Golden ginkgo leaves drifted onto the chessboard, following the wind's trajectory.
The sword-bearing youth sat rigidly on a cushion, intently studying the board's layout. Not until the third leaf landed did he raise his head to meet his opponent's gaze.
The man leaned lazily against a tree trunk, half-lidded eyes concealing lightning-like intensity beneath his carefree demeanor.
"Checkmate?"
Yanqing scrutinized Jing Yuan's contemplative expression, suspecting the general might be plotting another chess piece theft to escape impending defeat.
"Worry not." Jing Yuan plucked a piece from the board, his movement scattering the ginkgo leaves. "Merely reminiscing... It's been ages since I last heard Nightless's unsheathing song."
"Nightless?" Yanqing murmured, "That masterless blade?"
"Ah, Nightless..." Jing Yuan's eyes glazed with fleeting nostalgia. "Quite the tale."
"General!"
As Jing Yuan departed, he casually tossed a stolen chess piece back onto the board.
"You took a piece again!"
"Strategic redeployment," came the laughing retort. The general's gaze lingered skyward, as if piercing through cosmic veils to witness that obsidian blade's awakening once more.
Nearby, a petite pink-haired figure materialized exactly as predicted.
"Fu Xuan. Expected."
"You know why I'm here."
"Naturally. Nightless's awakening resonates through divination." Jing Yuan nodded. "Why doubt your own calculations?"
Fu Xuan's fist clenched. "This seat... refuses to believe."
Refuses to trust.
...
The sword Nightless.
Forged yet unfinished by the legendary craftsman Yingxing, its pitch-black blade resembled firewood kindling. The dragon-patterned hilt remained colorless until bathed in enemy blood.
Dan Heng recognized its kinship with his own Cloud-Piercer. Both weapons had accompanied his exile from the Luofu, their origins shrouded in mystery.
The masterless blade appeared at his doorstep one night with a disembodied command: "Deliver this to its destined wielder."
No explanation. No sender.
From the moment Dan Heng saw Anming, dissonance prickled his senses. It crystallized when he noticed the young man's empty hands while Stelle wielded her bat.
He needs a blade.
Without conscious decision, Dan Heng retrieved the long-sealed sword case from the Express archives. When he hurled Nightless toward Anming, it felt like completing an equation left unsolved for millennia.
Anming's grip on the hilt sparked recognition deeper than memory. The blade drank darkness itself, its edge swallowing moonlight until—
Blood Rage: Tier 1.
A crescent of lunar radiance split the platform. The Doomsday Beast's roar died mid-snarl as its massive form collapsed, a glowing scar bisecting its torso.
March 7th's bow clattered to the ground. "I... really need to sleep earlier..."
Stelle stared dejectedly at her bat. "So... you're the protagonist?"
Himeko sighed, summoning orbital lasers to confirm the kill. "Children these days..."
Anming stood frozen, phantom memories swirling—a pink-haired girl weeping soundlessly, her face obscured by mist.
"System! You bastard!" He cursed the absent entity. "Zero after-sales service!"
March adjusted imaginary glasses dramatically. "I see through your scheme! Playing humble writer to infiltrate us? Diabolical!"
"Wait, what scheme—"
"When's Succubus Stelle coming out?" The self-proclaimed Aeon nodded solemnly.