10th Day of the 2nd Earth Cycle, 2000, g.c.
Under the night sky of Gaia, Frost and I stood alone in the courtyard of Castle Midnight. Alone was a funny word, though. The Royal Player's Ball still lived behind me, muffled by black stone and distance. Bass thumped low through the doors. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed, then the sound died against the cold that Frost carried into the courtyard. Out there, beneath three moons and Gaia's glittering sky ring, it was just me, him, and the ice growing around our silence. Frost and I were locked in a stare, unsure how to begin the conversation between the two of us. Or maybe I knew exactly how I wanted it to begin.
With him leaving.
The lit joint of Elysian Trees quietly burned between my fingers as smoke trails danced upward near my face and across my nose. The flower's musty-sweet scent mixed with the cold, making each inhale hit cleaner and rougher at the same time. The ember glowed orange-red, tiny and stubborn, fighting the frost in the air like it had pride. Even with my [Temperature Libra] Skill, everything felt colder outside. Not my body, exactly. My skin wasn't freezing. My breath wasn't hurting. But the space around him carried that emotional chill people brought into rooms when they had never learned how to heal from their past.
The ice crystals slowly growing around us were just the icing on the cake.
They crawled along the courtyard stone in delicate white veins, blooming around my shoes and the rail posts in tiny jagged flowers. The frost didn't rush. It crept. Slow and pretty, like the night was trying to make his discomfort decorative. Thin vapor curled low along the floor, brushing my ankles before spreading toward the steps. Every lantern glow broke into little fractured reflections across the ice.
For a few more seconds, neither one of us spoke.
I took that moment to hit my joint again, drawing the smoke deep enough to warm my chest for half a second. Elysian Trees burned smooth, sweet, and heavy, with that floral aftertaste that made the world soften around the edges. I held the drag longer than I needed to, then exhaled through my nose. Smoke poured out in two slow streams, meeting the cold air and turning ghost-thick before rising between us.
Frost finally looked toward the Grand Hall, then turned his attention back to me. His Death's Mask hid most of his face, but those silver eyes still managed to look judgmental through the openings. The fur-collared trench coat around him rippled in the night breeze, jagged, ice-like ridges along the fabric catching moonlight. He looked like somebody had carved a man out of winter and regret.
"I didn't expect an otherworlder to show mercy to the Kurozumi. Not many Oni would have."
"Strike one."
As soon as I heard that word, I was instantly vexed.
Otherworlder.
That damn term again.
It landed colder than his aura. Sharper than the ice crawling over the stone. He said it like he was describing a condition. Like he was placing me outside of the world I had fought in, bled in, built in, and loved in. Like the castle behind me wasn't mine. Like Talasi didn't breathe easier because I existed. Like my mother hadn't raised me on these lands. Like the people inside weren't celebrating under a roof I had rebuilt, and filled with life.
I wasn't going to let him keep getting away with it.
Not in my city.
Not in my damn house.
Not in my fucking face.
I lowered the joint slightly and stared at him through the smoke.
"Stop right there. If you want to refer to me from now on, then it will be King Mikazuki or Demon Lord Xiro. Understand?"
Frost paused.
Behind that Death's Mask, I could feel him reading my face and realizing I wasn't joking. The slight shift in his body weight quietly told me he didn't like my response. One heel settled deeper into the frost. His shoulders barely adjusted under the coat. Small movements, but I had been around killers, nobles, gods, and women pretending not to be mad. I knew when silence had teeth.
The Death Oni, whom people called my father, stepped over the moment.
I don't know what else I was expecting from him. Not accountability, clearly. That would have been too festive.
"Question... Is ruling Velonica enough to satisfy you?"
I smiled a little.
Not because the question amused me.
Because I could already smell the test inside it.
"No. I plan to rule all of Gaia as its new God-King. Or maybe I'll just rid the planet of all the bad people I don't like."
The courtyard went quiet.
Even the music behind me seemed to dip under that sentence, like the castle leaned back to see what Frost would do with it. Dark clouds crossed the faces of the moons, dragging a large shadow over both of us. The silver-blue courtyard light dimmed, and Frost's mask became a pale shape floating inside the dark. The ice around us brightened by contrast, little crystals glittering like crushed glass.
Frost studied my face.
Then my aura.
I knew what he was looking for. He was hoping for a ripple of falsehood. A lie in my mana signature. Some little twitch in my soul that would tell him I was exaggerating, joking, or testing him back. But he couldn't find one. He was only welcomed with a sight of endless darkness as he looked over my aura.
I let him look.
Let him stand there and stare into the night behind my skin.
The first time [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] managed to capture a thought from Frost slipped through like a cold whisper squeezed through a locked door.
"Touched by the abyss as well. It's not so different from my own. Disturbing, if I'm honest with myself."
