Lan Jue did not rise, and when he spoke he did so with furrowed brow and chilly tone. "Your organization should be relieved no harm came to my people. The Citadel paid it's price, consider the matter settled."

Not everyone knew Lan Jue, but there wasn't a soul present who wasn't familiar with the name Zeus. In fact, the majority of the Avenue's denizens weren't aware of Lan Jue's history before he arrived. Upon hearing Metatron address him as Zeus, there were no small number of surprised stares. The one King of the Mercenaries was their very own Jewelry Master!

There was also the news of the God-team battle, which had been spread far and wide, and here sat one of their protagonists. Zeus the Lord of Lightning, one of the Four Divine Monarchs.

Metatron smiled and nodded, but said nothing further. He returned to his seat.

"You're Zeus?" A second voice called out, deep and strange. It almost seemed to reverberate through the area.

Lan Jue's eyes swept towards the origin of the voice. "That's right, I am."

The question had come from the man who sat besides the Gourmet, known as the Fallen Angel Lucifer. The intimidating man stared at Lan Jue with hard eyes. "Finding you was one of our reason for coming here. I trust the Princess is in good health?"

Princess?

The Gourmet's eyes shot immediately to Lan Jue.

The Jewelry Master gave an indifferent smirk. "Mika's very well. But if you're here to bring her back with you, there's no point in discussing the nonsense."

The exceptionally burly man who had accompanied the others of the Dark Citadel's forces glared murder at him, and suddenly an overbearing sensation filled the air. Those yellow eyes filled with a crimson red light. Meanwhile the woman in the pine green dress watched Lan Jue as though admiring a work of art, while the tuxedo-clad man only smiled and scratched his face with a pallid hand.

"Excellent," Lucifer said, and left it at that.

As they waited, several rounds of drinks, fruit and snacks were offered by a host of white-clad servants. The Wine Master lifted a cup of water. "Welcome one and all. Forgive my lapse as host."

Metatron smiled pleasantly. "There is no need to stand on ceremony, Honored Cosmagus. We are honored to come visit the stories Skyfire Avenue. It is our sincerest hope that this exchange will strengthen the ties between our two great organizations."

"Such hypocrisy from the Pontiff's lackeys," the large yellow-eyed man rumbled. He snatched up an apple from on the table and, with a quick squeeze, broke it in to pieces. As juice and pulp flew every which way, he slowly licked his fingers clean. Those dark eyes never left Metatron.

Chapter 258: Constantine

"You dare provoke us at this table, Wolf King?" growled the Angel of Death, Gabriel.

The burly man flicked his wrist, casting bits of apple towards the opposite end of the table. "What are you going to do about it? All of you, Pontiff's boy toys… you're disgusting to look upon."

Raphael lifted a finger, and with a flash the apple residue was cast aside before it could offend him and those beside him.

"Ahem." The man in the tuxedo interrupted with the quiet sound.

The Wolf King turned his head towards the man. "What are you coughing about. You're just as despicable."

Meanwhile the Barber chortled at the exchange. His voice was thick with disdain. "I can't tell if he's supposed to be a wolf or a mutt. He'll nip at whoever crosses his path."

"You looking to die, kid?" The Wolf King shot to his feet.

"Sit."

The voice was calm, but commanding. The Wolf King shuddered at the sound, as though struck by lightning, and sat back down with no further complaint. As the words filled his ears, he had suddenly been afflicted with a terrible, suffocating sensation of terror wash over him. He knew that if he didn't immediately comply, he'd have been erased from existence.

The Wolf King's eyes were dual pools of indignation and embarrassment. He was rude, certainly, but he was no fool. He simply looked at the Wine Master, proverbial tail between his legs.

Lucifer looked calmly towards the Paragon. "Please excuse my companion, Honored Cosmagus. The Wolf King has a hard time controlling his outbursts."

"This is Skyfire Avenue." The Wine Master's response was simple, and straightforward.

Though his words were delivered quietly, they had a terrific and shuddering effect on those who listened. It was like gunpowder, and the slightest provocation would set things off. Both Metatron and Lucifer narrowed their eyes.

"We aren't sure when the three Masters will be coming back," the Gourmet chimed in. "Since everyone's so impatient for a fight, why not begin the Reaper Arena contests slightly ahead of schedule. This will help us avoid trouble with anyone a little too eager to get started."

Metatron's handsome face split in a small smile. "Alright," he said with a nod.

Lucifer similarly agreed. "Fine."

The Gourmet and Wine Master exchanged a look, then the newly minted Paragon nodded.

The largest battlefield in the Reaper Arena had already been prepared. With the Wine Master himself present, there was no danger that the copious levels of power the combatants possessed would cause any damage to the structure.

"In accordance with earlier determinations, there will be four individual battles, and one group battle of five on five. Who will be competing in the first fight?"

Metatron shot his eyes towards Lucifer. They had already come to a consensus, and the previous animosity between them was put aside.

A man, tall of stature, separated himself from the group, on the Pontiff's side. "I will be first."

Lan Jue, standing behind the Gourmet, took measure of the man. He couldn't help but reveal his surprise, for he had no idea who this gentleman was. He certainly wasn't an Archangel.

In a contest like this between two great Adept alliances, tactics were very important. There were things like antagonistic Disciplines to consider. If a combatant didn't know the strengths and weaknesses of their enemy, they were at a severe disadvantage.

The Wine Master watched Lan Jue, curiosity in his eyes. The Gourmet, meanwhile, waved towards the Pauper, who was squatting in a nearby corner.

The beggar unfurled and rose to his feet, revealing his height to be no less impressive than the unknown challenger. He hadn't bothered to change from his rags for this important meeting. He certainly stuck out.

"The Pauper will be your opponent," the Gourmet revealed.

"Ah." The transient walked towards the Wine Master, and stood at his back.

There was a flicker of doubt in the old master's eyes as the Pauper approached, to which the Pauper responded with a yellow-toothed grin.

"Hah! Is the Avenue running out of people? You're sending a panhandler after us. At least give the man some food before you send him out to get beat on," the Wolf King growled mirthfully.

It was a sentiment largely shared by the denizens of Skyfire Avenue, who couldn't understand why their resident beggar was called on for this task. However, the Gourmet was sat opposite the Wine Master, revealing his status in the Avenue – no one dare contest his decision.

"I'm curious to see when it's your turn." The frigid voice cut through the banter.

The Wolf King turned to find the source of the challenge, revealed to be a beautiful woman clad in an ancient-style qipao. Her eyes were hard and unforgiving, trained on him.

"What?" he began, "You want to play with me pretty girl? You and me can find a quiet place to… spar. Aware from prying eyes. What do you think?" His words were full of malice and lasciviousness.

However, the sentiment was ignored, as the Gourmet and Lan Jue both raised their brows. The message they deduced from his response was that the Wolf King would not be participating.

A few moments later, the two challengers were waiting in the Reaper's Arena to begin. The Wine Master would be the judge. No one complained, for they knew a Paragon was above such petty things as favoritism and cheating.

The Pauper shambled off to one corner, and very carefully placed his patched cotton comforter upon the floor. He ambled back to the center of the arena, clad in his patchwork monk's robes, grinning broadly at his opponent from the Pontiff's Citadel.

The tall man, by contrast, wrinkled his nose as though he smelled something particularly unsavory.

"The purpose of this fight is mutual education. We will not tolerate attempts to injure, or kill. If any such attempts are made, we will cease combat immediately." The Wine Master's imperatorial voice boomed from all directions.

