Side Story Two

Holy Moon Empire, top of the White Tower, Dome Council Chamber.

Cold moonlight filtered through the massive arched stained-glass windows, carving out geometric light and shadows that fell upon the polished obsidian long table and five high-backed stone seats.

Lilian Vesemir sat at the end of the long table, perched upon the seat belonging to the supreme ruler of the Empire. She had changed out of her casual clothes and donned the Silver Moon Star Gown, the symbol of supreme imperial power. Its intricate hidden patterns flowed with a mithril-like luster under the moonlight.

Her silver-white hair was held up by a small, exquisite Laurel Crown. A few stray strands fell, brushing against her expressionless profile. Her crimson eyes reflected no emotion.

On either side of the long table, five figures were hidden in the shadows of the high-backed stone seats like five silent statues. They were the members of the Supreme Council, the true foundation of the Empire’s power and the witnesses of its history.

Six people remained silent.

The silence lasted long enough.

Finally, from the first seat on the left, an aged voice broke the quiet. “Your Majesty, your recent private visit to Opas was brief, but upon your return… your aura seems different.”

Clearly, they had known about Lillian’s secret escape for a long time. However, as mere subjects, it was naturally not their place to say much about such matters.

The speaker was “The Code” Gregory.

Lillian did not even blink. She simply turned her gaze calmly toward the source of the voice in the shadows. “I have had some realizations, but they are not worth mentioning.”

Her voice was cool and steady, echoing through the empty hall.

“Realizations?” Across the table, a slightly shrill voice with a metallic rasp sounded. It was “Finance” Malcolm. “Realizations that could fade the century-long gloom and sharp pain haunting Your Majesty’s aura must be extraordinary. I only wonder if these realizations… are related to certain Old Shadows that should have been thoroughly buried in the dust of history?”

On the right, a gentle and peaceful yet pressuring female voice added, “One hundred years ago, Lord Protector Jiang Ming committed suicide in the Mirror Water Prison. There is ironclad evidence of this in the Shadow of Glory archives.”

This was “The Secret Keeper” Elizabeth, the current leader of the Shadow of Glory.

“However,” Gregory’s voice rang out again, slower and heavier, each word sounding like a hammer striking the obsidian table, “about thirty-six standard hours ago, toward the Opas Lower City, a ripple of the All-Construct authority was detected. Its purity and characteristic patterns were identical to the power of the Lord Protector recorded in the archives.”

The five gazes in the shadows focused on Lillian’s face like five invisible probes.

“Your Majesty,” “Iron Fist” Claude, a figure who looked like a steel tower even while sitting, spoke in a low voice, “you were in Opas at that time. How do you explain this?”

The last one, “Stargazer” Alphonse, spoke with a voice as ethereal as if it came from beyond the heavens, yet it pointed straight to the heart. “The threads of fate have suffered an unexplainable and violent disturbance. The trajectories of the stars point to a coordinate that should have been extinguished. Your Majesty, what are you hiding? Or rather… whom did you see?”

Lillian finally moved.

She lifted her eyelids extremely slowly, her gaze like cold rubies as she swept across the five directions in the shadows one by one.

There was no fear, no urgency to explain, only a bottomless calm belonging to a sovereign. Beneath that calm lay a heart-palpitating, absolute authority.

The Laurel Crown on her head began to flicker with purple light. In the next second, absolute power suppressed the room like falling stars.

“I did, indeed, perceive that fluctuation,” she said. Her voice was not loud, but it instantly quelled all invisible questioning, as clear as ice beads falling onto a jade plate.

The council chamber became so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

“I also know what that fluctuation signifies,” she continued. “It signifies that some ‘conclusions’ from 100 years ago might have been reached too hastily. It means that certain ‘existences’ that should have remained silent might return.”

The auras in the shadows fluctuated slightly.

“But,” Lillian’s tone shifted. A piercing cold light suddenly erupted from her crimson eyes, overshadowing even the moonlight outside the window. “This does not mean that you, or any force in the Empire, have the right to investigate, to disturb, or to attempt to redefine that existence!”

Her voice remained steady, yet it carried a majesty that could freeze the soul.

“No matter where that fluctuation came from, no matter whose reappearance or echo it represents, from this moment on, it is classified as the Empire’s highest taboo, codenamed ‘Old Shadow.’ All investigations, traces, and contact attempts are to be suspended indefinitely starting now. All relevant intelligence is to be sealed in the deepest depths of the White Tower. Access permissions are permanently frozen for everyone except me.”

