The late afternoon light, filtered through the smog of the Reforge District’s industrial stacks, cast long, distorted shadows across the lower spires. It was, Mistress Solara mused, an ideal window for their operation. Any later, and the academies would have released their scholars and apprentices for the day, scattering their targets and forcing the Null-Cult forces to expend precious resources in a city-wide chase. The approaching twilight also promised an easier, more chaotic retreat once their objectives were secured.
Veridian, a Null-Cult agent whose name now only served as a designation within the organization, offered no objection to the timing. His concern lay elsewhere, a gnawing unease he couldn't quite suppress. “Apart from Master Lyraeus and Arch-Psion Valerius, I’m particularly apprehensive about Mentor Erion managing a full Psionic Manifestation out of sheer desperation. Should he achieve that, our undertaking will become… significantly more complicated.”
“A valid point, Veridian. And one we’ve accounted for.” Mistress Solara, a peak Aether-Weaver (Tier-Three) and the Thread-Warden for the Reforge District Cell, agreed, her voice a low hum against the backdrop of distant workshop clamor. “We deploy three Aether-Weavers against their two. Both of their notable cultivators are Aether-Weavers (Tier-Two). Even if Mentor Erion somehow forces a Psionic Manifestation, he would still require considerable time to fortify his physical vessel to match such a feat. Prior to that, his psionic will might touch the Aether-Weaver stratum, but his kinetic body would remain firmly anchored at the Kinetic Adept level. You, as an Aether-Weaver (Tier-Two) yourself, should be more than capable of handling such a disparity.”
Mistress Solara’s eyes, usually as placid as still pools of refined aether-oil, sharpened with a cold, almost predatory glint. She cut him off, a hint of disdain in her tone. “The man is already beyond seventy cycles. His kinetic frame has significantly waned. He poses little real threat even with a sudden Resonance Projection. Are you truly so intimidated by an old man, Veridian?”
“No, Mistress, not at all.” Veridian hastened to clarify, a flush creeping up his neck. “My concern is merely that while I am engaged with Mentor Erion, we will lack sufficient forces to manage the Sentinel Watch. They are all trained Kinetic Adepts. Our own operatives are at a comparable cultivation tier, true, but the moment the Sentinel Watch activates their Kinetic Aegis, only an Aether-Weaver can effectively counter them.”
“The probability of that scenario unfolding is statistically low,” Mistress Solara dismissed, a wave of her hand a gesture of finality. “Mentor Erion has been stagnant for decades. Do you genuinely believe he can achieve such a profound breakthrough instantaneously?” Despite her outward dismissal, she nonetheless offered a pragmatic alternative. “Conduit-Overseer Kael will manage the Sentinel Watch and Arch-Psion Valerius. He possesses the mastery to contend with both simultaneously, given Valerius is only an Aether-Weaver (Tier-Two). Your priority, Veridian, will be to swiftly eliminate Mentor Erion, then lend your assistance to Kael in dismantling the Kinetic Aegis of the Sentinel Watch.”
“Understood.” Veridian felt a surge of relief. That revised strategy was sound. A seasoned Aether-Weaver (Tier-Four) like Conduit-Overseer Kael was certainly capable of neutralizing the Sentinel Watch’s formations.
After all, Veridian himself was an Aether-Weaver (Tier-Two); there was, truly, no substantive reason for such deep-seated apprehension. Moreover, Mistress Solara’s own power exceeded his; she commanded a peak Aether-Weaver (Tier-Three) cultivation, a tier-one Thread-Warden within the Null-Cult’s Reforge District Cell.
The Reforge District, though a vital cog in Lyra’ath’s lower strata, was considered a relatively minor urban sector. It was, therefore, somewhat surprising that the Null-Cult had stationed two Aether-Weavers there. Even the district’s official leadership, comprising Archon Thorne and Sentinel-Captain Roric of the Watch, boasted only a single Aether-Weaver each.
Most of Lyra’ath’s elite Kinetic and Psionic forces were currently deployed on the distant Void-Front Wars, leaving only a skeletal defense force within the Conclave Spires themselves. The Null-Cult, by contrast, could concentrate their entire strength within the Conclave Spires, unburdened by external conflicts.
“Glory to the Primordial Echoes.” Mistress Solara murmured, her gaze distant, fixed on some unseen horizon beyond the grimy spires. Veridian quickly echoed the sentiment, his own eyes alight with a fervent yearning for the ancient, near-mythical entities.
The thought of contributing sufficiently to earn a qualification to enter the Nexus Beyond the Veil and undergo the legendary Essence Crucible, transforming from a mere human into a being aligned with the Primordial Echoes, filled him with a desperate hope. Such a transformation promised eternal life. An infinite lifespan. His eyes gleamed with raw excitement. The higher echelons of the Null-Cult had offered an exceptionally generous allocation of contribution points for this particular mission. He estimated only a few hundred more such undertakings, and he would secure his passage to the Nexus.
“Fifty cycles… I must secure that qualification within fifty cycles. Otherwise, the cycles themselves will claim me…”
Veridian had never harbored a desire to betray humanity. But the allure of eternal life was an intoxicating poison. He vividly recalled his own instructor, Master Lorian, a formidable Aether-Weaver (Tier-Nine), who had succumbed to the relentless march of age, dying quietly in his quarters. That image, the inevitability of decay even for the most powerful, had imprinted a profound fear into his very soul.