"Begin!"

These battles were not for show, they were real competitions. No prologues or redundant ceremonies were required here. They got right down to business.

The rules governing power during competitions were largely unwritten commandments in the world of Adepts. Skyfire Avenue was hailed as the strongest gathering of Adepts because of its total aggregate strength. And how was this determined? By the very activities they were engaged in now.

"I am called Constantine," the tall man offered.

"Constantine? I'm the Pauper." The dirty man answered through his grin.

A thick golden light suddenly burst outward, surrounding the Pontiff's soldier. In the blink of an eye, he was like a golden torch.

Not all powerful men of the Pontiff's Castle had wings. The aura released by this one, insured his lack thereof wasn't construed as weakness. Thanks to the power of the Wine Master, even those observing from outside of the arena were able to feel it.

Constantine? The name was foreign to the denizens of Skyfire Avenue, but his presence here meant he must be at least equivalent to the Archangels.

As the oppressive energies soared, the first one to attack was – unexpectedly – the Pauper.

He bore no impressive aura, like Constantine, and while his advance was met with a golden halo of his own it was thin and hazy. It was like looking through threads of fine silk, or a cloud of dust. Remarkably unremarkable, just like him.

The Pauper was on the move, traversing the distance between him and Constantine in a flash. His right hand lashed out, dark and skinny as a bird's.

Constantine huffed dismissively, his right fist exploding forward. As he did, the clear and loud cries of a holy chorus sprang up around them. Layers of what looked like pristine white mountain ranges appeared behind him like a mirage.

This was the development of his Discipline? What he displayed was available only to Adepts who were ninth ranked, seventh-degree at the least. The dense aura of his energy washed over the crowd of onlookers.

An unknown player with such power, who would not be surprised by the development?

Both the Barber and Beautician sat with sour expressions. They were not participating in the one-on-one fights, but they were part of the team battle. They hadn't expected the two Citadels would bring so many who were more than halfway to paragon status. This one alone could contend with the both of them.

Constantine's empowered attack met the Pauper's incoming grapple.

Boom!

The Pauper was swallowed whole in to the undulating golden light, and as he did a golden blanket of light covered everything. The resulting wave of power felt strong enough to rival a blast from a battleship's cannon.

Metatron's face bore a tiny, self-satisfied smile.

Constantine. The Pontiff's secret weapon. It was in part because of his furtive existence that the Citadel agreed to this.

He was a demon hunter, infamous in the Western underground. His purpose, his specialty was to destroy evil. Be they Satan's men or even the Pontiff's, once Constantine had proof they were sinister he did not hesitate to deal with them. He was evil's bane.

Constantine wasn't here to represent the Pontiff's Citadel, but to represent the Western Alliance. Even Metatron wasn't sure what his true purpose in agreeing to this was. However, his sense of justice was without question, and that was enough.

Gradually, the blinding golden light receded. The arena slowly came back in to focus.

The Pauper was standing where he had been, unmoved. Constantine, however, was about ten meters removed from where he'd been before the blast. Upon his arm had appeared a shield; shimmering gold, and alive with raging fire. His previously calm façade was replaced with unbridled surprise.

No advantage? The Demon Hunter Constantine, didn't have the upper hand? Metatron's eyes narrowed at the unpleasant revelation.

Constantine's power relied on his all-consuming sense of mercy and justice. It was where his strength, and thus reputation, derived. The Pontiff's Citadel hailed him as God's will on earth. He was, in fact, a ninth ranked eighth-degree Talent, who once battled with Michael. He managed to hold his own for thirty minutes, and even Metatron was amazed by his breadth of divine empowerment.

And yet facing this unknown, unwashed beggar, he came out of their first collision the underdog.

Just as Skyfire Avenue was well familiar with the big names in both Citadels, they too were versed in the skills of Skyfire Avenue's councilmen. Metatron knew, therefore, that this Pauper was not a councilman.

So who in God's name was he?

Chapter 259: Cattail Fan vs Spear of Destiny

The Pauper chuckled, and rubbed his nose with a dirty hand. When he pulled his hand away, he curled it in to a fist. "If you keep dispersing your power like that, I won't be so easy on you next time."

As his words hung in the air, the beggar took a single step forward. The motion launched him forward with an intense blast of power, that screeched like an angry bird as he barreled toward Constantine.

The Demon Hunter's eyes were wide with amazement, and he raised the shield in his left hand just in time. The golden aura spread out around him coalesced, shrunk, until he looked like he was a statue made of gold. The stifling sensation that had come along with it also vanished.

"Boom—!"

Onlookers clearly saw the impact this time, free from any blinding golden light.

The Pauper's fist connected with the shield. Constantine was forced back a step, and his aura shuddered from the blow. Grinning madly, he smashed his fist in to the shield once more, and again Constantine was pushed back.

Seven times this happened, and seven times Constantine survived solely by virtue of his massive golden shield. To the untrained eye they looked like simply exchanges, but a discerning viewer would note the changes in the golden aura of the defender.

Where those seven strikes really all the same? In fact, they were not – there was a distinct and unique power behind every one.

Constantine blocked each with his shield, but used different defensive maneuvers each time. Still he was being pushed back.

As they looked on, suddenly the beggar's form shimmered and grew opaque – like an illusion. Where moments before there had been a deafening chorus of angels, now their heads buzzed with the sound of Buddhist chants. Where a vision of majestic mountains had appeared behind Constantine, a resplendent Buddha shimmered at the Pauper's back.

The image radiated a sense of solemn grandeur, and rays of golden light shot out from him in every direction. The impish smile on the homeless Adept's face was gone, replaced by a look of pious devotion. His fist unfurled, and using just his palm he began to slap at Constantine's shield. Each one struck with the force of an explosions, and rang against the golden shield like as though he'd struck a great bell.

The shield managed to deflect each attack as they came, shuddering as one after the other the staggering palm strike were pushed aside. But each time, he was forced to retreat.

It was the first fight, and each side had dispatched an unknown soldier to represent them. The resulting power of their match-up shocked everyone looking on. And more surprising still, was the fact this dirty man was a stronger Adept than the Demon Hunter.

Bang! Another strike from the Pauper. As they disengaged, he pressed his hands together in a devout display, and a pious aura flooded the arena. The radiant Buddha at his back also changed, with his calm face suddenly revealing a peaceful smile.

The Pharmacist, watching with hard eyes, muttered as the sensations washed over them. "Arhat of the Descending Dragon."

"Arhat of the what?" Lan Jue shot her a curious look. "What in the world is this guy's Discipline?"

"The Western transfer and reception of the Western religious powers are done through medicines and other procedures," the Pharmacist explained. "As it turns out, our own Alliance possesses similar Disciplines, but are hereditary. The Pauper appears to have the Arhat of the Descending Dragon bloodline. It's one I'm familiar with. All of this happiness and posturing between the three alliances seems harmless, and the spread of Disciplines and ability seems fair, but it isn't. I had no idea that the Pauper had such ability, and that he was here in Skyfire Avenue. You see, the Arhat's powers are derived from the Buddhist faith. The Pontiff's Citadel, meanwhile, has its roots in old world Christianity. You could say this fight in really a battle of two faiths. The difference is the Pauper's powers are entirely obtained from congenital ability. Constantine's, however, was gained from hard work, training, and pharmaceuticals. Acquired – as opposed to Natural – Talent grows quickly, but has its limitations."