That was the first thought of Frost that [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] was able to record, since the Death Oni was strongly shielding his mind from my [Detect Thoughts] Skill. But hearing him be bothered by it gave me a subtle joy as I took another drag and let him sit with that image.
The smoke curled from my lips and drifted between us like a thin veil.
That was when Frost decided to crank up the severity of the topics.
"Are you familiar with the Archon of Fate?"
"Yeah. And when I see that bitch again, I'mma punch her in the mouth."
I swear, when I said that, I thought I heard a chuckle escape from behind Frost's mask.
That must have been the Elysian Trees getting to me.
The sound was too quick to trust. More breath than laugh. More disbelief than humor. Frost adjusted the weight in his stance again, glancing away for a moment toward Talasi beyond the courtyard. The cold along the stones thickened, reaching the rail in pale fingers. When his attention returned, his following comments only made the night air colder.
"You appear decently informed. Then you are also aware that Gaia is fated for destruction during the Rapture."
The word sat heavily between us. Rapture. Not the pretty kind. Not the choir-and-clouds bullshit Humans probably dressed it in. The real kind. The one that smelled like slaughter wrapped in scripture.
Frost continued, voice steady behind the mask.
"The Angels of Paradiso will enter the Lower Realms to harvest souls from Gaia and countless other worlds to fuel their army against the forces of Infernia. Not even Humans are safe from the ones they claim protect them."
The courtyard felt smaller.
Behind me, warm life kept moving. People danced, ate, flirted, lied, laughed, and drank beneath my roof. In front of me, Frost spoke about the end of worlds like he was discussing weather patterns. Paradiso harvesting souls, Infernia answering with its own monsters, Gaia trapped between realms that treated lives like food.
"Yeah, I know. I got the information firsthand from an Angel and some of it from the Archon of Fate herself. But my question is, how do YOU know about Destini and the Rapture?"
Frost's silver eyes narrowed slightly behind the Death's Mask.
"Calling her by name so effortlessly? Well, I have also met with the Archon of Fate. You see, the Prime Realm System blessed me with the [Chosen One]."
"Blessed? Is that what we're calling it now?"
"I'm the one fated to defeat a being of prophecy called Satan and rise as the Elohim of Paradiso. There is no other way to speak about it, child."
My eyes sharpened.
That last word almost did more damage to the conversation than the prophecy.
"Watch your mouth. That's your second strike."
The thought of what Frost said made me go still. The cold around us stopped being the main problem. My mind had grabbed something else and dragged it forward before I could stop it. The first thing to flash into my thoughts was the prophecy from Luda's great-grandfather, Garland Braye. The words rose in my memory like they had been waiting in a dark room.
"What was it again? When devils sleep, and the gods grow weak, the world will burn as the angels return. A new star rises to command the endless skies. The Chosen's blade leaves the Heavens divided. When Gaia teeters on the brink of destruction, the eyes of The Supreme guide the world toward peace. The Watchers of Heaven cry out in despair, as The One slays The Mark of the Beast."
The joint burned lower between my fingers.
Smoke twisted around my knuckles.
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi]'s voice moved through my thoughts with calm precision.
"With Luda's 2nd Vessel Skill being labeled [Midnoon Star: Satanael] and his previous possession of the [Mark of the Beast], both point to the idea that Frost was fated to kill him by the prophecy."
My jaw tightened.
"But that can't be true anymore. Luda no longer has that cursed Skill or sigil stamp."
Not anymore.
That mattered. It had to matter.
Because the idea of Frost being fated to kill Luda made something ugly move under my ribs. Luda wasn't some symbol to me. He wasn't prophecy fodder. Wasn't a title wearing a body. That was my brother. The nigga who fought beside me, smoked with me, laughed with me, carried his own world, and still found time to stand next to mine. If Fate thought I was going to stand around while some masked absentee father figure turned my brother into a prophecy checkpoint, then Fate had been smoking something worse than Elysian Trees. Crack cocaine.
I put the last of the joint's roach out, crushing the ember against the courtyard stone until the orange glow died with a tiny hiss.
Warm smoke and breath met the chilled air around me as I exhaled slowly. Then I made sure my silver-colored eyes met his silver eyes.
"You might not get your chance to rule the heavens. I plan to kill every Angel and Outer God in Paradiso. I've even been thinking of wiping out the Daemons and Djinns in Infernia if they act the same."
With those words, my eyes started glowing indigo.
Frost went silent.
He finally realized it wasn't bravado. Wasn't a threat thrown out because I wanted to sound big under the moons. It was a simple, dead-ass declaration. The indigo glow in my eyes painted the smoke around my face in faint blue-violet ribbons. My aura didn't flare loudly, but the darkness under it shifted. Endless. Patient. Hungry in a way that didn't need to rush. The cold around us pressed harder, but my Mana didn't retreat from it. It sat beneath my skin like a night ocean beneath ice.
