He snapped his fingers. A tattooed girl with glowing green eyes approached, holding a metal scroll sealed in bone clasps.
"This is an invitation," he said. "To The Hollow Banquet. A gathering of power, held beneath the Black Spine. Only those who rule—or will rule—are allowed inside. No masks. No lies. Just truth… and opportunity."
Asher took the scroll, feeling the seal's subtle hum. "And if we decline?"
"Then you walk out, and we forget this meeting. For now."
Valeris spoke calmly. "And if we come?"
"Then you'll learn who truly governs the shadows of this world."
This chapter is updated by Novel~Fire. (n)et
He stepped back, disappearing into the shivering portal behind him. The others followed, vanishing like smoke drawn back into the abyss.
Veyra was the first to speak. "They didn't try to fight."
"They wanted to measure us," Asher replied. "And now they know enough to be wary."
Valeris glanced down at the scroll, then forward toward the heart of the Black Spine. "The Hollow Banquet. That's no gathering—it's a trap for the ambitious. But…"
She looked up, violet eyes gleaming.
"…it's exactly the kind of place where ancient enemies and hidden relics gather in the same room."
Asher smiled faintly. "Then we'll attend. As ourselves."
"Unmasked?" Veyra asked.
Asher and Valeris both nodded.
The air around them shifted again as they continued deeper into the criminal sector, the ancient bones of the Leviathan behind them now casting long shadows. Asher stored the scroll carefully within his robes. Though silent, it thrummed against his chest like a heart refusing to die.
The streets became more refined—less erratic chaos, more controlled rot. Here, the powerful made their nests. The Syndicate's influence was thickest in these parts, and their operatives no longer hid in plain sight. They lounged in shaded corners, leaned against cursed monoliths, or watched from towers grown out of bone and dark iron, all with the same hollow-eyed calm of people who had long forgotten fear.
Yet no one interfered.
They had been marked now—as guests.
Valeris slowed as they passed a twisted mural carved into black stone. It depicted an ancient dragon in chains, bleeding onto a battlefield littered with the broken remains of divine beasts and mortal armies alike. A title ran below in runes older than the World Language: "Feast of Sovereignty: The First Devouring."
Veyra stared at it, her expression unreadable. "They… glorify it. The fall of dragons."
"They do," Valeris whispered. "Because they think the era of dragons is over."
"I don't think it's a real dragon—just a half-dragon," Asher said, studying the image. "The creature's front limbs are wings. Real dragons have four limbs and two separate wing limbs. Clearly, it's not a dragon but a wyvern."
"Yes, no wonder the draconic aura felt off," Valeris replied. "These so-called dragons are just wyverns—lesser kin." She dismissed it with a glance and began moving forward.
They reached a crooked inn carved into a rib knuckle—The Marrow Vault, a place known for secrecy and silence. No names were exchanged, only coin and a brief inspection from an undead-looking attendant who seemed more curse than man. The group took a suite at the top floor, facing a canyon of dark towers and molten mist that coiled like serpents around their base.
Inside the private chamber, Asher sealed the walls with a flick of his finger—Blood Sigil: Warding Veil—before unrolling the bone-sealed scroll.
The invitation was written in two inks. One black and sharp, etched into the parchment like obsidian talons; the other red, like it had been written in blood still pulsing with memory.
**To the Uncrowned and the Unseen,You are summoned to the Hollow Banquet,where laws are broken and futures decided.Beneath the Spine, beyond the false thrones,the true rulers feast.
Bring no mask.Bring no lie.Bring only what you are.
—The Host Without Chains**
Asher read it aloud, then looked at the others. "It's tomorrow. Midnight."
Valeris crossed her arms. "No lies, no disguises. They want to know who dares to walk among them."
"If that's the case," Veyra said, "then this gathering must have someone who can restrain anyone foolish enough to make a mistake."
Asher nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Possibly even someone beyond World Rank."
Above World Rank was the realm known as Star Creation—a stage where one transcended mere existence to become a cosmic source of life, forming a star of their own and breathing existence into entire worlds. This rank was so profound that its sub-ranks were measured by how far one's inner star had formed and how many new worlds it had begun to nourish.
However, Asher soon dismissed the idea. This world's ceiling was the peak of World Rank—nothing beyond that could exist here. To ascend to a higher rank, one would have to leave this world entirely and cross into a different realm or galaxy. This entire galaxy, in fact, was structured and sealed under a restriction that capped growth at World Rank. So, anyone who had truly reached the pinnacle would have already surpassed not only this world's boundaries but also the galaxy's itself.
Valeris's eyes narrowed as she listened, absorbing the weight of Asher's words. "So the real powerhouses… they're no longer here."
"Exactly," Asher nodded. "They either left long ago—or died trying to break through the ceiling."
Veyra looked up at the sky, as if trying to see through it. "Then what about the ones who stayed? Why remain in a prison when you have the strength to leave?"
Asher smirked faintly. "Some choose to rule instead of ascend. A peak World Ranker here is a god to mortals. Their influence is absolute. Why risk the unknown when you already sit on a throne?"
Valeris added, "And not everyone can ascend. It's not just about power. You need the right key, the right body, the right soul… and the world itself must allow you to pass. Most don't have all three."
Asher nodded and said, "Anyway, let's rest for now. Tomorrow, we'll attend the banquet."
He turned, and the group made their way to rest as the night slowly settled over the vast city.