"Boom!"

The Pauper's body swayed, and he staggered away from his opponent. After retreating more than a dozen steps, Constantine finally found solid footing. Spider-webbed cracks and scores of dents dotted his shield.

The Pauper spreads his arms wide. "Should we keep this going?"

Constantine hadn't yet given up, despite his inferior position. On the contrary, his eyes burned with determination. His golden shield flashed with light, then disappeared. Lifting his right hand above his head, the Demon Hunter curled it in to a fist.

In a flash, a spear appeared in his grip. The massive weapon stretched over seven meters 1. With its appearance, the whole of the Arena was bathed in a strange glow. It was like the special pocket the Arena was built in was struggling to sustain the manifestation of power.

"Oh," the Pauper said, lifting a brow. "So the Pontiff's Castle has given you the Spear of Destiny 2. So generous! It's no wonder you refuse to give in. Very well then, we'll continue."

As he spoke, the Pauper waved a hand through the air. There was a flash of golden light, and suddenly he, too, bore a weapon.

It was a cattail leaf fan, patched and torn. By the look of it, flapping it through the air would be enough to reduce it to splinters. 3

The Pauper laughed gently, and with an almost dismissive gesture waved the fan toward Constantine.

As the fan materialized, something strange occurred. The reality they existed within, having been destabilized by the Spear's appearance, settled down and returned to normal. The Pauper swayed on his feet like a drunk man, and suddenly there were six more of him. Amidst the sounds of guttural chanting, the figures raced forward, dashing in zig-zag patterns at their target. They surrounded Constantine.

The Pontiff's secret weapon stood, unmoving, with spear in hand as the Paupers approached. Once they had, he lashed out with the spear – but his objective wasn't the seven grimy beggars.

Where the tip of the spear ended, a small black dot appeared in the air. As Constantine retracted the weapon, the dot became an infinitely black hole, which immediately began to draw everything toward.

However, in the same moment a hundred thousand dots of golden light appeared all around them. The Pauper's mirror images vanished, and in their place appeared a giant hand reaching forth from the void. The spectral appendage grasped at the head of the spear. The raggedy fan, appearing without foundation from nowhere, waved once again. The power it released sent Constantine flying.

"Bang!" Constantine's body slammed against the far wall with enough force to break bone.

The massive spectral hand vanished, and the Pauper once again revealed himself. He stood calmly, gently waving the fan back and forth in front of his face. The Spear of Destiny was suspended in midair between them.

"You've lost." The Pauper smiled amicably toward his distant opponent, turned, and walked toward the Arena's exit.

Constantine clambered to his feet. He was by no means dispirited from the loss, however. With an indication of his hand, the spear flew back toward him. With the massive weapon in hand, he too left the Arena.

Metatron's face was the very picture of astonishment. Evidently, he'd not expected to lose this round.

"Constantine," he called.

The Demon Hunter simply shook his head. "I can't match him."

The Pauper left the Arena, and just kept walking. He left without a word, addressing no one. What they did not see as his figure disappeared from the Reaper Arena, was his hand which had been burned black. His victory had not come as easily at it had appeared.

The Wine Master's voice thundered through the air. "Second round."

The Pontiff's Castle had chosen first in the last fight. This time, Skyfire Avenue would begin the proceedings.

No words were required, however, for the decision had already been made. The Pharmacist shot a sidelong glance at the Wolf King, then with graceful motions rose to her feet and made for the arena.

The burly man watched her go, brows furrowed. She's actually going in to represent the Avenue? He thought. Direct as he was in interaction, he made no effort to hide his dour expression.

Lucifer, Fallen Angel of the Dark Citadel, waved a hand as the Pharmacist left. A dark shadow separated itself from him, like a piece of him was torn away and given form. The dark image vanished, appearing in the Arena moments later.

Lan Jue turned his face to the Gourmet, who stood at his shoulder. "Will the Pauper be alright?"

The Gourmet responded with a shake of his head. "It isn't serious. He's a very competitive man, our beggar. In truth both the weapons they employed had protogenic powers, but his mastery over it was more profound than Constantine's. He's also at a higher level of cultivation. The further down the Disciples' path an Adept treks, the greater advantage a congenital Adept obtains. Simply the result of accumulation."

The Pharmacist stood facing a figure encased in darkness. Nothing was clear, and even its aura was difficult to perceive.

"I am called the Pharmacist," she softly proclaimed. Be they Citadelians or denizens of the Avenue, all onlookers were surprised to see this beautiful woman in a fine dress approaching for a fight. At the very least her fine clothing would make it difficult to move!

"I… am… Judas."

The voice that rasped from the shadow was coarse and thick, like a snake slithering through sand.

As the name whispered through the Arena, every one of the Pontiff's men sucked in a breath of surprise. Even Metatron, who was usually calm and composed, had his anger and surprised revealed as his aura took on a fierce undertone. His eyes, bright and haunting, slowly moved to regard Lucifer who stood a short distance away.

Jehova was the name of the man who'd created the Pontiff's Citadel. The man had not been a Pontiff, and was instead reverently called the Father. During his reign, he had twelve disciples. The first among them had been named Judas, a man who betrayed his master for the promise of wealth. It was this treachery that lead to the capture, and eventual murder of Jehova 4. The act completely transformed Judas, and left a permanent, painful scar on the soul of the Pontiffs Citadel.

Not long after Judas' betrayal, he hung himself from a tree. So of course, the creature they spied now couldn't be the real Judas. But for him to simply use the name, was an unbearable provocation to the Pontiff's men.

Lucifer did not react to Metatron's dark glare. He spoke quietly, nonplussed. "He only possesses the image of Judas. Don't forget why we came here."

Metatron raised his hand, and little by little the others of his party restrained themselves. That didn't stop them, though, from hiding the murderous intent in their scowls.

The tense exchange was interrupted by the sound of footsteps from behind.

"Your Holiness."

"Unholy Father."

Both groups offered their salutes as the Hand of God and King of Demons re-emerged.

Both their faces bore dejected expressions. Without addressing their followers, both walked to the end of the viewing platform to watch the exchange within the arena.

The fight had already begun.

It had started with the one called Judas, who'd dark form shimmered then raced forward. Like a putrid black fog, like a black storm it rolled toward the Pharmacist until it enveloped her.

The Avenue's representative did not move or attempt to flee. She stood her ground, with that cutting glare in her eye. She gently waved her hand, and the motion birthed several rays of dazzling yellow light. There was a rumbling, like the stirring of some great beast, before a crackling bolt of lightning crashed down from on high directly in to the heart of the fog.

Lightning? This was her Discipline?

The dark figure, largely concealed by the fog, paused as the Pharmacist waved her hand. In the same instant a strange wave of power shuddered through the arena, bringing with it a silvery light that glimmered in front of Judas. It deflected the lightning strike, leaving the shadow unharmed.

After splitting the lightning and forcing it away, the silvery light rapidly expanded. It grew until it was clear – a silver coin.

Every one of the Pontiff's men snarled in unison.

1. That's twenty-three feet long, for our American audience

2. Note: the translation describes this as the 'Spear of Judgement,' however it's appearance, description and prestige rings true to a purportedly 'real' religious relic. This author's done a great deal of research, since The Lance of Longinus – which I believe this spear is based on – is a pretty obscure thing, even among Westerners. I've elected to keep the Western name instead of the translation, due to these facts.

