Three days after the rift tore open in Baoahong, Emperor Suzaku Ryuta called the Council together in the audience hall at Oden.
Around the long cedar table sat Shogun Choi Seojun, Grand Admiral Shibata Takashi, Mistress Sheng Lizhan, Archpriest Yohan Grale, the Hwadosen High Priests Ji Dae-Hyun and Soo Wu-min, Dae-Ryeong Choi Eunjoo, and the other council members. Two urgent problems sat at the center of the discussion: two Gates of Abaddon opening within a single week, and the still-unsolved murder of High Priest Abe Kizuki.
Shogun Seojun stood, unrolling a stack of regional reports. "Kyungsuk was hit first, and now Baoahong," he said, looking around the table. "These gates aren't staying confined to the far west anymore. It appears that the threat of the gates, as warned by the Fabled Class members, is real — and if we don't act now, our cities and towns will be overrun with fiends."
He turned his gaze to the Mistress of Shengyowon. "Is this still not enough to treat the matter with real urgency, Mistress Lizhan?"
Lizhan met his stare without flinching. "I recognize the danger, Lord Shogun. But that doesn't justify letting strangers into the most sacred vault of our empire. If all they want is answers about the Heavenly Crystals, I can search our ancient texts myself. Instead they're demanding open access, as if Shengyowon were some public library. That's reckless — and it's suspicious."
"I have to agree with the Mistress," Archpriest Yohan said smoothly. He offered a smile laced with practiced sorrow. "They call themselves the Fabled Class and claim to hunt fiends across the western continents, yet they operate entirely in the shadows. I've spent years traveling the west building hospices and funding relief efforts, and I never once heard their name mentioned. We shouldn't be so quick to hand over our state secrets."
Choi Eunjoo raised a hand and stepped forward from the side of the hall.
"You may speak, Dae-Ryeong," the Shogun said.
"I understand the doubts," Eunjoo said, his voice steady and direct. "But those strangers stood on the front lines and bled to protect our people from the Southern Alliance. In times like this, we need capable allies, not more enemies. We can't fight pirates, southern warships, and daily monster swarms all by ourselves."
Yohan shook his head, his tone gently dismissive. "You're stirring up unnecessary panic, Dae-Ryeong Choi. Two rifts in one week hardly makes an apocalypse. Our people are still recovering from a bloody war. Thousands have lost their livelihoods, and breadlines stretch down every street. Shouldn't our focus go toward assisting our own people first?"
High Priest Ji Dae-Hyun slammed his hand on the lacquered table. "Why do you always downplay every threat to this empire, Archpriest Grale? The Gates of Abaddon are as real as the blood on our temple steps — and just as real as whoever murdered High Priest Kizuki!"
The hall went completely silent.
Yohan pressed a hand to his chest, his warm smile shifting into an expression of wounded innocence. "Your grief has made you bitter, brother Dae-Hyun. Abe Kizuki and I had our differences, but we were honorable rivals. I despise violence. I've always prayed for unity and peace between our religions. I believe we should not focus on accusing and hating each other but figuring out a path to peace instead, so we can help more people."
"You always preach about helping people and peace, but your charity only ever reaches worshippers who kneel to Yeoljin!" High Priest Soo Wu-min snapped, leaning across the table. "I've read your ledgers. You draw heavy funding from the imperial treasury in the name of public relief, then funnel that food strictly to your own followers and take credit as if the coin came out of your own pocket!"
Yohan kept his composure. "You're twisting the truth, High Priest. The hungry are being fed. If Hwadosen followers are suffering, it's because their own clergy failed to organize relief as efficiently as we did. We don't expect the Emperor to feed the subjects of foreign realms — why should it be any different for my ministry?"
"Enough!"
Emperor Ryuta's voice thundered through the vaulted chamber, silencing both sides at once. He leaned forward, his eyes sweeping over the divided table.
"We cannot ignore the threat at our borders," the Emperor declared, looking firmly at Lizhan. "Mistress Sheng, the alliance with the Fabled Class stands. You will cooperate with them to uncover what's happening to the crystals. Whether you welcome them into Shengyowon or not, it is your decision on how you would help them. But we cannot turn away their help when our cities are at risk to be stormed by those fiends."
Lizhan dipped her chin in a curt, measured bow. "I understand, Your Majesty. If it pleases the Crown, I shall review our historical records and transcribe what is relevant to the barrier's decay. But Shengyowon's physical gates remain sealed to outsiders, Your Majesty. That line will not move."
"Thank you, Mistress Lizhan." He turned to the clergy next. "And the murder of High Priest Kizuki is a direct stain on the security of this empire. I will not allow riots to tear our streets apart while an assassin walks free. I'm reallocating fifteen percent of the seasonal budget straight into military defense and city patrols. And to make sure our people don't go hungry, I'm ordering every council member seated here to draw on your own private wealth and estates to close the relief gap. You're all dismissed."
Yohan bowed low, hiding his cold disappointment behind his usual grandfatherly smile. He exchanged glances with the High Priests of Hwadosen and offered a smile, but they outright ignored him.
An hour later, High Priests Wu-min and Ji Dae-Hyun boarded their carriage under heavy escort. Rattled by Kizuki's murder, the order had doubled its guard — eight armed guards now rode alongside the carriage as it rolled through the streets toward the Sun Temple of Hwadosen.
When they reached the sunlit temple courtyard, crowds of white-robed followers bowed in quiet reverence. High Priest Wu-min gathered his scriptures and headed for the main altar to lead the evening sermon. Worn down by the council's bitter arguing, High Priest Dae-Hyun retreated to his private quarters on the second floor.
"Watch the door," Dae-Hyun told his personal guards. "Don't let anyone disturb me until the bells ring for supper."
"Understood, Your Eminence," one guard answered with a bow.
Inside his chambers, Dae-Hyun unclasped his ceremonial sash and draped his white robes over a chair. He pushed open the wooden window to let in the cool mountain air, rubbed his tired temples, and lay down on the bed.
Hours passed. An attendant arrived carrying a tray of warm tea and rice porridge. He knocked softly against the door frame.
"High Priest Dae-Hyun? High Priest Wu-min sent me to ask if you'd like to join the clerics in the refectory, or if you'd rather eat here."
No answer came from inside.
"He's probably still asleep," one of the guards said, shifting his weight. "He was worn out after the palace."
"Could you at least check on him?" the attendant pressed. "High Priest Wu-min wanted to make sure he eats something."
The guard sighed, turned the iron handle, and pushed the door open. "Your Eminence, pardon the intrusion, I—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Something felt amiss. Stepping to the bed, he pulled back the blanket, expecting the High Priest to be asleep. But the chamber was empty.
After a time, High Priest Dae-Hyun awoke in a dim room, barely lit save for a single flickering candle beside him. He quickly realized he was bound fast to a chair.
"Goddess Amaterasu… where am I?" he called out. He then sensed someone near him. "Who lurks there?! Do you have any conception of what you have done? Laying hands upon a High Priest of the Sun is high heresy! The Emperor's guard will tear this city to ash until you hang from the imperial pyre!"
Then he saw them — a pair of glowing yellow eyes, piercing the dark and fixed straight upon him.
The High Priest froze. The candle guttered and died, swallowing the room in total blackness. Moments later, his scream tore through the silence — and then all fell still.