Behind us, Castle Midnight was still buzzing with life.
A horn line slipped through the courtyard doors. Somebody inside laughed loud enough for the sound to break against the cold. Glasses clinked. Then the bass returned in a lazy pulse, and somewhere beneath it, a woman cheered like the night had finally remembered it was supposed to be fun.
Warmth breathed through the cracks of the castle.
And Frost stood outside all of it.
That part hit me in a way I didn't want to name. My whole house was alive behind me. My mothers was inside. My queens were inside. My brothers, sister, friends, enemies, future allies, bad decisions, free liquor, music, soul food, and smoke were all inside. A whole life I had built in a world that had tried to make me feel like a mistake.
Frost could have stepped into that warmth. Could have tried.
Could have asked something real.
Instead, he stood in the courtyard with ice growing around his boots and called me an otherworlder.
That must have been enough for him, because he released a slow exhale, then turned his back slightly, looking toward the city beyond the courtyard. This nigga started aura farming to end the conversation. And Gaia's messy ass gave him a night breeze to make his coat's bottom ripple in the wind. The fur collar lifted with the gust. The icicle-like ridges along the trench caught the moonlight. Frost mist curled around his boots. The three moons framed him like the world had decided to help him look dramatic. I hated how good it looked. This fuck nigga was born with cinematography in his blood and emotional availability nowhere in sight.
"If that's the path you plan to travel, then you should pray that one of us dies before we achieve our goals. If I meet you again, it may be on the battlefield. And I will not show mercy to the Midnight King. Even if he is supposed to be my son."
I felt that dig.
That little bitch was trying to piss me off at that point.
And it worked. Not completely, but enough.
I instantly felt the soul-weight inside of me press down hard. The heaviness that had been sitting in my chest since after the duel suddenly became denser, like somebody had stacked another moon on top of the first one. My anger started rising beneath it, hot and slow, pushing against exhaustion, grief, and that ugly little sting from hearing "supposed to be my son" like my existence was a disputed document. The frost around my shoes cracked.
A pulse of mana moved under my skin.
"If that's your play, then you'd better get a hell of a lot stronger than whatever you're hiding now. Because next time, We gon' get some real father-son bonding when I beat your ass for every birthday you missed."
Frost simply rolled his shoulders.
Like that didn't hurt.
Like none of it mattered.
"Remembering the birthday of two out of three is not that bad."
Then he vanished in a puff of icy mist.
The cold burst outward in a quick pale bloom, scattering frost crystals across the patio stones. His body blurred, then disappeared, flash-stepping out of the courtyard and somewhere into Talasi at an impressive speed. The icy mist swirled where he had stood, then thinned into nothing under the tri-moon light. Escaping with the last word.
And a new desire for me to punch him in the face.
I stared at the empty spot, jaw tight, eyes still glowing. The party pulsed behind me. The courtyard slowly warmed by a fraction. Smoke from the dead joint curled off the stone and vanished.
"Strike three."
I was left there alone, again. This time, I wasn't as happy about it.
Frost's icy mist had mostly faded, leaving thin white veins along the courtyard stone. The lanterns steadied back into warm gold, and the Royal Player's Ball kept breathing behind the doors, muffled by Castle Midnight's black walls. Bass thumped like a heartbeat from another body. Jawz Eight's lute carried a soulful rhythm through the stone, but the music couldn't reach deep enough to touch where Frost's words had landed.
My punk ass father's joke had a late landing with me as my mind finally locked down on the wording he used.
Two out of three.
That meant I had two additional siblings out in Gaia, somewhere.
Two more Oni with indigo horns.
The thought sat in my head like somebody had slipped a knife between my gray matter. Frost, bitch ass, dropped that information like a hot dagger and left before I could ask anything. No names. No ages. No locations. Just a cold little line thrown over his shoulder before he vanished into Talasi like a dramatic deadbeat with teleportation privileges.
Two out of three.
I repeated it in my head, and every time, it got worse.
It also wasn't lost on me that for the rest of our conversation, he directly avoided saying my name or title. That fuck nigga used careful phrasing, and that told me plenty about him. He could threaten me. He could call me otherworlder. He could say Midnight King with cold little distance when making battlefield promises. But he couldn't call me Xiro. Couldn't call me son without poisoning it first. Couldn't give me the smallest clean piece of recognition.
That was a choice.
And I was learning a lot about the man from every omission.
"Now I understand why Destini asked me to kill him when she met me in the labyrinth. Him being a dickhead was just a bonus. The real problem is that he's the Chosen One. He could get in the way of whatever she and Orion had planned."
My voice sounded too calm in the open air.
That was usually a bad sign.
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] reflected on everything right along with me, his presence smooth and quiet in the back of my mind.