3. I was unable to find any reference to a particular relic in Buddhist mythology, but here is a small article detailing the role of fans in Buddhism.

4. You'll recognize this as the story of Jesus, but TJSS specifically wrote Jehova, gave him the name Father, and set him as the creator of the future Christian faith. It is likely fair to assume, then, that this is some sort of agglomeration of God and Jesus. One could argue that Jesus is God, the Father, and so Jehova is actually Jesus and vice versa… but that's a religious discussion for another time. We're sticking to Jehova.

Chapter 260: Sage of the Heavenly Way

Thirty pieces of silver. That was the bribe Judas took to betray Jehova. This one who called himself Judas, used the blood money in his defense. More than anything, this was an affront to the followers of their fallen leader.

Even the Pontiff's face grew dark. "Explain yourself, King of Devils."

"We both see this as heresy," Satan returned, his voice cold and sinister. "What is there to explain?"

After deflecting the lightning attack, Judas advanced until he was very near the Pharmacist. But as he approached the beautiful young woman opened her mouth and a beam of brilliant light shot forth. It expanded and warped until it was a massive blade of light, then swiped viciously at the living shadow.

Lightning wasn't her discipline? What was this light sword?

Judas launched backward in retreat, distancing itself from the blade. Not before the weapon had landed a blow, and where the impossibly sharp sword pierced the darkness that was Judas parted like melting ice.

The Pharmacist swept out her right hand, and the blade swelled larger still. Now, roughly the same size as Judas, the dancing blade raced forward anew.

Lucifer's brows furrowed as he watched the exchange. He muttered, almost to himself, "Orient Discipline? Sword of the Emperor… a powerful ability from Former Era China. Is she somehow related to the Sage of the Heavenly way? No… there's something strange. The light has a high-technology feel… waves of high-frequency oscillation. Very strange indeed."

Venerated as second among all the great Paragons was the Sage of the Heavenly Way. The Sage was a powerful being that was intensely secretive in their doings and whereabouts, and hadn't been seen in an age. It was said that the Sage was also the oldest among the Paragons, much older even than the Clairvoyant.

It had in fact been more than ninety years since the Sage of the Heavenly Way's last sighting. But despite their long absence, the Sage's reputation was still illustrious and far-flung. The story goes the man who would become Sage did so through the ancient cultivation practices of old China, and attained immortality as a result. His existence was legendary, and was as hotly debated as the existence of God or the Devil. However, his abilities had persisted, passed down among his disciples – the most famous being the Imperial Sword.

"That's enough, both of you, stay your hand." Satan's voice boomed across the Arena.

Both the Pharmacist and Judas, who had been retreating under assault from the blade, stopped combat. There was a flash of light, and suddenly the Wine Master stood within the center of the combat ring.

All eyes turned to Satan.

The strangely geriatric sound of Satan's voice was heavy with irritation. "All of this fighting nonsense. Cosmagus, deliver us to our lodgings – all subordinates of the Dark Citadel, any who dare to cause issue during our stay will face mummification by my own hand." With his edict delivered, Satan turned to leave.

"Wait a moment," a deep voice interrupted.

"Hm?" Satan stopped in his tracks, and shock a glance over his shoulder toward the one who'd dared to address him.

"We are in Skyfire Avenue," the Gourmet said, staring at his family's nemesis. "And this exchange was proposed by your organization. You feel you can just come and go as you please?"

Satan's face grew dark as a thunderhead, and his eyes bore the threat of violence. He slowly turned back to face the Gourmet. "What are you going to do about it?"

The Gourmet didn't back down. He met the great Paragon's gaze with his own.

"I'm going to fight you."

Five simple words tore through the gathered Adepts like a thunderbolt.

A challenge? Against Satan? This was the King of Devils, uncontested Lord of the Dark Citadel!

A laugh bubbled out from the dark Paragon, full of scorn and dismissal. "You think you – having just broken through to Paragon – have what it takes to challenge me?"

Paragon?! This was their second shock.

No wonder… no wonder he had sat across from the Cosmagus to represent Skyfire Avenue. No wonder he had dared to challenge Satan. He was a Paragon – Skyfire Avenue's fourth.

The Coffee Master spat out the lollipop that had been in his mouth upon hearing the news.

The Driver scowled, and made to leave. He pulled the Seamstress after him.

The Gourmet's face, by contrast, was calm as he met Satan's stare. "I do. I believe I have the right." The air around them was thick and gloomy. A deathly stillness radiated out from within him, and the entire area looked as though it were consumed in a pale mist, like color had drained from the world. It reflected the sensation in everyone's heart.

Rivers of strange, brackish water trickled up beneath everyone's feet, and where it touched them they felt a stifling depression fill them to their bones. They felt like they would simply sink in to the depths of these waters and drown.

"Trickling death… Styx! This is power derived from Hades." The Pontiff muttered.

Satan's eyes lit up with a dark hunger, and though he didn't appear to do anything the turbid waters at his feet became a crimson red. It glowed like magma, and stretched out in all directions.

Whether it was the water of the river Styx or the magma flows of hell, both were manifestations of protogenic power.

"If you're to fight, you will NOT do it here!" A beam of silver light shot down from on high, parting the opposing powers of grey and black. The threatening contestation of their powers were unceremoniously severed.

The silver beam stretched and became a portal, from which the Wine Master emerged. He stood directly between the two men.

"Hades… excellent!" Satan chuckled darkly. He said nothing further, then turned once more and left.

The Gourmet patted Lan Jue upon the shoulder. "Come. We'll need a witness."

Lan Jue nodded. "Let's go."

"And a judge," the Gourmet continued, this time turning his head to the Cosmagus.

The Wine Master regarded his friend in silence for a moment. "Is this really what you want?"

The chef nodded, determination bright in his eyes. He followed Satan's footsteps with eager strides.

Lan Jue followed, until they reached the elevator to the surface.

Satan had already walked inside, and was holding the door for the other two. They stepped in as well.

The doors closed, and they slowly rose to the upper Avenue.

Satan's eyes flit between the Gourmet and Satan, and that small smile never left his face. There was a sinister enjoyment in it, but also a biting chill.

"Was it you who took my daughter?" Satan asked.

"Yes."

"Yes."

Lan Jue and the Gourmet spoke in the same moment.

Satan blinked at the two of them. "Who are we talking about?"

"Mika is with me," Lan Jue said, calm and collected.

"Mina was my lover," the Gourmet followed.

Suddenly, the temperature in the elevator plummeted. All light was extinguished, and everything was plunged in to unnatural darkness.

"What… did… you…say?"

BOOOM!

The whole of Skyfire Avenue shook, and a thunderous roar filled every corner. An elevator rocketed from its shaft, exploding in to the skies over the surface Avenue. Two flash followed, one black, and one grey.

As the elevator crashed to the ground, a figure pulled itself out of the elevator shaft, coughing and covered in grey ash.

"Hack! Cough! Is this retribution for those kids I tormented? Damn it… everyone I meet, I offend. Why am I always in the middle of this shit?"

Lan Jue sat upon the ground, covered in dirt and grime. He heaved a sigh.

The skies over Skyfire were dark and gloomy already. Without any indication or warning, the whole of the planet darkened. Dark clouds roiled overhead, swirling and congealing in to a massive, terrifying cortex.

The black skies and frightening winds threatened to tear the whole of Skyfire City asunder. Flashes of red shot out from the center of the vortex periodically, but in the very center of it all was a single point of grey ever expanding outward.

