If one were to observe the Nightless City at this moment, the transformation would be unmistakable—the city of eternal light had been plunged into a shadow of dread.
The massive gates, which usually stood as symbols of welcoming prosperity, were now thrown wide to accommodate a grim migration.
Giants, rare and hulking beings seldom seen in such numbers, marched through the thresholds.
They were clad in crudely stitched animal hides that strained against their massive frames, clutching huge, iron-enforced wooden stakes that functioned as primitive but devastating clubs. With every thunderous step they took, the very foundations of the city trembled.
The population had surged by fifty percent in a matter of days, turning once-stately passages into congested veins of sweating, anxious bodies.
Whether they were commoners, nervous acolytes, or official Magi, a singular darkness clouded their expressions. The air was thick with the scent of paranoia; official Magi scanned the crowds with predatory distrust, their fingers twitching near their spell components whenever an unfamiliar face crossed their path.
In the city's first zone, the economy had inverted. Raw materials, once the lifeblood of trade, saw their prices plummet as merchants liquidated stock to flee.
Conversely, defensive artifacts, healing salves, and combat potions experienced a meteoric rise in cost. Shop after shop displayed the same harrowing sign: SOLD OUT.
This was the frantic heartbeat of a world realizing its end was near. The rumors of the Third Great Magus War were no longer whispers; they were a deafening roar.
The catalyst for this frenzy had occurred two days prior in the Eternal River Plains, a neutral buffer zone between the territories of Light and Dark Magi. A group of explorers, searching for mundane ruins, had accidentally tripped an ancient mechanism, unsealing a Magus' secret plane.
The scale of the discovery was staggering: More than 6500 kilometres.
The density of elemental particles within was classified as Grade A, the highest quality imaginable.
To put this into perspective, a titan of the Light Magi like the Four Seasons Garden possessed a secret plane of only 600 kilometres size.
This new territory was ten times larger, a literal continent of untapped resources, ancient inheritances, and concentrated energy.
Even the most "peace-loving" Light Magi, usually buried in their scrolls and alembics, felt the stirrings of a murderous avarice. Such a prize was worth any amount of blood.
The activation had triggered a chain reaction; the secret plane possessed at least seven distinct entrances, all of which had automatically opened. The magical undulations from such a massive rupture in space were detected by official Magi over a thousand li away.
Dark and Light organizations converged on the Plains like vultures, and the initial meeting resulted in a bloodbath so severe that no single group could claim total victory.
Information leaked from the survivors, spreading layer by layer until a continental civil war was ignited.
The current map of the Eternal River Plains was a fractured mess. The Dark Magi had successfully seized three entrances; the Light Magi had consolidated their hold over another three.
However, it was the seventh and final entrance that had the entire South Coast paralyzed with intrigue. It was held by a newly emerged, enigmatic faction that claimed allegiance to neither side: Astral Requiem.
No one knew the origins of this group, but their strength was indisputable. Both Light and Dark organizations, arrogant in their established power, had sent "reclamation groups" to seize the seventh entrance, viewing the newcomers as mere upstarts.
They were wrong.
Not a single soul returned from those incursions. Not even a spirit remained to tell the tale. Astral Requiem defended their borders with a cold, mechanical efficiency. They deployed legions of powerful, branded knights who fought with the coordination of a single mind—warriors who could compete with official Magi and who displayed a suicidal lack of fear.
These "dead warriors" were perceived as complete madmen, their absolute loyalty making even the most selfish and cautious Magi break into a cold sweat.
Backing these terrifying knights was at least one Rank 2 Magus of immense power. Yet, it wasn't just brute force that maintained their sovereignty. Astral Requiem had established a delicate equilibrium by opening trade to both Light and Dark parties.
In a normal era, the two Great Powers would have crushed such a third party to prevent them from mooching.
But in this fragile moment, the resources traded by Astral Requiem were too vital to lose. Moreover, no leader wanted to risk attacking them and accidentally driving such a lethal force into the arms of the opposition.
Magi care only for benefits, and as long as Astral Requiem provided them, the decision-makers chose to let the Silent Ghost of the seventh entrance remain.
Inside the secret plane itself, a literal hellscape had formed. It was the largest resource-gathering war in recorded history. Magi from every corner of the coast—fugitives, wandering scholars, and sect elders—were rushing toward the Plains.
A small fragment of this territory could fund a Magus's research for decades. More importantly, the rumors of ancient inheritances within offered a tantalizing hope: the chance to shatter a bottleneck and advance to Rank 3, or even the mythical Rank 4 Morning Star Magus.