“Your Majesty!” Malcolm’s voice was filled with disbelief. “That could be the Lord Protector! If he truly… returns, what would that mean for the Empire? You know the risks and opportunities involved! We have the right—”

“You have no right,” Lillian interrupted him coldly, her gaze stabbing into the shadows of the treasury official like a blade. “The Empire has no right either. That is my Old Shadow, an unfinished chapter between me and the past. How it is handled, and when it is handled, will be decided by me, and me alone.”

She leaned back slightly against the imperial throne, the moonlight outlining a lonely and inviolable silhouette.

“I know what you are worried about. You worry that a ghost of the past will disturb the current order, that unresolved grievances will bring a new storm, and that my… private feelings will affect the Empire’s judgment.” The corners of her mouth curled into a mocking arc. “Put away your worries, and put away your pathetic curiosity and calculations.”

Her gaze swept the room again, emphasizing every word.

“Regarding the Old Shadow, you only need to remember one thing. It is the only explicit command I am issuing to you and the Empire.”

“Do not seek him.”

Those four words were like a frozen decree, etched into the cold air and the obsidian table.

The council chamber fell into a deathly silence.

The shadows of the five councilors seemed to solidify. They felt the uncompromising determination in the Empress’s words. It was not just an order; it was a warning to draw a line. That was Lillian’s absolute forbidden zone. Anyone who touched it, regardless of status, would have to face her wrath.

After a long time, Gregory’s aged voice sounded again, with less interrogation and more of a complex sigh. “Your Majesty, even if it is… Lord Protector Jiang Ming? You would still do this?”

Lillian did not answer immediately. She turned her head and looked at the cold holy moon outside the window. Deep within her crimson eyes, a glimmer flickered—a mixture of a century of pain, the shock of something lost and found, and a deep, unspeakable emotion.

The thoughts that she hadn’t been able to fully put into words on the hospital ship now transformed into the hardest armor and the most resolute barrier.

“Precisely because it might be him,” she looked back, her voice soft as a sigh yet heavy as a mountain range, “is why it is forbidden even more.”

She stood up, her Silver Moon Star Gown brushing against the cold stone seat. She left one final sentence, both an explanation and an ultimatum.

“His road—if he is willing to walk it, he will walk it himself. The Empire’s road is led by me. Until I determine if the two roads will intersect, and in what manner… anyone who unauthorizedly spies on, contacts, or even attempts to use the Old Shadow—”

She paused, the cold light in her crimson eyes like a starburst.

“—will be viewed as an act of treason and a declaration of war against me personally and the supreme imperial power of the Holy Moon Empire.”

With that, she stopped looking at the five silent shadows and turned to leave the Dome Council Chamber.

A long time passed before a long sigh dissipated into the cold moonlight within the hall.

***

Elsewhere, inside another chamber.

There was no moonlight here, only a few floating magic crystals emitting a steady, pale cold light, barely illuminating the figures sitting around a heavy oak round table.

Most of them wore dark cloaks to hide their identities, their faces blurred in the shadows of their hoods.

In the center of the round table, a briefing transcribed with special magic floated. The flowing light and shadows of the text were a preliminary analysis report regarding the abnormal fluctuation of the All-Construct authority captured in Opas not long ago.

“…The comparison results of the fluctuation characteristics are beyond doubt. Even the youngest among us should have felt that kind of dominating tremor in our childhood,” a voice said, raspy and low, like grinding sand. “Lord Protector Jiang Ming… he really might be back.”

“It is not a possibility; he is!” another slightly shrill voice retorted, fingers tapping the table with a dull thud. “The Empress’s reaction is the best proof! ‘Do not seek him’? Hmph, what a pathetic and powerless ban. It precisely exposes her guilt and… that ridiculous old sentiment!”

“The focus is not on the Empress’s ban or her old sentiments,” a third voice said, more calm and rational. “The focus is on what it means for all of us if the Lord Protector truly returns, and… if he still holds a grudge regarding the ‘end’ from 100 years ago.”

This sentence caused the temperature in the secret room to drop even further.

“It means a reckoning.”

“The reforms he triggered back then almost uprooted us!” the shrill voice said with suppressed anger. “Those commoners almost thought they could really ride over our heads! It took 100 years of time to finally erase and distort his influence, even turning it into usable legendary symbols… If he returns, everything will go back to the starting point, or even worse! The people will remember the justice he promised, and the lingering poison will stir again!”