Without warning, a single massive column of blinding light exploded toward the heavens, originating from Skyfire Museum. About five hundred meters in to the air the column burst in to bloom, and created a photoshield that fell to envelope the whole of Skyfire City.

"What the hell happened?" The Wine Master appeared standing beside Lan Jue.

The Jewelry Master simply smirked. "The Gourmet's former lover was Satan's daughter."

The Wine Master blinked, surprised by the revelation. As a Paragon, he was well aware of humanity's trend toward resentment and grudges, and especially the history of it when it came to Adepts. At one point the houses of Satan and Hades has been mortal enemies, bent on the destruction of the other as they battle for supremacy in the world of darkness. It continued that way for generations, with its ups and downs, but neither house emerging victorious.

That is until modern times, where Satan occupied the higher position. Now he controlled the Dark Citadel, and because of this and their history Satan considered Hades his foremost threat. Even more so than the Pontiff.

Even if the Pontiff chose to attack the Dark Citadel directly, it would only unify the dark powers against it. But if it were the house of Hades that were to rise up, that was a different matter. Darkness only respected power, and if Hades could overcome Satan, allegiances would change in a blink.

So it was that the two bloodlines were ever in conflict. The Hades bloodline eventually fled to the North for protection, lest the Dark Citadel wipe them out entirely.

Therefore, for Satan's daughter to fall in love with the enemy, one can imagine the fallout. What's more, this descendant of Hades had achieved Paragon status. The Gourmet's challenge against Satan made much more sense in this context, as did Satan's fury. This wasn't just a battle over control of the Adept underworld, but the result of generations of hatred.

"Let's go." The Wine Master grabbed Lan Jue's arm, and the two vanished in a flash of light. A moment later, they were suspended in the inky blackness over Skyfire City.

As they did, Lan Jue took stock of his situation. The first thing he noticed were the six dimensional folds that surrounded them, keeping the terrible waves of energy that tore through the heavens from obliterating them.

But even with that protection Lan Jue could feel the terrible power of their protogenic energies wreaking havoc. Wave after wave of maddening power washed over them, threatening to tear them asunder. Pain, fear, death… all of the darkest parts of humanity swirled around them as the two Lords of Darkness fought for their lives.

Chapter 261: Satan and Hades

This was the power of Paragons! Lan Jue was secretly awed by what he witnessed. No wonder mechas were useless once Paragon status was achieved – at this precipice of power, their bodies and abilities far surpassed anything mecha suits were capable of.

Lan Jue thought back to his time in school, and one of the great professors he studied under. He'd said that the most awesome, most terrifying power in the world of man was a Paragon flying a Bastion ship. Only a Paragon was able to employ such a destructive weapon of man to its fullest potential.

Horrific waves of power wreaked havoc over Skyfire City. The Wine Master hovered beside Lan Jue, watching the battle unfold with unblinking eyes. There was much hidden from Lan Jue amidst the dark clouds, that the Cosmagus had no trouble spying.

This was a scarce opportunity, Lan Jue thought as he fought to see what he could. If he had hopes of ever breaking through to their level of mastery, he had to feel the fluctuations of protogenic power as they were used in combat.

The heart of this unnatural darkness looked like another world entirely. It was comprised of black mountains, scorched earth, lava flows, and stygian rivers.

It was a world constructed by the unbridled protogenic force of these two powerhouses. They were its creators, and its destroyers.

At Lan Jue's level of power, he was able to touch upon these powers that underpinned reality, but only just barely and for a short time. It was what powered his Ascension, but it was nothing compared to what was happening before his eyes. This was Paragon territory – literally, as this level of power could allow a Paragon to create a world all their own.

Or destroy one.

To describe a Paragon's power in relation to other adepts, was like comparing a God-ranked pilot to a Sovereign. The difference was enormous. As a result, even Adepts at the peak of ninth rank were irritating gnats before a Paragon. Resistance to their whims was futile.

Columns of nightmarish flame, larger than the avenue itself swirls like hungry dragons through the heavens. The gourmet let the fires wash over him, but was not harmed. The fires were his, and were birthed from strange, still, grey fires that surrounded him.

The King of Devils, too, cast out vicious tendrils of dark red fire. However where his opponent was wreathed in grey, he stood in a corona of purple fire – deep, and regal.

The difference between them could be condensed to one simple differentiation; the Blood of Hades derived its power from the souls of the dead. Satan's was demonic in nature. The manifestations of their abilities may look similar, but their origins were anything but.

Clearly the magma flows were dominating in this terrifying hellscape, taking up more than seventy percent of the overall area. At this level of power, it was indicative of absolute dominance. Satan was right; the Gourmet may have been a Paragon, but only just, and had yet to fully realize the power of the Paragons. He didn't even have an Astrum, yet.

The end result was a clear advantage for the master of the Dark Citadel. For at least fifty years he'd been learning the scope of his reality-altering powers, equivalent to the Pontiff.

The blood-red eyes of the King of Devils glared with hatred and the promise of violence. The Gourmet's own eyes were grey and dim like the eyes of a corpse, seeing far beyond in to the abyss.

"It was you who brought Mina's corpse back?" Satan's voice boomed through the world they'd created.

For the briefest instant, the Gourmet's face looked pained, as though recalling a terrible memory. "It was."

"Then you killed her, to show us your intent. To Weaken the Dark Citadel." His voice had risen as Satan's anger flared. Around them, the rivers of molten stone erupted high in to the air. Impossibly hot sprays of lava fell to earth like hundreds of thousands of falling stars.

"I was going to make the same accusation against you," the Gourmet growled. "If I had, why would I still be searching for the person who killed her. Ten years later, and I still can't let it lie. I suspected my family, suspected her death was them flexing their power – to make me hate you. But I've recently come to the conclusion that it wasn't them. I Loved Mina… it didn't matter where she came from, or who her family was. She was mine, more important to me than anything. It's time to stop the lies, Satan. Don't pretend you didn't know about she and I – she told me, you sent her after me. She was your temptress."

Satan screamed at him, the roar beastial and untamed. He reached out with his right hand, fingers curled like claws, and a beam of caustic purple light tore through the at the Gourmet.

He reacted by lifting his arms in defense, and a vortex appeared before him, born of a spectral grey light. As the beam of demonic energy collided with it, the vortex adopted the purple hue.

There was no sound, not even a whisper, but the collision of the two powers was cataclysmic.

The craggy mountains and lava flows, the flood of life-stealing water and the acres of dead land were a result of the two Paragons and their battle. It was a world created from, and reflecting their decades-long conflict.

Already occupying most of the surrounding power, the manifestations of the King of Devil's mastery expanded even farther. The Gourmet's eyes changed as well, their color deeper and more clouded.

"Bastard! You think I'd kill my own daughter over you?! Mina was my successor! My child! The most talented of us all. She had the capability of awakening the full potential of our Bloodline. Even a vicious tiger will not eat its own cubs. We live in a world of darkness, but we are not savages. How could you not understand this?!" Satan bellowed at his ancestral enemy over the calamitous din.

For a moment, the Gourmet said nothing. A few seconds passed before he spoke again. "Mina's death ruined me, for ten years I wallowed in self-pity. During that time I thought a lot, I went over every scenario and possibility. I even sought retribution. I found nothing – no clues, no trace. Even the slightest chance, I took. The smallest lead, followed. Nothing. Then I brought her body home to you. Tell me, have you tried to find her murderer?"