"This prophecy of Garland Braye seems to hint at a high-probability convergence with your father."
I stared out over the courtyard, past the rails, toward Talasi's distant lanterns glowing beneath the three moons.
"Everybody wants to rule the world. You know how that shit goes."
[Midnight Star: Belial] slid into my thoughts with his usual talent for making a bad mood worse.
"There's still a chance he could spin the block and attack Luda because he originally held the [Mark of the Beast]."
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] answered him before I could, calm and precise.
"I completely removed any trace of the skill from Luda's Soul Core while we healed him in Master's [Midnight World]. There should be no remaining connection to Destini or Paradiso."
"It don't matter. If Frost ever comes for Luda or hell, anyone in my family, I will kill him."
It was a simple thought.
No trembling around it. No dramatic buildup. No lightning flashing over the city to make the declaration look pretty. Frost told me where I stood with him, and that wasn't on the same side. And anyone not on my side only had two options: to either get down or lie down.
The fact that he carried my blood didn't change the math.
"I can see why I didn't have a dad in my last life. Or maybe my RNG luck with parents is just trash. Still... I hit gold with mom. I guess not every parent can be like Vericka."
The words came out softer than I meant.
The courtyard breeze pushed at the hem of my coat, and I let my eyes drift toward the high windows of Castle Midnight. Somewhere inside, Mom was probably still handling nobles, Cierra's plea, and political nonsense while pretending she wasn't tired. Vericka Mikazuki had raised me through confusion, fear, stubbornness, and a whole lot of "what the hell is wrong with my child?" moments. She never made me feel unwanted. Never treated my weirdness like a debt I had to repay.
She didn't always understand me.
But she loved me.
There was a difference people liked to forget until they met somebody who had neither.
"If I ever have children, I plan to be everything like Vericka. And nothing like Frost."
The minor reflection helped me a little, but not much.
The cold was gone, but that weight remained.
The heaviness still sat inside my Soul Core like a dark stone in deep water. My body was fine. My aura was steady. My mana wasn't depleted. But something in me felt too full, too dense, too close to an edge I couldn't see. Frost had only made the feeling harder to ignore. Like his words had pressed down on the lid of whatever was swelling inside me.
"I gotta stop lettin' that dude fuck with my mood."
That was when I felt the almost instant presence of my favorite speedster.
Steez was suddenly standing behind me, half drunk and super relaxed.
No footsteps. No warning. Just a quick whisper of displaced air, a faint pressure shift, and baby brother pulling up like the courtyard had summoned him through pure sibling timing. He leaned near one of the rail posts with a glass of cognac in his hand, shoulders loose, heterochromatic eyes shining with that mellow drunk confidence. His braided top fade had gotten a little messier from the party, and his formal fit was still clean, though his collar sat slightly open now, like he had survived both dancing and the Nox's attention.
He looked like he was having a damn good time.
I didn't know what the drinking age was for Sociovores, but I figured that since we weren't Human, it didn't matter much. He was technically a teenager, and that was good enough for me. Especially since I was the one now writing the laws.
Steez lifted his glass a little as he approached.
"Yo, broski. I came to check on you. How are you feeling?"
I leaned my back against the rail and gave him the easiest smile I could find.
"I feel good, my nigga. I'm straight."
Steez stared at me.
Not long.
Just enough to disrespect the lie.
"Come on, Xi, don't bullshit me. It's just the two of us out here. You don't have to be Super Nigga right now. Keep it a hunnit with me."
I paused for a moment.
The liquor had him with no filters and far quicker with his tongue. I couldn't do anything but laugh. It came out of me suddenly and rough, bouncing off the courtyard stones before easing into a real smile. I respected the honesty way too much. Everybody else had been reading me carefully tonight. Steez just walked outside and fuck that.
"Okay, my nigga, damn. You saw past that mask way too easily."
He took a sip of cognac, then pointed the glass toward me like he had evidence inside it.
"Nigga, I've known you my entire life. I know when you're bullshitting and when you're dead ass."
"True. Being dead ass, I'm concerned about this heavy ass weight I feel on my spirit and body. Not even [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] can find anything wrong, but something still feels off."
Steez's face sobered a little, even through the alcohol warmth. His eyes moved over me, scanning the way brothers do when they don't have diagnostic Skills but still know when something about you ain't sitting right. He couldn't scan my Soul Core, but he could read my face better than most people.
"That's crazy, my nigga. You think you might be stressed? You think it's mental or some shit?"
"I don't know. I just know it's annoying. Almost as annoying as that bitch ass father of mine."
Steez leaned back slightly, recognition clicking in his face.
"I thought I saw him upstairs a while ago. He had the same horns as you. And wore that white mask. That mask was dope as fuck, though."
"Yeah, well, that fuckboy just told me that the next time we meet will be on a battlefield, and he's coming for my head."