For humans, even an Aether-Weaver was typically limited to a lifespan of approximately 150 cycles. Veridian himself was already past sixty. His kinetic vitality had yet to wane significantly, but he had progressed only from an Aether-Weaver (Tier-One) to (Tier-Two) over the last ten cycles. How many more cycles would it take to reach Tier-Nine? Could he even aspire to such a pinnacle before his mortal end? He saw no path to it. His only remaining hope lay with the Primordial Echoes, the promise of true, unyielding eternal life.
“I made the right choice,” Veridian convinced himself, his expression hardening. “Humanity will never be a match for the myriad races. Without the constant external pressure of the Void-Front, the human race will simply not withstand the true onslaught of the myriad races. Our defeat is merely a matter of time. Yes, I have undeniably made the correct choice!” As his thoughts returned to the Primordial Echoes, a profound reverence settled upon his face. For beings aligned with the Primordial Echoes, a lifespan exceeding a thousand cycles was easily attainable upon reaching the Aether-Weaver tier. That, he mused, would grant him more than ample time to continue his cultivation, a progression that would ultimately lead him to his coveted eternal existence.
The 350th Year of the Conclave Era Calendar, the 18th of April.
This was the day before Ren Kai and the other scholars were scheduled to depart from the Reforge District. Tomorrow morning, they would gather, preparing for their journey under the protective escort of the Sentinel Watch and the specialists from the Lyra'ath Conclave Archivists.
The moment Ren Kai’s eyes flickered open, he started, a jolt of adrenaline spiking through him. A figure stood silently beside his cot, an unsettlingly still silhouette in the pre-dawn gloom.
“An early start, Mentor Erion,” Ren Kai managed, a dry observation to cover the abruptness of his awakening. He quickly regained his composure, mildly annoyed by his mentor’s penchant for startling people at such an ungodly hour. Mentor Erion, his face etched with the wisdom of many cycles, offered a small, knowing smile.
“Indeed, Ren Kai. At my age, early awakenings become less a choice and more an inevitability.” Mentor Erion’s voice was soft, worn smooth by time. “Rouse yourself and get some sustenance. Afterward, accompany me to the academy. Though today, you won’t be staying in my usual quarters…”
“Hm?” Ren Kai’s brow furrowed, his pragmatic mind already racing through the implications. “Mentor, is today…?”
Mentor Erion’s smile remained, though a flicker of seriousness touched his eyes. “If the Null-Cult intends to make a move, when do you suppose they would execute it? The Conclave Archivists’ detachment will arrive before this evening. At that point, the cult’s window of opportunity will effectively vanish.”
Ren Kai felt a fresh surge of alarm, though his expression remained carefully neutral. His mentor’s logic was, as always, irrefutable. If he were a Null-Cult operative, his options would be stark: strike today, or wait until after the scholars had departed, leaving the district with a significantly diminished Sentinel Watch presence. The former, a desperate gamble, was far more likely given the impending arrival of reinforcements. Thus, the cult might very well make their move today.
“It is simply too hazardous for you to remain with me,” Mentor Erion stated, his smile unwavering. “Those fanatics fear my capacity for Psionic Manifestation, however latent. Should they act, I will undoubtedly be one of their primary targets. Therefore, do not stay in my section today. Avoid the other high-tier cultivators as well. Instead, remain with the Kinetic Adept instructors. There will be specific personnel assigned to ensure your safety.”
“Mentor,” Ren Kai said, swinging his legs out of bed, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. “Are they truly audacious enough to strike directly at Astra’s Ascent Academy?”
Momentor Erion sighed, a sound heavy with the weight of years and grim understanding. “Of course. Within the Null-Cult, one finds a spectrum: some are cowards, some are driven by greed, others are utterly deranged, and a significant portion are simply brainwashed. Yet, even the most craven among them will not hesitate to draw a blade if it serves their warped objectives.”
“These individuals are… peculiar. They can be incredibly cowardly, yet paradoxically, they can exhibit a bravery that often surpasses our own.” Mentor Erion’s gaze turned distant, as if viewing the very paradox he described. “They would soil themselves with fear if we sent them to the Void-Front Wars to face the Void-Beasts and Whispering Horrors. But when confronted with their own kind, their fellow humans, they become utterly fearless. Perhaps, for them, there is nothing truly terrifying about another human. Instead, it is the alien races that are the true horrors. Thus, they exhibit no hesitation when it comes to fighting other humans.”
Ren Kai frowned, the observation resonating with his own dry assessment of the Null-Cult’s baffling patterns. Mentor Erion was correct. The Null-Cult’s behavior was consistently contradictory. They would lose all courage if deployed to the Void-Front, utterly lacking the fortitude to face truly alien threats. Yet, when it came to fomenting chaos within the Conclave Spires, they transformed into zealous, almost insane combatants. Not even the Conclave’s harsh, regular public executions seemed to deter their destructive fervor.
“So, are they merely… localized bullies?” Ren Kai pondered aloud after a moment of consideration, trying to encapsulate their strange pathology.
Momentor Erion offered a wry, knowing smile. “Not quite. We no longer afford them the dignity of being considered human, so they are certainly not ‘locals’ in any meaningful sense. But I grasp your sentiment. That is indeed their nature. Weak against external threats, yet cruel and merciless against their own. Such individuals are hardly rare. History, across every spire, every era, is replete with examples.”
“In fact, this phenomenon isn’t exclusive to humanity. It exists among all races. Once they choose to betray their own, they often become even more vicious towards their former kin, as if needing to continually prove the correctness of their heinous choice. There are even adherents among other races who have betrayed their own to follow human ideals.” Mentor Erion looked at Ren Kai, his smile deepening. “We humans, too, possess enough inherent strength and allure to attract traitors from other races who have lost faith in their own lineage.”