"Search?" Satan responded incredulously. "Why? You were her killer! I searched for YOU for over ten years. I hadn't suspected you'd flee to the Avenue, and if I had you'd be long dead. What you do now just proves it: my daughter is dead because of you. YOU are my Mina's killer, and I will end you to bring her spirit rest!"

The mountains erupted in fiery explosions, spewing columns of lava hundreds of meters in to the air. The rivers of molten stone below overflowed their banks and bubbled furiously as Satan's fury blazed. The deadly flows became purple, as did the King of Demon's eyes, and the overpowering waves of his power overtook everything around them. The skies split, the mountains crumbled, and the world came apart around them as corrupted permeated everything.

"Satan." A craggy old voice interrupted the dramatic display.

Everything froze. Crimson, black, purple and grey – all were covered in a dim golden light that brought a momentary respite to the chaos.

Sunlight, like the rays of a new day pierced the inky veil that covered the sky. Dots of starlight blazed like gemstones, and where their light touched the world was remade. The tempestuous terrain was made still and beautiful. The maddening auras that threatened to undo the planet settled and disappeared.

As the great columns of molten fire descended and vanished, the unnatural purple light in Satan's eyes slowly disappeared.

"Do you not see that he has yet to fight back? How do you think you've gained the upper hand so quickly?" As the words filled the heavens, a giant wrinkled face was projected against the starry backdrop.

A nigh imperceptible change overcame Satan's angry features. A paragon was at their strongest just before their death, and if this was a display of the Eye of Tomorrow's powers, it was as frightening as it was awe-inspiring.

The Avenue's founder and protector faced two of the deadliest Bloodlines, steeped in the highest demonstration of their power, and stopped both dead in their tracks.

"What is the meaning of this interference, Clairvoyant?" Satan hissed.

The old man's disdainful huff rushed past them like a gale. "I had no interest in your squabbles, but what I have just learned concerns the both of you, and your conflict."

"This man did not kill your daughter. Nor was she killed by his hand, Gourmet. Unfortunately, this is all I can see. The visions are… complicated. Even in my last moments I cannot see the answers to this mystery. Things are clearer, as I prepare to leave this world, but not enough."

The murderous intent fled from Satan's eyes as the Clairvoyant revealed his vision. He glared at the Gourmet. "Even that being the case, he is not without blame! Were it not for him, Mina never would have- "

"You speak of blame, King of Devils," the Clairvoyant interrupted. "Are you not her father?"

Satan visibly shook, and lapsed in to silence. An array of emotions tormented his features.

The ensuing silence hung between them, and as the Clairvoyant's starlight projection slowly faded, the world around them was back to normal.

Satan recovered enough to star at the Gourmet, that hard light never leaving his eyes. "We're just getting started – don't think this is over. The truth will come out, and if I find that you were at all responsible for her death, no one will stop me from getting retribution."

Grey and black separated, and the darkness that hung over Skyfire finally abated. As azure blue took the place of inky black, the two Paragons became clearly outlined in the air.

There was Confusion in the depths of the gourmet's eyes, but more than that there was pain. All the fear and pain and hatred in those old memories had bubbled to the surface, as had the longing that had lived in his heart for so many years. But as the vestiges of Satan's power receded, the gourmet came to his senses. In his mind's eye a beautiful face emerged, that filled his heart with hope for a better life.

The Wine Master slowly allowed his arm to drop, and his white-knuckle grip on his scepter to loosen. Had the Clairvoyant not intervened in that moment, he'd have had to get involved himself. The gourmet was a member of the Avenue, and more than that one of their Paragons now. No matter the circumstances, family had to be protected.

Satan's eyes slowly swept to Lan Jue, floating by the Wine Master's side. "My quarrel with him is done, for now. What, then, shall I do about you? Where is Mika."

Lan Jue met the Citadel's master with a calm stare. Though he had just witnessed the extend of Satan's power, he faced the man fearlessly.

"Mika has chosen another path for herself. She had chosen to forsake your blood, and the conflicts of your world of darkness. If you truly love your daughter, as you claim, you will respect her decision."

Chapter 262: Satan's Rage

Satan burst in to a fit of uproarious laughter. "She is my daughter. From the moment she was born, her life belonged to me – to the Satan bloodline. She has no choice, she can only obey. One day, she will be the next Satan, and when that time comes she will dominate the world of darkness. You, who mean nothing in the scale of things, what makes you think you can help her at all?"

The Paragon then turned his attention unto the Wine Master. "Bring my daughter to me, Cosmagus. Me and my people are leaving. I will forget what's occurred between our two organizations, but Mika is my sole successor. She is the last of my bloodline, and is destined to carry it on. She must come with me, there is no other way this plays out. If my demands are not met, I will have no choice but to take her by force, without hesitation."

Satan's arrogant, domineering voice rumbled through the skies. His oppressing aura was so strong that the color drained from Lan Jue's face.

Satan had only two daughters. This wasn't from lack of interest, but his Bloodline diluted with each subsequent generation. The trials of the Satan Bloodline where in the methods used to purify the blood, and subsequently how they've managed to remain in conflict with the Hades Bloodline for so long while maintaining dominance.

Lan Jue's face was hard, and his voice came cold and threatening. "You'll be stepping over my corpse to get her."

Satan snorted disdainfully. "That's your decision?"

"Your conflict wouldn't be with him alone, Satan." The Wine Master remained poised, calm, but firm as he stared at the Dark Citadel's master. "Do you really want Skyfire Avenue as your enemy?"

Tendrils of purple crept in to the King of Devil's eyes once more, until it consumed them, turned them in to dual vortexes of madness. "And? What of it, if the Avenue should become my enemy? Do you think you can fight me off? Your prophet is gone and dead, his final prophecies concerning mankind and not the continuance of your pitiful street. That leaves… you, and him? Maybe the Magnate. Even if you manage to harm me, your precious Avenue will be reduced to ash and rubble. Is this a price you're willing to pay?"

A dangerous light crept in to the Cosmagus' eyes. "You would create an enduring hatred, that could only end in death."

"What does some feud mean in the face of my Bloodline's extinction?" Satan replied. "The Hades Bloodline now has a Paragon, and if I lose a second successor, the Dark Citadel will change hand within a hundred years. I am shocked I have to explain the importance of this to you."

The imposing atmosphere thickened, for below the warriors of the Pontiff's citadel stood in vigil. From the Archangels to their holy knights, they watched the exchange. In their eyes, a war between the Avenue and the Dark Citadel would be quite a boon.

A voice called up from below. "I'll go with you."

The voice was quiet, calm, but firm.

Lan Jue felt his heart leap in to his throat, and even before his eyes cast downward he knew that voice. Mika was flying towards them, a fiery red contrail in her wake.

She was clad in the uniform the women wore for the jewelry shop. Her red hair was not tied in to a bun, as was her preference, but flowed freely and fluttered in the wind. Her glasses were gone, leaving nothing to hinder the view of her pretty face and moving eyes.

"Mika, what are you doing here?" Knowing that the Dark Citadel was coming, Lan Jue had had her transferred to West Hill by the NEU. Her appearance here was an unpleasant surprise.

Mika gave her long-time protector a sad smile. "I can't be so selfish, boss. You've undergone too much for me already, and all I've brought you is trouble. Let me go. I promise nothing will happen to me. I'll always be your Amazon."

Upon seeing his daughter, the madness in Satan's eyes immediately abated. He didn't utter a sound and, folding his hands behind his back, simply watched and waited.

