Gatekeys were difficult, expensive, and time-consuming to create, but they were not especially expensive to use. If that strained the budget, then there couldn’t be many powerful sacred artists left in House Arelius.

“Still much nicer than last time I saw it,” Eithan observed.

“Well, nothing’s on fire.”

He snuck a glance at her through his bloodline powers. The last time he’d seen her, she had suffered a blow from Reigan Shen that had made her vanish from his senses.

“If I may say, Cladia, you look even more radiant than I expected.”

She gave him a wide grin. “Compared to a spray of blood and a Remnant, yeah, I’d say I look pretty good. I’m better at restoration than I am at spatial travel, thank the heavens.”

At the end of the dirt hallway was a metal door, past which was another sealed chamber to remove their shoes and a wind construct that blew them clean.

On the other side of that chamber was a room that suited Eithan’s tastes much more.

The plush carpet was dark blue, the walls spotless and cream, the furniture finely carved and polished. A construct in the corner played soft harp music, and the runelight was gentle and warm. Plants strong in wind aura decorated the room, giving off fresh breezes.

Everything was made of cheap materials, nothing like the opulence of the Ninecloud Court, but it was all tasteful and the craftsmanship was impeccable. Eithan appreciated anyone who could remain stylish on a budget.

There were other rooms off of this one, and Eithan let his strands of awareness brush into them, taking a quick peek. This was effectively a three-story house that had been buried, and it was surrounded in such shielding that a Dreadgod might walk over them without rattling the walls. And without a chance of sensing anyone hidden inside; even Eithan’s bloodline powers couldn’t penetrate the scripts.

The staff stayed well out of the way, trying to remain invisible to the Sage’s guest, though of course that was impossible. He still appreciated their dedication.

“Spotless,” Eithan complimented Cladia.

“My people do their best.” She sighed and removed her outer robe, tossing it onto a coatrack nearby. “So why are you still an Underlord?”

Eithan considered his answer for a moment. “Fair play?”

The Sage poured herself a glass of wine using only her control over aura. “You think it’s still time for that, do you?” The glass drifted into her hand, and she took a sip.

Another glass landed in his hand, and Eithan looked into the pool of dark red. He had initially stayed at Underlord so long to avoid making Naru Huan feel threatened. Then he was waiting on Lindon and Yerin.

He wasn’t worried about his own advancement, after all.

But now that the Abidan were descending and Dreadgods were stirring…

He sighed. “Just when they caught up to me. This is going to annoy them.”

“Frozen Blade will get Yerin to Overlord,” Cladia said, reclining in a plush chair. “I don’t know about Lindon.”

“He’ll be fine. Just annoyed.”

She crossed her ankles on a footstool and watched him over the rim of her wineglass. “Do you not want to win the tournament?”

“That depends,” Eithan said, “on the highest bidder.”

They both laughed. It was refreshing, conversing with someone who could keep up with him.

She gestured to a side door, beyond which was her collection of natural treasures. When compared to the storehouse Charity kept at the Night Wheel Valley, it was painfully scarce, only two or three dozen treasures rich enough for a Lord.

“You advance, we’ll have some dinner, and then…well, you’ve seen the place. We’ll have to spend the next month hunting if we’re going to get you to Archlord.”

“Archlords aren’t eligible for the tournament,” Eithan said, opening the door, “but hunting sounds wonderful. Just a moment.”

He stepped into the natural treasure storeroom, feeling his soulfire resonate with the surrounding aura. He stretched out to the treasures he needed, striking a balance, and held his attention on them as he focused on his Overlord revelation.

He had discovered it long ago, and it hadn’t changed.

“I…see.”

It wasn’t as simple a statement as it sounded. It described who he was.

Eithan was one who saw.

He happened to know that Cladia’s Overlord revelation had been very similar. He thought about that as his chosen treasures evaporated and Overlord soulfire passed through him in a breath, refining and strengthening him.

The advancement to Overlord wasn’t as dramatic a leap as the one to Underlord, and he easily controlled the reaction to avoid losing his clothes. A good thing, too. He was fond of this outfit.

Seconds after he entered the storeroom, he stepped back out. “Sorry for the delay. Are you ready to eat?”

Mercy sat cross-legged in a shadow aura cultivation room at the heart of Moongrave. She could feel Charity pacing around the edge of the room.

“The dragon girl has harnessed power beyond her limits for victory in this competition,” Charity said. “We cannot do the same for you. Which means we are trusting you to perform.”

Mercy gulped down air, swallowing nerves. “Yes, Aunt Charity!”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes,” Mercy admitted freely. If she failed, innocent people would pay the price. Not to mention her own mother.

“Good. That will make the fifth page more difficult.”

Mercy swallowed and manifested the Book of Eternal Night.

Her Divine Treasure appeared in front of her, a book of bright violet light with concentric circles of script spinning on the cover.

With a focused effort of will, she gave it a command: “Fifth page.”

The thumb-thick pages spun, revealing more and more scripts. When the fifth page opened, the power of an Overlord filled her.

And she was drawn inside a new world.

She didn’t enter physically, though it felt like it. Her real body was still seated at the center of the cultivation room.

Each page held a mental and spiritual space created by Malice, and this one was made of nightmares.

It appeared as a vast, dark cavern. Wide openings howled in the wind, and formations of stone blocked her vision in any direction.

A heavy burden hung on her spirit, making her madra slide out of her control and hammer against her channels. Overlord power was too great for her, but she had to keep it under control.

Which made the other effect of this page so much worse.

Dread swelled in her heart as though it had been planted there. She knew that there was something behind her, breathing down her neck. Her spiritual sense warned her of danger, imminent, in every direction, growing with every second, there was something there; it was about to pounce—

Mercy kept her thoughts ordered and her breathing regular. She had trained on the Phantom Islands, a location outside Moongrave that her mother had originally created for Charity’s training. There, she was haunted by nightmares.

She had completed that training, so she was sure she could finish this one. Until the phantoms came.

The first revealed itself one finger at a time, each digit pale and rotten, as it wrapped a hand around a nearby outcropping of stone.

When it pulled itself around, showing its face with its teeth bared in a squirming smile, she lost herself to instinctive terror.