Chapter 134: Dinner with an Immortal
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If heaven had a rooftop, this was it.
The banquet platform hung off the side of K'un‑Zi like someone had grown a terrace out of cloud and carved jade on top. Pillars shaped like cranes held up a curved roof. The rest was open air, or what passed for air here. The atmosphere was cool, thin, and full of drifting light.
Beyond the balustrade, there was nothing but clouds. Not the city nor the sky was visible, just a pale ocean rolling beneath us.
Every now and then a piece of mountain jutted up through the mist like an island, with little lanterns lit on lonely spires.
We weren't eating yet. No one had sat.
The big round table in the center stayed untouched while people in robes and armor and weird half‑spectral bodies circled it slowly with sticks of incense or tiny spirit lamps. Muted gongs chimed somewhere unseen while words in a dozen languages floated around us.
The Omnitrix tried to keep up. [Blessing], [Toast], [Dragons' Favor], and something about [Longevity], then finally just a lot of ritual noise.
Everyone wore masks that covered the upper half of their faces.
Some were simple, starting with painted wood, a crane beak shape, and a fox. But others were ridiculous, such as a gold filigree with embedded gems, jade carved into dragon brows. Even Illyana had one, a plain white thing that made her look more unsettling, not less.
Mine was a simple black lacquer thing with a green line down the middle. It felt weird on my face. I kept fighting the urge to scratch it.
"Feels culty," I muttered.
"Because it is," Illyana said next to me, voice muffled by the mask. "Smile and don't agree to anything you don't understand."
"Tips to survive any cults," I said.
We walked the slow lap with everyone else, holding a thin stick of incense an acolyte had shoved at me. It would have been blasphemy if I was a believer.
Then again, I wasn't even sure which god I was allegedly honoring, so I just thought no hard feelings in Quetzalcoatl's direction for good measure. Because while I wasn't a believer, I'd seen her in person.
The Crane Mother was nowhere.
Just her priests, sponsors, and champions. Illyana had told me on the way up there'd be a lot of sponsors similar to her tonight, with four of them being main sponsors, each with their chosen fighter. The others were floating in the crowd somewhere.
"Where do these city rulers stand, by the way? In the divine scale." I asked quietly as we shuffled forward. "Like Odin level? Quetzalcoatl?"
Illyana's eyes flicked toward me through the mask. "Why ask?"
"Hey, I like knowing how dead I'll be if I mouth off," I said. "Already annoyed a few heavy hitters. Don't want to jump from mid‑boss to final boss without warning."
She snorted. "They are just a bunch of ancient immortals who happen to rule magical cities," she said. "Fat on chi, mysticism, and extradimensional law. Bound to their city's role and cosmic function."
"So Quetzalcoatl with better real estate is what I'm hearing," I said.
"Nah, that feathered goddess cares about stories as much as power, and power she does have. She's much stronger than these city lords," she said with a snort. "The Crane Mother cares about balance and territory. Odin plays politics. Makes sense?"
"Scale," I said. "If Odin, Quetzalcoatl, and Crane Mother walked into a bar–"
"The drink explodes," she cut in. "In raw weight? Odin and Quetzalcoatl kill each other, given preparation, and Crane Mother dies in the crossfire. That's all you need."
So she's not that strong.
Nothing to worry about then.
A few robed guests nearby shifted away from us, very deliberately turning their shoulders. The body language was universal – we don't know these people, please don't drag us in when tornadoes hit.
"Uhm, she's not nearby but you think she heard me disrespecting her?" I asked under my breath.
"Yes," Illyana said. "This is her realm, the winds carry words to her ears. But don't worry, she's heard worse. The pious mortals don't want to be seen near sacrilege when the curtain goes up."
"Cool," I was relieved. "Missed being the awkward kid at church."
Just then, a crane cried somewhere above us. It was a low, rolling sound that cut the murmurs short. Heads turned up as one.
Through the clouds, a long, white shape glided down. Wings stretched wide enough to blot out the lantern light. Feathers like polished ice. A long neck that ended in a beak sharp enough to cut stone.