"What is this bullshit?!" Lan Jue shot back, his anger and frustration bubbling to the surface. "When you left with me back in the beginning I swore to always protect you. No matter what or who or why, no one would ever steal your freedom again. You've made your choice, all you have to do is follow it. No matter what you say, I will not allow you to leave with him."

"And what of you, Cosmagus?" Satan called over.

The Wine Master's answer was quick and decisive. "If we were to sacrifice a woman to protect the Avenue, that wouldn't be a Skyfire Avenue worth saving. Satan, you will not – not now, nor ever – take one of my people from this place. Like our Jewelry Master, my body will have to be your threshold."

As he spoke a dazzling light flared in to existence around his scepter. With terrifying speed, reality around the Wine Master appeared to fracture like a broken mirror, leaving cracks in space-time radiating out around him.

The Gourmet appeared beside him in a flash of light, once more surrounded by the grey eminence of his Bloodline. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking Mika from Satan.

Indecision was clear on the King of Devil's face. Had he a choice, he would never dare openly offend the Avenue in this way. Especially after his private discussion with the Clairvoyant.

But now there was a Paragon for the Hades Bloodline, and the threat was far too large to ignore. Satan's own Bloodline was jeopardized, and the last best hope for him pumped through this girl's veins. He had no choice. As he'd said, without her the Dark Citadel would be lost.

ζ

Skyfire Avenue, street side.

Metatron leaned closer to the Pontiff, speaking in furtive whispers. "What should we do, Your Holiness?"

"Wait, and watch," the Paragon responded in calm tones. "This conflict is their own. We have no cause to interfere."

Metatron nodded and said nothing further. As for the Dark Citadel's representatives, they were already airborne and arrived at Satan's back as he faced off with the two Skyfire Paragons.

All of those who'd arrived with Satan stood by, roughly ten of his number. However, despite their small numbers these were the elite of the Dark Citadel. Not a one was below ninth ranked, which was power enough to fly for those without a Discipline permitting it. It was three on a dozen.

But that would change.

Much to the surprise of Satan's henchmen, many others began to appear around them, encircling the small group. One after the other faces appeared, hard, angry and ready for conflict. The Barber, the Beautician, the Seamstress… every Council member – nay, every shop owner of the Avenue appeared and surrounded them. They circled like sharks preparing to strike.

All told, a hundred Adepts now hung in the skies over their Avenue.

By now, it wasn't just Satan's men who were rethinking their choices, but the Pontiff's as well.

They were the two leaders of all the West's Adepts. The Pontiff, and Satan, were the pinnacle of Western Discipline, and with them had come their strongest soldiers. One of their reasons for coming had been to put pressure on the Avenue, and to uncover information about the Magnate and Clairvoyant.

Once Skyfire Avenue had achieved the status of being the greatest Adept haven, there was no shortage of Talent that flocked to them. The display now was the reason this place was feared. They held the advantage in their number of Paragons as well. If this trend were to continue, how long would the Northern and Western Alliances be able to claim dominance over the East?

An Alliance's strength or weakness when it came to their Adepts was reflected in their military. The inevitable march of human progress meant humanity and technology were inseparable at this point. But as their weapons became more and more fatal, they required stronger and stronger men to bear them. As it had been for so long, and will continue to be, a weapon was only as mighty as the one who used it.

The West and North had always focused on finding ways to make normal men capable of bearing these weapons. Through research and experimentation, they've molded humanity to their whim. But their unnatural methods always came with a ceiling, for an average human's body didn't have the physical requirements necessary to sustain this power. This was true from control of the simplest mecha suit to piloting the strongest battleship.

Put simply, a powerful Adept, piloting a battleship, could increase its combat effectiveness by three to five times. An Adept's will and fortitude meant fewer people would be needed to pilot it effectively. The fewer people needed to perform a task, the more efficient it became. It was a marriage of power and cooperation.

It was the same for mechas. Normal men and women could pilot one, but an Adept could turn it in to a force to rival an armada. From power to energy utility, a normal human was inferior.

And so, there was a saying that was used through all the Alliances to reflect this simple truth: Gain Adepts, and you gain the universe.

The East was inferior to its Western and Northern counterparts when it came to science and technology – this was a widely known fact. But for strength of the individual soldier, the East reigned supreme.

Anlun was a fine example. With Prometheus at the head of the Anlun army, they were an outstanding force to be reckoned with. This was proven when they beat back the North's assault, outnumbered seven to one.

As a result, both the North and the West had spent an inordinate amount of time and money in the hopes they could attract more Adepts.

The average for normal humans and Adepts was about ten to one. Middle-range Adepts – from about fourth ranked to sixth – was about a hundred to one. That number became thousands when you reached the higher echelons of Discipline control.

The East, by comparison, had been spending the last few years on their own research and development programs. Due to the Avenue's appeal they had had no trouble in recruiting Talents to help them with their technology. With the government's concerns in regards to Adepts settled, their technological development has improved quickly.

This constituted a crisis for the other two Alliances. They would have to respond or risk losing supremacy.

But in this moment they knew, even if Satan and the Pontiff joined together, they faced a threat they may not be able to overcome. The hundred or so faces watching their every move confirmed that.

Chapter 263: The Power of the Avenue

What did this mean? That – aside from those with flying Disciplines – all of them who floated in the air were at minimum a ninth-ranked Talent.

There were thirty-nine ninth ranked Adepts in the West according to their records, counting both Citadels. Specifically, twenty-one in the Dark Citadel, and eighteen among the Pontiff's number.

According to their former intelligence, Skyfire Avenue should have had about thirty of these powerful Talents, and then the three Paragons. The Avenue's power was formidable, but they had thought if they joined forces it would be enough to frighten the Avenue in to capitulation.

In this moment, it was clear their assumptions were wrong.

There were perhaps seventy or more Adepts here who were obviously at that level of mastery or higher! Moreover, these were genetic Talents, not man-made.

Satan wasn't blind to the circumstances. The Avenue's power was far beyond what he'd anticipated. Now he figured, if he tried to openly steal Mika away, there he'd do it with most of his forces obliterated. But he was Satan, master of the Dark Citadel, lord of the world of darkness where only strength is respected. How could he just tuck his tail and flee?

Their stand-off was interrupted when a wave of strange power rushed past them, originating from the Avenue below. An odd voice followed.

"A mountain of books has many pathways to the summit, and the sea of knowledge is boundless."

They were simple, if strange words. However, as the moving voice delivered them, the whole of Skyfire Avenue was embraced by a dim light, a hazy luminescence that hung over everything.

It had a milky quality, the light, with threads of inky blackness that meandered throughout. As the waves of power emanated outward they brought with them a refreshing fragrance, that filled them with a sense of scholarly integrity.

A column of white light beamed in to the heavens.

Satan, the Wine Master, and the Gourmet were the most affected by the interrupted, as their faces revealed. Satan's features bore an even nastier scowl. Manifestations of surprise and relief were clear on the Wine Master and Gourmet's faces.

But their differences in expression hid the exact same internal reaction. A single thought rang through their minds.

This is…

On the Avenue, the Pontiff was most affected. "How could this be?!" he cried in alarm. For the first time since showing himself here, the Pontiff couldn't control his reaction.

The Gourmet reaching Paragon status was still within their scope of acceptance. After all, the Clairvoyant was no longer a threat, and he was more powerful than any of them. But this voice, this light, was a surprise.

