The hall of the ASEAN Relics Summit was alive with motion, yet each movement felt calculated, like pieces shifting across a board in some quiet, high-stakes game. Kael and Sena stepped through the main archway, the white marble beneath their feet reflecting the soft glow of dozens of chandeliers. The air was thick — not with dust or heat, but with expectation.
Everywhere Kael looked, leaders and warriors stood in tight circles, speaking in low tones. Some laughed lightly, others barely moved at all, their eyes scanning the room as though searching for threats among friends.
Sena stayed close, her hand resting on the strap across her back where her chakrams hung. "These people," she murmured, "are used to seeing each other once every few years, sometimes less. Alliances fade… grudges don't."
The center of the hall was dominated by a long crescent table, where the sovereign leaders sat. Behind them, banners of their nations swayed lightly in the air-conditioned breeze.
Juan Dela Cruz stood at the center of the crescent, not seated. His voice, when it came, was deep and steady, carrying across the room without effort.
"We come together not because the seas are calm, but because the winds tell us storms are gathering. Ottalaus' reach has not yet touched these islands, but we would be fools to think it will not try."
The mention of the name made Kael's hand unconsciously tighten on the Ruyi Jingu Bang.
Around the table, the other sovereigns listened in their own ways. Suzume of Japan sat with her hands folded, her eyes closed, but Kael noticed the faint shimmer of divine fire around her fingertips — a quiet readiness. Jeong-hwi of Korea leaned forward on one elbow, his gaze sharp, the swirling ash at his feet never fully settling.
From the far right, Sri Mahadewi of Indonesia raised a brow. "You speak of shadows," she said, her voice rich with an accent Kael couldn't place. "But are these shadows real, or only fear?"
Juan Dela Cruz gave a small smile, one Kael couldn't quite read. "Fear keeps us sharp, but it is evidence that keeps us alive. That is why we share information here — not just weapons."
It was all diplomacy, Kael realized — but diplomacy sharpened like a blade.
Kael and Sena drifted toward the fringes, careful not to intrude on the formal talks. The edge of the hall was lined with smaller tables, each manned by attendants or guards of the sovereigns. Here, the mood was less restrained — warriors sizing each other up, trading boasts, sharing drinks.
A tall man in gold-feathered vambraces — Chalermchai of Thailand — caught Kael's eye and gave a nod.
"You carry something unusual," he said, his accent clipped but not unfriendly.
Kael glanced at the staff on his back. "It's seen its share of fights."
"Then maybe we trade stories later," Chalermchai said, before turning back to his drink.
Sena moved toward a side table where a young woman in pale blue robes sat alone, a flute hanging at her side. "You're Lee Jin-ah, aren't you?" Sena asked.
The Korean woman looked up, her smile polite but reserved. "And you're Sena of the Ennead's Sanctum. Your father is respected, even in our halls."
The two women spoke quietly, their words blending with the soft hum of the crowd. Kael let them be and turned his attention to the center again.
Political Currents
Juan Dela Cruz invited the sovereigns to share updates from their territories. Each report revealed hints of the bigger picture — strange disappearances in Vietnam's coastal towns, unexplained storms near Malaysia, relic traders vanishing between Singapore and Borneo.
When it was Suzume's turn, her voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of steel.
"Japan's Shinto Sect has heard whispers of forged relics surfacing in black markets. Their craftsmanship is poor, but their presence is… deliberate."
Kael felt his stomach tighten. Artificial relics. Ottalaus' fingerprints, even here.
Nguyen Bao of Vietnam was next, his Jade Seal glowing faintly as he spoke.
"Trade along the Mekong has slowed. Those who still travel speak of men with weapons that drain the strength of those they strike. We have yet to capture one alive."
Juan's jaw tightened at that. "We may have different waters between us, but the same poison drips into all of them."
An Unwelcome Gaze
Kael felt it before he saw it — the sense of being watched. He turned, scanning the crowd, but saw only fleeting glances quickly averted. Still, the feeling clung to him like smoke.
Sena returned to his side. "You felt it too?"
"Yeah," Kael said. His eyes narrowed. "Someone here knows more about why we're in the Philippines than we do."
She didn't answer, but her fingers twitched near her chakram.
After the Session
As the official talks wound down for the evening, the sovereigns retired to private quarters within the complex. The outer halls became busier, warriors and envoys mingling more freely.
Kael found himself near one of the open balconies overlooking Manila Bay. The sea was black under the night sky, broken only by the shimmer of city lights on the water.
"You stand apart," a voice said behind him.
He turned to see Cess, her Spear of Tala slung casually over one shoulder.
"Not my world," Kael admitted.
"Not yet," she said, stepping beside him. "But if you stay in these waters long enough, you'll find that the storms here… don't wait for you to be ready."
Her eyes lingered on his staff. "I know what it's like to carry something that makes people stare. But sometimes the thing they're staring at isn't the weapon."
Kael met her gaze. "Then what is it?"
She smiled faintly. "The person holding it."
Far above them, in a shadowed alcove near the rafters, a figure listened. The hood hid his features, but the faint embroidery of a rooted tree on his sleeve caught the moonlight before he turned away.