The enormous crane circled the platform once, slow and deliberate, wind from its wings tugging at sleeves and banners. People bowed as it passed. Some dropped to both knees. I stayed standing.
So did Illyana.
"Should I…?" I started.
"You're an invited champion, a follower of the Demon Queen Illyana, why must you bow to her?" she explained with a smirk. "Bow when she gives you reason. Not because everyone else does."
The crane's shadow washed over us. For a second, golden eyes like coins looked straight at me.
Then the bird folded its wings and dropped.
It hit the flagstones without a sound.
Light crawled up its legs, over its wings, over its head. Feathers melted into falling streamers. The beak folded in on itself and became a porcelain mask. When the glow faded, a woman stood where the crane had landed.
She was tall and thin in the way old paintings made immortals look – like they'd forgotten food was a thing and lived on incense and air. Her robes were layered blues and whites embroidered with cloud and crane motifs. The mask covered everything from the bridge of her nose up, with stylized feathers fanning out at the edges. Her hair was piled up under a jade crown shaped like spread wings.
I could see her lower mouth, and her skin was… grey. Not like an old lady's no, the skin was smooth, but it was gray in color. Her lips was glossy purple.
She carried no weapon, just a long, slim staff and an aura that said she didn't need one.
"Welcome, my guests," she said, and the word rolled through a dozen languages at once before settling into one in my head. "Eat, drink, enjoy. But remember you stand on borrowed sky."
Everyone bowed again. Even some of the other heavy presences dipped their heads a fraction. Illyana didn't move. The Crane Mother's eyes, hidden as they were, seemed to track that, then move on.
Servants flowed out from side doors. All of them were silent figures in crane masks setting dishes, pouring wine, lighting more incense. For a few minutes the platform was just motion and the clink of porcelain.
Nobody began eating though. The Crane Mother was sitting on a table by herself, and there were empty seats around her.
Then the Crane Mother lifted a hand.
"My dearest sponsors," she said, followed by four names. "Please bring your chosen."
The crowd shifted.
A priest in white gestured Illyana and me toward the main table. Three other pairs were already being herded that way.
We took our seats.
The Crane Mother sat in the highest chair, back to the mountain, mask turned toward the clouds. On her right, an old man in plain grey robes with a Tiger Island crest at his collar. On her left, a middle‑aged woman in black and red onmyoji robes with paper charms woven into her hair. Next to her, a man in emerald silk whose pupils were vertical slits – something about him smelled like money.
Their champions sat one step down, slightly behind them.
I didn't know most of them, but how could I not recognise Tiger's Beautiful Daughter of the Tiger Island? She was… as daring with her clothing as she was in the comics.
She sat beside the Tiger Island elder like she owned the space. Her long legs were crossed with careless confidence under her, her eyes watching me. I chose to watch her outfit instead. She wore less robe and more skin, sleeveless silk cut high at the thigh, and patterned in black and gold tiger stripes that clung where they shouldn't.
The onmyoji's champion was a slim Japanese woman with a sword and a fox mask. The demon merchant's champion was a hulking brute with jade plates grafted into his skin.
And then there was me, at Illyana's side, with my cheap mask and borrowed etiquette.
Not bad.
The first part was small talk, at least for their value of small talk. Compliments on the arena formations. Oblique references to past tournaments. A few dry jokes at the expense of some absent Heavenly Cities, not even trying to pretending to help the Crane Mother.
The demon merchant – someone called him "Lord Jade Account" – slid pathetic compliments at the Crane Mother again and again. Even I could tell the woman didn't enjoy them.
"Your siphon array is elegant as always," he said. "K'un‑Zi bleeds efficiency."
"K'un‑Zi bleeds necessity," she corrected mildly, which finally put him quiet.
Food came in courses. They were delicate things carved into crane shapes, small meat dishes, and bitter greens that buzzed faintly against my teeth. I ate carefully. Illyana didn't seem worried, which was my main barometer for poison.
Halfway through some spicy fish, the Crane Mother finally shifted gears.
"Mortals speak," she said. "Heaven listens. Sometimes heaven answers. Sometimes it ignores."