“The Empire does not need a second sun, especially a sun that might burn itself and us as well,” the calm voice summarized. “While the Empress’s sun is cold, at least the order is stable and the interest patterns are clear. The Lord Protector’s is… too uncontrollable.”

After a moment of silence, a person who had not spoken before suggested, “Since he is uncontrollable and a massive hidden danger… why not stifle him before he shines again? Although Opas is chaotic, it is not as if we have no power to infiltrate it. An accident, a conflict—let this returning legend of old truly and completely meet his end.”

“Assassination?” the raspy voice mused. “The risk is extremely high. The Empress’s ban is no empty boast; she will surely be watching closely. Once it fails, or if any trace points back to us… we all know the Empress’s wrath.”

“Are we just going to sit back and do nothing? Wait for him to gather strength, or be taken back under the Empress’s wing for another purge like the one 100 years ago?” the shrill voice argued. “Sometimes, risk is a necessary price!”

The sounds of the argument echoed low in the secret room, filled with anxiety, calculation, and cold killing intent.

Just then, an inconspicuous side door by the round table slid open silently. Inside was not a passage, but a smaller, darker inner chamber.

There were no tables or chairs in the inner chamber, only three simple stone stools arranged in a triangle.

Three figures sat on the stone stools.

As the argument about assassination in the outer room grew intense, the figure sitting on the top stool in the inner chamber slowly raised a hand. Instantly, the argument outside ceased.

All gazes turned toward that small door with reverence and trepidation.

An aged, peaceful voice sounded.

“Assassination is the final resort of fools and the desperate. To deal with an existence that once reached the peak of the All-Construct and has now returned in an unknown state, it is even more utterly stupid.”

The people in the outer room held their breath.

“Then how should we respond, Your Excellency?” the raspy voice asked respectfully.

“The key lies in the fact that the throne of the All-Construct authority… is currently empty,” the aged voice said. “Jiang Ming returned the crown.”

Another figure in the inner chamber added, “Currently, the throne of the All-Construct is vacant, and we know that only a King can oppose a King. We can cultivate a King belonging to us.”

“We would then have the capital to contend with him, or even check the Empress. A New King belonging to us is far more valuable and safer than assassinating an uncontrollable legend of old.”

A light of realization dawned in the eyes of those in the outer room.

“But the All-Construct authority… how difficult is that? Who is the candidate? And how do we cultivate them?” the shrill voice raised practical difficulties.

The aged voice at the top seemed to chuckle softly. “The Empire has accumulated countless resources in the darkness over 100 years. Candidates… there will always be some. There are countless people with extraordinary talent but humble origins who long to change their fate.”

“Then why not let our God-Enlightened advance directly?” someone outside asked in confusion.

“That would be too obvious,” the aged voice replied. “It would attract the Empress’s attention. The Empress is no fool.”

“As for how to cultivate them,” an ethereal voice rang out, “history can be written, and legends can be molded. When resources, opportunities, rivals, and even necessary sacrifices are presented to a person at just the right time, the path of a King will naturally be paved. What we must do is guide, invest, and ensure that the one who finally takes that seat is a pawn on our chessboard.”

A new silence fell over the secret room.

“So, the resolution is?” the raspy voice finally asked.

In the inner chamber, the three figures seemed to exchange invisible thoughts.

The aged voice, acting as the representative, set the final tone, each word like a brand.

“Abandon direct hostile actions against the Old Shadow to avoid provoking the Empress prematurely and drawing fire to ourselves.”

“Start the New King Project. Use all controllable resources to secretly search, screen, and invest in potential talents within the Empire’s dark side and gray areas.”

“The Empire’s future cannot be tied to an emotional Empress or a dangerous Old Shadow. We need a King who is truly rational and fits our interests.”

“Dismissed. Go and prepare. Wait for further instructions.”

The figures in the outer room rose silently, bowed slightly toward the inner chamber, and then vanished one by one as if merging into the shadows.

Silence returned to the secret room, with only the pale cold light of the crystals reflecting off the empty round table and the closed small door.

Behind the door, in the inner chamber, the three beings shrouded in the deepest shadows remained seated.

“The risk is still immense,” the ethereal voice whispered.

“But the gains are enough to overturn the chessboard,” the aged voice responded.

“The vacant throne must be filled. If not by him, then by our own. Let it begin—this silent race for the King.”