Steez blinked.
His relaxed expression twisted into open offense, like Frost had broken some universal party etiquette that even drunk people respected.
"Damn. Threatening to kill your own child at their party? Frost sounds like an asshole."
"He pretty much is. A traumatized one with god dreams."
Steez took another quick sip of the cognac in his hand.
"For real? Then you're definitely his child. That shit must be hereditary."
I couldn't do anything but shake my head and laugh harder, despite myself.
That lil' drunk asshole wasn't wrong.
It was the kind of joke that should have annoyed me, but coming from Steez, it landed exactly where it needed to. He didn't try to make Frost better than he was. Didn't try to soften the threat. Didn't give me some speech about blood being sacred or fathers needing time. He just stood there, half-lit, and made the obvious connection between my own dreams and Frost's.
Rude. Accurate.
Family shit.
"You know, Steez, when I grow up, I wanna be just like you."
Steez smiled with all the effortless confidence of a man who had no business being that cool while drunk.
"You're already too cool to grow up, broski. You don't need that shit."
That one landed softer than he probably intended.
The night went still for a second around us. Not cold. Just still. The three moons hung above the courtyard, lanterns glowing warm along the rail, the music behind us growing a little brighter as Jawz found a better groove inside. I looked at my little brother and felt that weight inside me shift, not gone, but less lonely. Steez had always been there. In my life as Xiro, at least. His whole existence was tied to mine in ways neither of us fully understood yet, but I knew this much.
He was my baby brother.
No prophecy needed.
No blood test required.
We both dapped fists and pulled each other in for a quick hug.
It wasn't long or dramatic. Just a firm clasp, shoulder to shoulder. His cognac glass stayed lifted away from my coat, which I appreciated. I had already survived enough stains tonight, emotional and otherwise.
If tonight had shown me anything, it was that I had family already.
Blood and found.
And I didn't need Frost to complete anything, as my family was already perfect as is.
I threw my arm around Steez's shoulder, and we started walking back toward the double doors of the Grand Hall. The courtyard stones clicked softly beneath our shoes. As we approached the doorway, the music grew louder, more alive, leaking warmth back into the night. The smell of food and wine reached us first. Then laughter. Then the thick, familiar atmosphere of a party that had survived two public duels, a political plea, multiple horny women, and my daddy issues.
The warmth of the Ball reached my face before we crossed inside.
I glanced sideways at Steez, because mood recovery required important journalism.
"Soooo... Who was that Nox girl with the phat ass I saw you with? That lil' bitch had some booty on her."
Steez's smile turned sly, but he kept his eyes forward like he had expected the question.
"That was Jennifer's cousin, Keira. Hell, she was older than you. But my nigga..."
The sounds of our voices faded beneath the rising music and crowd noise as the doors opened wider before us.
Just two siblings, shit-talking each other about cute women.
Life was good again.
When we stepped back into the Grand Hall, the warmth was quickly followed by the music, laughter, wine, and layers of fragrances.
It hit me all at once.
The courtyard had been cold stone, tri-moon light, smoke, Frost's bullshit, and Steez's drunk honesty. The Grand Hall was life pressing both hands against my chest and shoving me back into the world. Heat from bodies. Sweetness from desserts. Braye wine. Fruit liquor. Floral oils. Elysian Tree smoke drifted from a few side rooms where someone definitely was lighting up. The lingering burn of Electric Mana had finally faded enough for the softer smells to take over, leaving the air rich and crowded in a way that would have annoyed me earlier but felt good after standing outside with my emotionally constipated father.
The addition of desserts, hope, and actual enjoyment gave the air a much sweeter taste.
Jawz Eight's lute rolled warmly beneath the other musicians, his Half-Ogre hands making that instrument sing like it owed him money, but he was willing to forgive the debt. The beat had this mellow bounce now, somewhere between a slow groove and a party trying not to pass out. Hand drums kept a soft pocket. Strings slid around the melody. A mana pipe added little smoky notes that curled through laughter and conversations. People were still dancing, but with a looser rhythm, less performance, and more survival. The drunk ones were moving with devotion and no technique.
I paused near the doorway for half a second, trying to rid myself of the last bit of cold from Frost's words.
But after looking around the room, letting my eyes travel over the people beneath my roof, it became tremendously easier to push that cold back where it belonged. Talasi locals laughed with nobles who had been stiff as corpses hours ago. Servants moved with smiles instead of fear. Clan heads sat with plates full of food, talking like enemies who had temporarily remembered they liked seasoning. A few guards on break leaned near the walls, sipping sweet drinks like they had forgotten they were supposed to look intimidating. The sight of people having a good time and not pretending did wonders for the soul.
I loved seeing my people enjoy themselves.
Even if half of them were drunk, horny, and one bad compliment away from fucking on the dance floor.