Wow, what a wise woman. Is this bullshit what passed for wisdom in these cities? Even I–
"You," her head turned slightly toward me. "Sometimes a mortal reaches up and drags the answer down by the throat."
The table went still.
"I heard," she continued, "that Benjamin Tennyson did not wait politely for fate to unspool on an island called Genosha."
How does she know? Fuck.
The Tiger Island elder's jaw tightened as he stroked his beard. The onmyoji's eyes narrowed behind her mask. Lord Jade Account smiled with too many teeth.
"He tore time, I heard. Quite the fear," the old man in grey said. Soft, but sharp.
"Blasphemy against balance," the onmyoji added. "Life taken and returned without spirits' consent? My clan calls that hubris."
Lord Jade let out a low chuckle. "My accounts call it initiative."
Hey, wasn't this supposed to be some state secret? How does everyone and their mother know about this?!
Illyana's mask tilted. I could feel the pride radiating off her. "He reversed a genocide that should never have happened," she said. "Call it what you like. You weren't the ones swimming through those minds."
I assumed since these were the heavenly cities, even if they weren't exactly Asgard or Olympus, they also had the luxury to observe death and likewise. A massacre and rewind of that degree must have pinged their radar…
The Tiger Island elder's head turned slightly at Illyana's words. "Demoness, you–"
The Crane Mother raised a hand before anyone could trade more barbs. "We will not pretend heaven has clean hands," she said. "I wished to see the piece myself."
Her focus settled fully on me. For a second the mask seemed less like carved porcelain and more like a crane's skull.
"Tell me, Benjamin Tennyson," she said. "Why did you not stay on your small blue world and cling to what you had already stolen back? Why step onto my stone and into my game with that device on your wrist?"
Everyone was watching. Even the fox‑masked champion.
I swallowed the food on my mouth, set my chopsticks down, and thought about lying. It didn't seem worth it.
"I wanted to lie and say I don't trust any of you to leave the board alone," I said. "But honestly, I am just bored and happened to stumble upon this."
A few breaths caught around the table. I kept going before Illyana could cackle.
"But the more I see, the happier I am to be here. A bunch of old monsters doing the same dance for centuries, making it hard for us mortals for no reason," I watched their reactions. "Since you guys bought up Genosha, let's talk about that. You guys aren't a major pantheon, so there shouldn't be rules that prevent you from meddling with fate. At least not too strictly. And yet, the only time you guys descend on earth is when you need something for yourself. Be it fame, recognition, or something else."
Lord Jade's smile deepened, but it wasn't a kind smile. The onmyoji's fingers twitched against her sleeve.
"Genosha burned along with millions," I said. "I had something that could fix it. So I did. And once you drag the timeline off the rails like that, hiding doesn't feel like an option. So here I am, sitting here. Making sure whatever you're building doesn't eat my planet by accident."
Silence.
"We are the protectors of earth," the onmyoji said with a scowl.
That made me laugh. "Surely."
Something like a laugh hummed in the Crane Mother's throat too, and it was a creepy sound. Not loud, just a ripple.
"You speak as if your world is the center of all things," the onmyoji argued. "This universe has uncountable worlds."
"But this the one with my people on it," I said. "That's enough."
"You juggle tiger teeth, child, " the Tiger Island elder said. "That watch should be under proper ward. Locked beneath this city where it cannot break more than it already has."
The Omnitrix hummed.
"Held safely by K'un‑Zi, yes, that does sound like a good plan," Lord Jade said smoothly, eyes sliding toward the Crane Mother. "Under your direct view, of course. Imagine the stability, Mother. His burden relieved. Your city stronger."
Illyana's aura flared like a match about to hit gasoline. The Soulsword at her back hummed in the way only someone sitting this close could hear.
I put a hand on the table, deliberately casual.
"Last person who tried taking this thing off me ended up getting slapped by God among Gods, Quetzalcoatl," I said lightly, throwing her name under the bus. "If you guys are so capable, I can summon her any time."
Lord Jade's eyes narrowed.
"But funnily enough, that person was an immortal as well," I continued. "Not that Quetzalcoatl cared. Just keep in mind when you joke around with stuff like that..."
"Are you threatening me, child?" the Tiger Island elder scowled.