The Four Seasons Garden had mobilized its full might, claiming one entrance and funneling their Battle and Hunting teams into the interior in endless batches.
As a vital member of the Potioneering team, Lancey Evans had been issued a high-priority mission: the mass production of Heart of Lava. This was a devastating offensive potion with a massive area of effect, designed for trench warfare and clearing fortified positions.
Lancey noted that the attitude of the department head, Decarte was grim. His frantic demands for Heart of Lava suggested that the Four Seasons Garden was struggling to hold its ground against the Dark Magi's onslaught. If the situation continued to deteriorate, Lancey knew the inevitable: even Alchemists and Potion Masters would be dragged from their labs and thrust onto the frontlines to serve as fodder for the Garden's survival.
Across the Eternal River Plains, the stage was set for a play of alliances, betrayals, and systematic murder. Small organizations formed desperate coalitions to avoid being crushed by the giants, while individual Magi turned on their friends for a single blade of magical grass.
In this sea of chaotic bloodlust, the only island of eerie, unshakable stability was the seventh entrance, where the black-robed sentinels of Astral Requiem stood watch, their eyes as cold as the void they represented.
...
The corridors of the mist-shrouded mansion were silent, save for the rhythmic, heavy thud of boots against stone.
Leylin Farlier walked with a predatory grace, his umbra-black hair trailing behind him like a silken cape.
Directly behind him, looming like twin towers of iron, were his personal shadows: Dexter and Greem.
Dexter was a titan of a man, his shoulders so broad he seemed to narrow the hallway as he passed. His muscles were corded like steel cables beneath his dark, runic armor—a physical testament to the raw power of a Saint Knight.
Beside him, Greem was equally tall and possessed a formidable, lean build that suggested explosive speed.
Greem's gaze was sharper, more observant; he had been with Leylin since the master was a mere Level 2 acolyte. Having watched Leylin's meteoric rise to a Rank 2 Warlock and Saint Knight in such a short span of time, Greem's loyalty had long ago evolved into a fanatical devotion.
He served not just as a bodyguard, but as the Chief Commander of Leylin's martial forces and the Head Knight of Astral Requiem.
The trio reached the end of the corridor, where the heavy, reinforced doors of the primary experiment hall stood. Waiting there was Stewart Anna.
She was strikingly beautiful, her blonde hair caught in the torchlight of the hall. She wore a dark, form-fitting bodysuit that allowed for maximum mobility, and a curved sword hung in a black leather sheath at her waist.
As Leylin approached, she pressed her hand to her heart and bowed with practiced elegance.
Leylin didn't stop, but his crimson pupils flickered as he commanded the A.I. Chip to scan her.
[Target Scan: Anna. Saint Knight. Strength: 22.8. Agility: 21.7. Vitality: 33.1. Spiritual Force: 21. Has been branded with runes: Metal Extension Effects: Able to store large amounts of metal elemental particles on the surface of the body and use it in battle. Each attack will have an additional damage. All elemental particles can be set off at one go, and the effect is similar to a rank 1 Magus' Spell. Estimated power: 30 degrees! Status: Healthy.]
Since his own advancement to Rank 2 and the attainment of his Saint Knight foundation, Leylin's understanding of the Branded Swordsman Manual had reached a level of terrifying clarity.
By using his original knights—Dexter, Greem, Faisal, Fraser, Freed, and Mandal—as living templates, he had spent months cracking the intricate runic codes required to open the body's hidden energy channels.
Through his mastery of bloodline research and the immense processing power of the A.I. Chip, he had optimized the traditional knight's breathing techniques, pushing them beyond the limits of a Grand Knight into the realm of the Saints.
However, Leylin was a Magus who prioritized results over morality. To bolster his army, he had purchased dozens of Grand Knights from the black markets and slave pens of the South Coast.
He subjected them to a brutal, dual-path experiment: the engraving of the Branded Runes combined with bloodline infusions from various Rank 1 magical creatures.
The extraction of Rank 2 blood was a ruinously expensive and dangerous endeavor, so Leylin had primarily utilized peak Rank 1 essence to create what he called "Bloodline Knights."
The path to this success was paved with corpses. Out of 47 Grand Knights used in the experiments, only 22 survived the initial rune-engraving and blood-infusion. Of those 22, only 16 remained functional as functioning knights.
The technique was fundamentally flawed. The violent collision of powerful magical bloodlines with the relatively weak human frames of the Grand Knights—who lacked the spiritual force to harmonize the two—resulted in a catastrophic drain on their vitality.