I glanced over and saw some women sitting on the big, fluffy, soft blue sofa.
Queen Sayaka Kurozumi, Chomei Sol, and Niomi Aylin.
All three were gathered together, having a rather interesting girly conversation. The sofa looked deep enough to swallow a tired noble whole, covered in blue velvet cushions with silver embroidery shaped like small crescent moons. Sayaka sat with perfect posture despite the relaxed setting, black and red gown arranged around her like dark petals, her red flowers still pinned in her hair. Chomei lounged beside her with one leg crossed, blue hair spilling over her shoulder, glasses catching the lantern light. Niomi sat on the other side with elegant calm, looking like a moonlit model who knew too many secrets and had made peace with being fine as hell.
From a distance, my [Super Hearing] caught enough pieces of it.
Past lovers. Favorite types of cute plushies.
New ways to grow fruit through controlled mana-rich soil.
I honestly had no idea how they floated into each of those subjects, but they did it with elegance. Sayaka was saying something about plush foxes being overrated unless handcrafted, which made Chomei explain that a plushie's cuddle value mattered more than realism. Niomi somehow then took the topic to soil texture for mana-rich fruit, because apparently, women could jump from romance to agriculture with shared ADHD. It sounded insane from the outside. But the three of them looked fully locked in, nodding, smiling, and occasionally covering their mouths with delicate amusement.
To the right of them, Jennifer Nox and Sumo Robins were chatting with Victorya Umbra and Alex Mikazuki.
That little detail caught me.
Alex didn't introduce himself as a Zo, which I thought was also interesting. Maybe he meant nothing by it. Maybe he meant everything by it. Either way, I heard family pride in the name, and I filed it away in the warm drawer inside my chest.
He stood with his cup in hand, white-and-red suit still clean despite the night's chaos, red wings tucked behind him while his white face markings glowed faintly under the silver-blue lantern light.
They were discussing Velonican cryptids and old urban legends.
Jennifer seemed delighted by every disturbing rumor. Her fan rested half-open against her lips, pinkish-red eyes bright as Sumo talked with both hands, his drink nearly spilling every time he remembered another detail. Victorya listened with quieter curiosity, her pale face soft under the ballroom glow, black lipstick giving her thoughtful expression a gothic bite. Alex leaned slightly forward like someone had just mentioned the possibility of punching folklore.
Sumo's voice carried with coastal warmth.
"Something was crawling under Kymberli's docks for three month-cycles. Fishermen said it had too many hands and no face, but it would knock under the boats at night like it wanted permission to come aboard."
Jennifer's eyes lit up.
"How rude. A faceless dock creature with manners? That is terrifying and charming."
Victorya tilted her head, black glasses slipping a fraction down her nose.
"Did anyone see it clearly?"
Sumo laughed, deep and easy.
"No one who stayed sober enough to tell the story properly."
Alex's interest sharpened immediately.
"But has anyone seen the monster lately?"
That nigga heard "too many hands" and wanted a location.
I loved my cousin, but he was just as much a battle junkie as me.
Lynnette Judas, Krystal Sento, and Danni Thicc were all dancing together while Jawz kept up the tunes for the remainder of the night.
The three of them had found a little pocket near the edge of the dance floor, where the black marble still held faint violet lines from the earlier arena. Lynnette moved with clean footing, each step balanced and deliberate, purple ponytail bouncing behind her shoulders as her black dress flashed iridescent accents beneath the lanterns. Krystal danced with an easy grace, her body following the rhythm with controlled joy, not trying to draw every eye but catching plenty anyway. She had that quiet confidence that made simple movement look better than most people's rehearsed routines.
Danni Thicc was doing something else entirely.
Her dancing reminded me of [Midnight Star: Belial]'s statement about twerking, because she was definitely more focused on hip movement and ass shaking. That woman's body understood percussion better than some drummers. It was refreshing to see, actually. I forgot how much I love to see women throw that ass. [Midnight Star: Belial] didn't even say anything. He didn't need to. I could feel that demonic bastard nodding somewhere inside my soul like a proud uncle at a graduation. Yeah, the Ball had turned out pretty well.
Even Steez gave me my credit for it.
He stood beside me near the doorway, glass still in hand, his buzz making his smile slower and his honesty faster. His eyes moved around the Grand Hall, taking in the dancing, the laughter, the desserts, the clan politics temporarily drowned in wine, and the sheer fact that nobody had died on the floor yet.
"You know, broski, you might actually be good at the ruler thing. If anything, you can throw a party."
I grinned, letting the warmth of the room stretch through my chest a little.
"Hahahaha. Of course I am. Your big brother is the greatest of all time."
Steez looked at me with a nod, respecting the arrogance.
A few more hours went by as Gaia crawled deeper into its thirty hours of nighthalf.
