Chapter 112: On What Grounds?

Night settled over the Imperial Capital, casting a cold blue glow across the glass towers outside the eightieth-floor penthouse.

Inside the spacious living room, Amber sat on a plush sofa with a glowing tablet in her lap. She tapped the screen, ending an encrypted call with Veridia.

"That was Mikay," she said, looking up as Evren set down three cups of hot tea on the table. "Everything back home is running like clockwork."

Evren sat down in the armchair across from her. "How are the mines?"

"Sector One produced its highest yield of mana crystals this morning," Amber replied with a smile. "There are about forty guards stationed across Mines One, Two, and Three."

"The foundries in Sector Four are fully operational as well," she added. "And the harbor shipments are ahead of schedule."

"Good," Evren said, taking a sip of his tea. "If the Capital tries to strangle our supply lines, they’ll find out Veridia is completely self-sufficient."

Zephyra stood near the glass wall, looking out at the sprawling city lights below. Her posture was relaxed, and her hands hung easily at her sides without a single tremor. "What about the Assembly agenda?" she asked, turning toward them. "Did our contacts manage to pull the docket?"

Amber tapped her tablet, bringing up several documents stamped with the seal of the Imperial Ministry.

"Only parts of it," Amber said, her expression turning serious. "The ministry’s defense division released their preliminary telemetry, and the situation is grim."

Evren leaned forward. "Give me the short version."

"First, the Void Incursion," Amber began, pointing to a set of red sensor graphs. "Grand Arbiter Kincaid’s defense analysts confirmed that dimensional thinning is accelerating across twelve provincial sectors."

"Rifts are opening without warning, spitting out high-grade void beasts," she continued.

"Is there any sign of intelligence behind the breaches?" Zephyra asked, her scout instincts kicking in.

"None," Amber answered firmly. "The ministry’s top spatial mages ran three separate scans."

"There are no commanders, no sovereign entities, and no grand mind directing them," Amber emphasized. "It’s a completely blind, natural dimensional collapse."

"Space is simply tearing apart," Amber added. "The beasts are pouring through the cracks like floodwaters through a broken dam."

Evren nodded slowly. An unthinking natural disaster was often more dangerous than an army, because you couldn’t negotiate with it.

"If twelve sectors are under threat, the Capital should be mobilizing every guild in the Empire immediately," Evren said. "Why haven’t they declared a continental state of emergency?"

Amber let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Because the High Council is stalling," she said, scrolling through the sparse updates. "Grand Arbiter Kincaid pushed for an immediate full mobilization, but Elder Brandon Caldwell and his faction of Capital oligarchs blocked the motion."

"On what grounds?" Evren asked.

"They claim they need more economic assessments," Amber said, shaking her head. "And worse, Caldwell managed to lock the formal Assembly agenda behind closed doors."

"They sealed the docket?" Zephyra asked, her brow furrowing.

"Completely," Amber nodded. "They refused to distribute the official debate motions to any of the provincial delegations. All the public release says is that the Assembly will address ’continental defense deployment and emergency resource allocations.’"

Zephyra’s eyes narrowed. "If they’re hiding the motions until the floor opens, they’re planning an ambush. They don’t want the provincial guilds organizing a unified bloc."

"Resource allocations," Evren murmured, his voice calm and calculating. "That means they’re looking at our mana crystal mines and smelting foundries."

"Undoubtedly," Amber agreed. "Solar Crown and House Drake have strong influence over the High Council. They know we took over Sector One and Sector Four in Veridia. Whatever Caldwell is planning, he’s saving it for the debate floor tomorrow."

Evren took a slow sip of his tea, a faint, confident smile playing on his lips.

"Let them hide their docket," Evren said. "Capital oligarchs love playing games in the dark because they think money and ancient lineages give them total control."

"Whatever trap Caldwell has cooked up," he added, "he’ll have to put it on the record tomorrow in front of the entire Empire. And we won’t be caught unprepared."

Evren set his teacup down and checked his watch.

"It’s eight o’clock," Evren said, looking over at Zephyra. "Yesterday, Master Tridon promised your weapon would be ready by evening. Let’s go pick it up."

Zephyra’s eyes lit up with quiet anticipation. "Right now?"

"Right now," Evren smiled. "You’re going to need it tomorrow."

Twenty minutes later, their black armored SUV pulled into the cobblestone alley of the Artisan Quarter. The leather draft curtains of Master Tridon’s annex forge were tied back, letting the cool night air circulate into the stone workshop.