This rich, scholarly aura could be nothing but pure protogenic power. And this abundant, overbearing energy could only come from one source. The birth of a Paragon!

Indeed, another was about to join the illustrious ranks of the Paragons.

Every Adept was different, and this was equally true for the demonstration of protogenic power that was released when one became Paragon. Some were even able to affect the whole of a planet's aura. Others achieved it without any fanfare or dramatic revelation. How a Talent broke in to the Paragon level was dependent on their Discipline.

The Gourmet earned Paragon status when we ultimately and completely immersed himself in the territory his power was derived from, the Underworld. As this was a world of his making, no one else was made aware of the breakthrough. This new Paragon, having broken through right here on the Avenue, made his ascension remarkably obvious.

The gentle white light was pure and gentle, harmonizing with the energies of the world around it. The core of it was even restrained. Even the Pontiff wondered if he were capable of producing such a calming, peaceful aura.

Most younger Paragons weren't ready for the awesome power a Paragon possessed, and required a period of adaptation so that they could train themselves to become conduits of this might. The older Adepts had had time enough to cultivate themselves to the required level, and their understanding was far more profound. The drawback was that the older Adepts had a much more difficult time advancing to higher levels of mastery. It was an unfortunate double-edged sword.

ζ

The whole of the heavens overhead adopted the milky-white light, and every student on Skyfire Avenue lifted their head as a wave of harmony and intellect inexplicably washed over them. Whatever problem they were working through instantly became clear – a universal eureka moment.

Even the embattled students of the NEU, struggling on West Hill looked to the skies in curiosity, unable to stop themselves. They were training under Hua Li's direction, and though their Disciplines were still sealed the wave of unstoppable vigor forced their powers to the surface.

The arena filled with the sounds of clattering steel as the needles within them fell free of their own accord. They felt renewed, awakened as their power was restored.

Hua Li's eyes widened as he spied the heavens, and without hesitation shouted out to his charges. "Cross your legs and sit up straight. Meditate on this changes in the atmosphere, let it wash through you."

He took his own advice, dropped in to a meditative position with his chakras aligned, and closed his eyes to more clearly feel the sensations.

To be able to absorb and experience the radiant power of a Paragon breaking through was an exceedingly rare opportunity! The more profound an Adept's understanding of their abilities, the more deeply they felt such expressions of power, but it helped all who experienced it with their future growth.

This was why Hua Li had remained for so long. These sorts of good happenings were so rare in the history of humanity, that it would be a tragedy to miss.

This is especially true when considering that this sort of protogenic expression wasn't always this beneficial. If the adept had less than sublime control over its exuberance, disasters could easily follow. Especially for the common man.

Moreover, not every Paragon opened themselves up in this way for the benefit of others. At the very least this revealed their power to everyone, tipped their hand so to speak. The result was that this sort of thing had only publicly occurred four or five times in the history of humanity. But each time it did, everyone who experienced it became better as a result.

Though there was no way for Hua Li to know which Adept specifically had attained Paragon status, he was able to determine comprehension was the crux of the Discipline. It was something every living thing could benefit from, so how could he let the opportunity go to waste?

For the students involved in training, the benefits were immediate and intense. They, too, didn't dare waste a moment. Over the last few days of needles and boiling water they barely felt human, but in this instant they felt renewed. Their eyes blazed with excitement and comprehension.

After Lan Jue had removed their second needle, he'd left the rest in for a protracted period, largely because their bodies needed time to adapt to their newfound strength. The third needle was removed by the seventh day, and the fourth needle just the day before. Before now, they all still had five needles to go.

Now, all five tumbled to the ground of their own accord. Every student was stunned, nearly floored, by the tremendous power that welled up inside of them.

Everyone sat in contemplative silence; Wang Hongyuan, Tan Lingyun, Lin Guoguo… everyone. A quiet tranquility hung over the training grounds.

ζ

Skyfire Avenue.

Lan Jue immediately shut his eyes when the power came. Hua Li felt it, and so could he. Everyone hovering in the skies above the Avenue felt it clear as day.

This included the denizens of the two Citadels. After their surprise subsided, they quickly shut their eyes in attempts to capitalize on the opportunity themselves. However, despite their efforts, they felt nothing. Helplessly they opened themselves to the power, only to be denied.

A craggy, ancient voice reverberated all around them. "I seek benevolence, to share my gifts. Unfortunately, our guests came with evil intent. Satan, do you still see opportunity for retreat in the face of your transgressions?"

A point of light appeared amidst the gathered paragons, and grew in size until it was the dimensions of a man. The blinding light eventually receded, revealing the Keeper.

He was clad in a simple robe, giving the onlookers a sense of scholastic integrity, of knowledge and culture. He looked precisely like what his title implied, a Keeper of Knowledge. But strangest of all was his face, for while his voice was cracked and old, he appeared much younger than he had just a day before. His yellowed eyes were now bright and piercing, and now his youthful vigor was greater even than Satan's unnatural youth.

The gentle white light dimmed and eventually vanished, though the skies above remained bright. The childish voice returned, though where at first it had been one, now it was a chorus of youthful cries.

"All men are righteous at birth, and close to their nature. They grow and change, their habits mold them. But through knowledge, through learning, that goodness is retained."

There was another explosion of white light, and an image appeared before them that stretched hundreds of thousands of meters. It was the image of a Confucian scholar, with one hand behind his back and the other clutching a tome. His eyes were shut, and as the young voices spoke he nodded sagely. The very picture of leisure and contentment. 1

"Thrice Mencius' mother moved, to provide for him a place of learning, but played truent, so his mother cut cloth from the loom. Dou of the Yan Mountains, trained his five children, and through their learning grew famed and knowledgeable, passing the imperial exams. 2

The young voices rose to a crescendo, and smaller figures appeared in the air before the massive scholar as they read the Three Character Classic.

"Uneducated children are a failing of the father, unindustrious students are borne of negligent teachers. Learning without passion is pointless, and forsaking knowledge in youth, how can one be successful in old age?"

The towering scholar opened his eyes. The light in those eyes became stern and commanding, much like a teacher instructing his pupils.

"An unpolished jade sculpture cannot be called a work of art; Men who do not study cannot comprehend the moral path, and will not become great men."

A single small figure stood out, standing directly before the scholar. As the instruction continued, he grew.

"All children should show deference to their parents, it is the basis of humanity. Understanding the weal and woe of our ancestors shows piety, and cultivates a hardworking nature. When Kong Rong was four, he gave up his pear to his elder brother, this filial respect and admiration is something that should be taught from birth. Respect is the first and foremost measure of a man, fraternity the guiding principle, only then can we learn the ways of life; of numbers, words and wisdom."

The scene changed again. Images of the stories they head, of the lessons that were taught, hung in the air around them. The charm and wisdom of the ancient Chinese philosophies filled the hearts of every onlooker.

1. The old Chinese Confucian system of learning was to have children recite these 'pearls of wisdom' endlessly, over and over and over again until they were ingrained within them. This practice still goes on in every Chinese class – in essence, they have a textbook with quotes, which they read while the teacher listens and corrects. Today, this is used for pronunciation and grammar purposes, though they still pick many Confucian documents and phrases to do so, for cultural reinforcement (or indoctrination, however you want to look at it). This quote above, all the several following, are all real lines recited in classrooms to this day.

2. Which were basically the prerequisite to becoming a government Bureaucrat and setting your family up for life.