Midnight was still ten hours away, but the Royal Player's Ball had already been alive for five. Five hours of music, politics, duels, flirting, drinking, dancing, smoking, and expensive fabrics fighting for their lives. Many nobles were drunk as fuck and starting to take off the extra layers of clothing if they had any. Jackets had found chair backs. Sleeves were rolled up. Gloves had disappeared. One older noblewoman had abandoned her high-heeled shoes near a sofa and was walking around barefoot like she was sick of her heels.
A few guests were taking naps on the myriad of furniture placed along the walls.
One minor lord had fallen asleep upright with a dessert plate balanced on his stomach like a tribute offering. Two young Celestial women were curled together on a couch, one of them still holding a glass by the stem with unnatural drunk dedication. A merchant's son was asleep with his mouth open while a servant quietly placed a folded napkin over his chest like a blanket.
I was starting to get flashbacks of my college parties.
Different world, same results.
Rich people, poor people, monsters, humans, college kids, nobles. Give folks food, liquor, music, and enough time, and eventually somebody was sleeping wrong while somebody else tried to dance like their knees only knew the groove.
That was when Jojo King spotted me by myself and waved me over.
When I arrived at him, he was standing next to the five-foot-three-inch cutie that was Beatrix Ashendor.
This was my first time seeing the High Elf up close, and I could see why she had such a fan club among the men. Fair skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, delicate features, and that polished, noble posture that made her look like she had been raised around silverware with too many rules. She carried herself like someone who knew how to stand beside power without looking beneath it. Petite, clean, expensive, and dangerous in that High Elf way where every smile came with a footnote.
But fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes wouldn't be enough to sway me.
Not while I was swimming in a sea of bad bitches.
Jojo looked comfortable beside her, a glass of whiskey in hand and that beard of his shining like it had been blessed. Beatrix stood just a little too close to him. Close enough to notice. Not close enough to make it undeniable unless somebody wanted to start trouble. Her fingers hovered near her glass, but her eyes kept taking small vacations toward Jojo's beard.
Jojo greeted me with an easy smile.
"Yo, Lord Xiro, it's good to see you. This has been a marvelous social gathering."
I pointed at him with my drink.
"Jojo... You're a part of the Wolfpak, now. You don't have to call me lord, my nigga."
He chuckled under his breath, looking slightly embarrassed but not ashamed.
"My bad, big dog. Still takes some getting used to. Allow me to introduce you to the People's Governor of Lashun, Beatrix of the Ashendor Clan."
I turned my attention to the short High Elf in front of me, giving her a polite nod.
"Good evening, Ms. Ashendor. I didn't expect Elven Royalty to be so far from home, leading a free city in another country."
Beatrix's smile was smooth enough to sell knives in a church.
"I can see you're well informed, Lord Mikazuki. While I still carry my family's surname, I am no longer a part of the royal court of Aridor. I'm a woman who earned her freedom through some tough times."
When she stuck her hand out, I saw it.
The barcode tattooed on her wrist.
She had once been a slave.
That shifted the moment, but only beneath the surface. Her hand stayed steady. Her posture remained noble. Her smile never cracked. She presented the wrist like it didn't still carry a history carved into skin and ink. I gently shook her hand as she greeted me with smooth manners, her fingers cool against mine.
But her face carried this slight hint of fear.
Subtle.
Repressed.
Carefully performed.
The strange thing about it was that I couldn't actually smell any fear coming from her. Fear had this musk to it that made it feel sticky, sharp under perfume, like sweat and survival instincts fucking in a locked room. Beatrix didn't smell like that. She smelled refreshed. Poisonous. Crisp florals over something bitter and green. Like a beautiful garden hiding venom under dew. That caught my attention instantly. She reminded me of an actor in a horror movie pretending the monster was in the room before the director yelled cut. That little bitch had a great mask.
Beatrix lifted her chin slightly, her voice as polished as the glass in her hand.
"I've enjoyed my time here at your wonderful home. I do hope the city of Talasi and the city-state of Lashun can become great allies for the country of Velonica."
I quickly chuckled.
"All of Velonica will fall under my rule soon. So there's no need to worry about being allies when we will all be one."
Beatrix went Frost-quiet on me.
I'm talking mute.
The silence hit so clean that even the music seemed to step around it. Her face didn't move much. The smile stayed. Her eyes didn't widen. Her shoulders didn't tense in a way most people would catch. But that fine-controlled aura of hers flared some static, a tiny irregular tremble beneath the poisonous freshness of her presence. That validated my thoughts of her pretending. She didn't like that answer.
Not one bit.
While her face didn't betray her, that silence did.
Even Jojo noticed, as I watched him watch the entire exchange with her. His expression shifted slightly, not enough to embarrass her, but enough to tell me he caught something too. Jojo had been around Humans and their political games long enough to smell when a room-friendly sentence became a knife under the table.