The roaring smelters from the day before were banked down to a quiet hum, leaving the workshop cast in warm shadows. Master Tridon stood behind the central anvil, using a dry cloth to polish a long, rectangular case made of dark ironwood and reinforced with brass latches.

Hearing their footsteps, the old blacksmith looked up.

His face was streaked with soot, his gray beard dusted with iron filings, but his eyes burned with fierce satisfaction.

"You’re right on time," Tridon rumbled, his deep voice echoing off the timber ceiling. "I just finished the final balance check."

Evren, Amber, and Zephyra walked up to the anvil.

"Did everything go smoothly with the core?" Evren asked.

"Smoother than silk," Tridon grinned, patting the ironwood case. "When you work with materials this pure, the metal practically sings under the hammer."

"Come here, lass," Tridon said warmly. "See your new partner."

Zephyra stepped forward, her heart beating a little faster against her ribs.

Tridon released the heavy brass clasps with a sharp click and lifted the lid. Inside, resting on deep black velvet, lay the finished weapon.

It was breathtaking.

The blade was twenty-eight inches long, forged from dark obsidian-alloy and folded with faint veins of astral star-iron. It had a sleek, double-edged profile, tapering to a razor-sharp diamond tip.

The surface was treated with a matte finish that swallowed the dim forge light, giving off zero glare.

Along the spine of the blade, thirty-two interlocking segments fit together with micro-millimeter precision, looking like a solid steel short sword to anyone standing more than two feet away.

The hilt was wrapped in textured black basilisk leather, contoured perfectly for a single-handed grip.

Embedded directly into the heavy pommel was the S-Rank Shadow Core. It sat deep within an adamantine housing, glowing with a faint, dormant violet pulse.

"Pick it up," Tridon urged softly.

Zephyra reached out with her right hand. Her fingers closed firmly around the leather grip.

The moment she lifted it, her eyes widened.

The balance was extraordinary. The center of gravity rested exactly two inches above the crossguard, making the blade feel practically weightless in her hand.

It moved as a natural extension of her arm, responding to the slightest shift of her wrist.

"How does it feel?" Tridon asked, crossing his thick arms.

"It feels... perfect," Zephyra whispered, staring down the matte black edge.

"That’s Stage One," Tridon explained, pointing to a small lever near the crossguard. "See that thumb switch above the hilt? When it’s clicked back, the internal spring-lock engages."

"The segments lock rigid, and you have a high-durability short blade capable of parrying heavy broadswords," he added.

"And when I release it?" Zephyra asked.

"Click it forward," Tridon said with a grin. "Take it out to the rear courtyard and try it on the practice posts."

They followed the old blacksmith through an arched doorway into the enclosed stone courtyard behind the forge. Several heavy wooden pell posts and iron training dummies were bolted into the flagstones.

Zephyra stepped into the center of the yard, the cool night breeze lifting her silver hair.

She took a low stance, her violet eyes locking onto a thick ironwood training post ten feet away. With a quick flick of her thumb, she pushed the switch forward.

CLICK.

Zephyra slashed her arm forward.

There was no sound of tearing metal. The thirty-two interlocking segments detached along an internal braided star-iron cable, extending instantly into a lethal, twenty-foot whip of jagged razor teeth.

CRACK!

The whip coiled around the ironwood post with blinding speed.

With a tug, the razor segments bit into the dense wood, slicing clean through the six-inch timber trunk.

The top half of the post slid off and hit the flagstones with a dull thud.

With a reverse flick of her wrist, the internal spring mechanism engaged.

The braided cable snapped back with metallic hiss, and the thirty-two segments locked seamlessly back into a rigid short blade in her grip.

Zephyra stood in the courtyard, her chest rising and falling softly.

Even without a single drop of mana flowing through her veins, the mechanical precision of the weapon allowed her to strike with terrifying speed and lethality.

Tridon let out a booming belly laugh.

"By the gods!" Tridon exclaimed. "I knew you had the hands of a master warrior, but seeing you handle that whip-blade in the flesh is something else entirely."

Amber clapped her hands with an approving smile. "That was incredible, Zephyra."

Zephyra sheathed the blade into its custom leather scabbard and walked back to Evren. "With this weapon," she said softly, "no one at the Assembly will lay a finger on you."

Evren smiled warmly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I know," Evren said. "Tomorrow morning, we show the Empire who we are."