"With this thing on my wrist," I said. "If I just so want to, my existence is a threat to you and your entire Tiger Island."
That made the Tiger's Beautiful Daughter sitting beside him growl like a beast, glaring at me.
Illyana relaxed slightly next to me. I could practically feel her smirk.
The Crane Mother's fingers tapped once on her cup.
"I am very disappointed at a few of your suggestions. Do I have the habit of stealing toys from children at my table?" she asked, offended. "Even destructive ones." Her gaze slid over the other sponsors. "I have no need to curry favor with guests by pretending I do."
Lord Jade inclined his head, just a fraction. The old man in grey pursed his lips and said nothing.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"What I am curious about though, Ben," the Crane Mother continued, "is how far your sense of 'making sure things don't get worse' extends."
Her attention didn't fully leave me as she turned her head slightly, and I spoke up, "Speaking of things not getting worse, I happened to notice the drain under my feet. What are you trying to fix?"
That was a dangerous poke.
A few of the lesser attendants across the platform stiffened. The onmyoji's champion's head turned a fraction.
"You dare ask about K'un‑Zi's heart in such a way while sitting at the Crane Mother's table?" the Tiger Island elder snapped.
"Rather ask here than poke around in your basement," I said. "Seemed polite."
Lord Jade chuckled, low. The onmyoji said nothing, but her fingers had stopped their small movements. Waiting.
The Crane Mother's shoulders rose and fell in something that might have been a sigh, might have been amusement.
"At least you are direct," she said. "Most mortals think flattery hides fear."
She lifted her cup, watching the tea swirl. When she spoke, her voice carried farther than before, touching the edges of the platform.
"K'un-Zi's fighting pits aren't just arenas right now," she said. "They are my lungs. Its purpose is to shape and recycle power. Long ago, the previous 'Iron Fists' broke the balance by killing my champion. My power has been weakened since."
Her fingers tightened minutely on the cup.
"Rage without wisdom, those fools," she said. "He killed my champion, and my chi that was powering my champion withered. My authority eroded, healing far too slow for it to matter. This is the solution."
"So the tournament is physical therapy," I said. "For immortal power."
"The tournament is an agreement," she corrected. "I open my gates and allow so many mortals and lesser immortals to chase my favor, my blessings, and my mantle. The winner will be granted all those things. Those who fail feed the machine that lets that happen."
"They know?" I asked. "The ones down there. They understand they're buying lottery tickets with their chi?"
"They are not cattle," she said with a nod. "We do not lie. Every sect that sends a fighter here knows the price. Power offered and power taken. I'm a little offended your sponsor didn't explain properly."
"I did, he probably didn't pay attention," Illyana shrugged.
"Regardless. This is normal procedure, Benjamin," the Crane said. "You think your own world's nations fund their wars with anything better?"
I couldn't exactly argue with that.
In my head, the image was ugly but clear. This was a lottery with divine branding. A single jackpot winner, a lot of losers, and everyone's tickets going into the same house stash.
The Crane Mother set her cup down with a soft click and straightened.
"I apologize for the petty threats a few have sent your way. While you stand on my stone, Benjamin Tennyson," she said, voice smoothing out into something that carried to every corner of the platform, "your watch stays on your arm. Your life is not a bargaining chip. Any hand raised against you here is raised against me."
That was surprising. She was offering me her protection.
It was not some magical oath – at least not one I could feel – but in a place like this, words weren't just sound.
Possession and protection in the same sentence.
Illyana's satisfaction sharpened beside me. The Tiger Island elder scowled. Lord Jade hid whatever he felt behind a polite nod.
"Now," the Crane Mother said, picking up her chopsticks again, "let us eat without making each other uncomfortable."
The tension bled out in little exhales. Conversation picked back up in safer channels. Someone refilled my cup with tea that hummed faintly in my teeth. Tiger's Beautiful Daughter shot me a glare and said something to her sponsor. The fox‑masked champion finally started on her food.
I picked up a dumpling and chewed, trying to ignore the stares.
Illyana leaned close enough that only I could hear. "You did well. Didn't even swear once."
"I don't swear," I whispered back.
She chuckled.
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