He cleared his throat gently, stepping into the tension before it grew legs.
"Umm... Xiro, later tonight I need to speak with you about something important. Privately."
I gave him a small nod.
"Say less. We'll chop it up then."
Before the moment settled too heavily, Lene Lakisha approached me from my side.
The kitsune village chief moved with a soft, confident elegance that made every step look planned for a painting. Four black tails swayed behind her with lazy control, each one moving like it had its own rhythm but still answered to her hips. Her caramel-brown skin glowed under the ballroom lanterns, warm and smooth, while her violet eyes carried the sharp sparkle of a woman who watched more than she said. Her dress hugged her figure in ways that told me tailors on Gaia deserved a holy day. The fabric shifted with each step, teasing curves, catching light, and failing at hiding the shape of that ass.
A nigga would have to be blind, dead, or lying to himself not to notice it peeking from under that dress.
She was the definition of trouble at first sight.
[Midnight Star: Belial] came alive inside my skull with the enthusiasm of a sinner at a revival.
"Got damn, she got a phat ass!"
[Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] followed with the driest correction imaginable.
"Respectfully."
"Somewhat respectfully."
Lene stopped with a small bow, her tails settling behind her in a fan of dark softness.
"Good evening, Your Majesty. You're quite the busy man, even at your own soiree."
"Well, you know they say a good host is never a still host."
Her lips curved.
"A charmer to boot. I'm Lene Lakisha, Your Majesty. Village Chief of Eclectic, Velonica."
"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lene. I'm glad to see that Northern Velonica is still growing villages. Any village strong enough to grow during unstable times is worth paying attention to."
That put a smile on the four-tailed fox-woman's face.
There was almost a new sparkle in her violet eyes. Not just flattery either. Recognition. Relief, maybe.
"I am so glad to hear that, m'lord. It is often easy for royalty to forget the smaller lands."
"So, I couldn't help but notice the Lakisha surname. Lakisha is normally used by clanless, unmarried kitsune."
Lene's smile shifted into a bashful curve as one of her tails flicked behind her.
"Your Highness, you're embarrassing me when you state it like that."
"Oh shit, my bad. I mean no disrespect, it just caught me off guard. You know you're quite gorgeous. I just couldn't understand why clanless."
Her eyes narrowed playfully, and the sparkle in them became trouble.
"Now you're flirting with me? All of this from a hello?"
"Damn, you're right. I saw a big butt and almost lost my mind. I gotta do better."
Lene giggled, making her booty jiggle as the silk enhanced the motion.
That was not fair. Not remotely fair.
The woman laughed, and the dress decided to give me a visual demonstration of why nations went to war. Her tails swayed, her hips shifted, and that caramel fox body moved with soft, dangerous rhythm. Somewhere inside me, [Midnight Star: Belial] started comparing the asses from throughout the night.
Lene's giggle faded into a more thoughtful smile.
"You know, Talasi has become a story in the northern settlements. Some people think it's a miracle to still be standing. Some see it as a warning of a future for bigger towns. I came to decide which one was true."
"And what did you decide, Ms. Lakisha?"
Her violet eyes held mine.
"Miracles and warnings can share a bed."
"You don't say..."
I couldn't help but smile.
That sly lil' bitch was good.
I liked her attitude, but she was definitely trouble. Not loud trouble like Luvina. Not knife-in-the-dark trouble like Beatrix. Lene had that soft, convincing trouble. The kind that smiled, listened, remembered everything, and made you think the conversation was harmless until you realized she had walked you into a dark place.
That was when she reached between her breasts and pulled out her Midnight Invitation.
The movement was smooth, casual, and criminally effective. Her fingers slipped into the dress's neckline and pulled out the black-violet invitation card, its surface glossy beneath the ballroom light.
The edge of the card was glowing with a soft lavender light, like twilight caught in a paper kiss.
And it instantly changed the air. Not loudly. But enough for me.
Thin lines of Spatial Mana crawled over the surface, barely visible to anyone without the right senses. The sigil I had placed inside the invitations had awakened, calling the chosen guests forward without saying the words aloud. A private doorbell for the next part of the night. The part where the Ball stopped pretending it was only political and started giving the grown folks what they really showed up hoping to find.
Lene looked down at the card, then back to me.
"I've been wanting to ask about this. It started doing this a few minutes ago, and I don't know what it means."
I instantly remembered the hour.
The Royal Player's Ball was fun, but it was time to wrap it up. The chosen invitations were already waking up. Around the room, if I looked carefully, I could see little lavender pulses hidden in pockets, sleeves, clutches, and cleavage. The card in Lene's hand breathed with soft light, quiet but insistent.
I looked Lene directly in the eyes and grinned wickedly.
"Looks like the Royal Player's Ball is coming to an end. But the night is only just beginning."
[End of Chapter]