These newly ascended Saint Knights were gifted with immense power, but at the cost of their longevity; most were left with a remaining lifespan of only one to two years. Comparatively it's still far better than Fang Ming's first successful Branded swordsman life span of merely 2-3 months.
Of course Leylin has a more complete research, a higher resource pool, his Rank 2 strength which has upgraded his A.I.Chip to a higher processing power, achieving greater simulation and better modeling for research and development.
Only his "Originals"—the inner circle that included Dexter, Greem, and Faisal—had been ascended using the "Pure" Saint Knight technique, which has somewhat preserved their life force.
Anna, through her proximity to Leylin and the use of various potions, had also achieved this stable ascension.
The rest of the 16 functional Bloodline Knights were reorganized into a division Leylin named "Rebel Hearts," serving as the elite backbone of Astral Requiem.
The remaining survivors were something far more grim called Dead Soldiers. These were knights whose bodies were so unstable they were used as biological bombs for mutual destruction—suicidal warriors whose ruthlessness had earned Astral Requiem its fearsome reputation among the Light and Dark Magi alike.
Leylin paused before the doors of the lab, the air around him cold and heavy with the weight of his ambitions.
"Anna," Leylin said, his voice a low vibration. "Report on the stability of the latest batch."
"All sixteen knights of the Rebel Hearts have stabilized their respective postings, Milord," she replied, her voice steady. "We have also send six of our recruited wandering Magus to main gathering points of our entrance, and also dozens of acolytes."
"Em.."
Leylin stood before the heavy doors of the experiment hall, his crimson eyes reflecting the dim torchlight of the corridor. He remained silent for a moment, his thoughts drifting back to the cold streets of Eternal Night City where he had recruited seven children.
"Anna," Leylin said glancing at Greem as he began, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable softness. "Has Faisal returned with the brats?"
Leylin is talking about the seven children he had recruited in Eternal Night City, those he left in Andre Town to fend for themselves with some knight resources.
"Milord," Anna replied, standing at attention. "Knight Faisal has successfully brought all seven back to the mansion. He also returned with little Ivy, who has surprisingly ascended to the level of a Knight in such a short amount of time. While the boys have all reached the Knight level, none have attained the rank of Grand Knight yet."
Leylin nodded slowly. "Assign them to train under Faisal, practicing the foundational Saint Knight manual and provide them with advanced Life nourishing potions."
Despite his detachment, Leylin have a small lingering sentiment for them which is why he sent Saint Knight Faisal to retrieve them through a long back and forth journey through the golden desert.
For years Leylin had ensured these kids are well-fed and their training is strictly supervised. Even now he is willing to spend some resources into their growth; expecting them to reach the Grand Knight level soon.
He paused, a cold light flickering in his eyes. "Once they have stabilized at the peak of the Grand Knight rank, I will begin the experiments to see if they can ascend to become Branded Knights—our Saint Knights. As for the Bloodline Knight path, I have not yet decided. I will leave the choice of that transformation to the children themselves when the time comes."
Leylin turned his gaze toward the laboratory doors. Although the path of a Bloodline Knight was unstable and grim, its potential surpassed that of a simple Saint Knight. To perfect it, he would need to consolidate his findings through a higher number of experiments.
Currently, his resources were stretched thin; he had already expended a massive amount to create his current force of twenty knights—the sixteen Bloodline Knights of the Rebel Hearts and his four stable Saint Knights.
With his own high-grade meditation technique practice, his ongoing soul-bound devourer research, and the management of Astral Requiem, his list of research was seemingly endless. At every new step, he found himself at a crossroads of different paths.
He thought specifically of Ivy Langster. With her trace of the ancient Pala Nighthawk bloodline, she could potentially become a pioneer. If he could brew a potion to tap into that specific drop of ancient blood, she might become the first truly stable Bloodline Knight.
"The snakes that Lancey purchased," Leylin said, shifting his focus back to the immediate task. "Are they prepared?"
"They have been heavily sedated and moved into the formation as you instructed, Milord," Anna confirmed.
"Good." Leylin looked over his shoulder at the two giants looming behind him. "Greem, Dexter—stand guard at the entrance. Let no one interrupt."
The two Saint Knights slammed their fists against their chest plates in a silent salute, taking their positions like immovable statues on either side of the heavy doors. Leylin turned the heavy iron handle and stepped into the cold, sterile air of the experiment room, the doors sealing shut behind him with a resonant thud.