Fun?

You think this is a game?

Heat rose in Nana Shi’s chest like steam from a cracked kettle, her eyes flaring like twin lamps in winter fog. If she weren’t outmatched here, she’d have stepped up and knocked heads, just to show how their “fun” would bury her in work like a sudden snowfall.

“You know the sigil affair would come regardless,” the Ice Emperor said, voice as cool as frost on glass. “Even if I stayed silent, those people’s schemes would still swell into today’s tide.”

“I raised it now to push you toward a decision,” she added, words steady as a glacier.

“So you’re doing me a favor, huh?” Nana tossed a bleak look her way, a hint of sorrow pooling like dusk light.

“Of course. And I came to give you a clear line,” the Ice Emperor said, calm as a still lake. “This is the continent, not my Northland. The life and death of other states are no concern of this sovereign. Act boldly. Unless Northland is threatened, I will not intervene.”

She was the Ice Emperor, the lone god of Northland, a crown of ice over a sea of snow. Unless sigil-bearers invaded her borders in force, she would not set foot in continental storms.

Absolute neutrality—useful as a lodestar.

“By the way, the one who used to trail behind you?” the Ice Emperor asked, noticing only Nana in the council hall. “I don’t see her.”

“Oh, you mean that idiot Ningyi,” Nana said, dry as sand. “I sent her off to find a cool place to play. With or without her, this meeting’s the same.”

The System, hit for no reason, muttered an unprintable curse, a spark snapping in a dark wire.

“So, you traveled without a single soldier?” the Ice Emperor asked, amusement like a thin smile in frost. “Not afraid of getting ambushed on the road?”

Nana didn’t blink. Her confidence sat like a mountain shadow.

“On the continent, no one can erase me without leaving ripples.”

“Heh. Fair enough.”

They traded only a few words more, quiet as snow. Once they’d gauged each other’s currents, Nana took the System straight to Aitixi’s sky-harbor, ready to fly home.

“Thousandwise.”

“Your servant, here.”

“Choose a day and leave for Chronos City,” the Ice Emperor sent, her voice flowing like a cold stream. “Remember—do not let that woman sense you before our aim is met.”

She watched a black warship drift from Aitixi City’s sky like a whale of iron, then spoke into the air behind her.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

This continent has drowned in silt since that era, a placid surface hiding an undertow. On top, it looks calm as ever; beneath, the current has begun to surge.

May my worry be needless…

Nana’s return to Chronos City was swift, a round trip in one sun’s arc. The System, left to mind the ship like a cat in a quiet house, barely processed what happened before it was over.

…So why did it even come along?

“How is it? Nana, did you get what you wanted?” In a private pocket space, the black‑clad figure saw Nana enter with a face like deep water, and knew the plan had landed. For form’s sake, she asked anyway.

“You knew, didn’t you,” Nana said, voice tight as a drawn bow. “While I was unconscious, sigils were popping up all across the continent.”

Nana never beats around the bush; when the stakes cut like a knife, she speaks straight.

“Yep,” the other said, light as a flicked fan. “But telling you directly would warp too many threads—like the Ice Emperor’s stance on sigils. Without a clear attitude, our side moves like a boat in fog.”

“So you tricked me into that damn Joint Council?” Nana’s face darkened, storm clouds pooling.

“C’mon, that’s not fair,” the black‑clad figure said, palms up, tone easy as spring wind. “You still got the intel you wanted, didn’t you?”

She wasn’t wrong. The Ice Emperor’s stance mattered like a cliff in a tidal map. On the surface, the Ice Emperor disdained continental messes; but if something threatened her people, she would not sit idle. And sigil intel—Nana cared, bone‑deep.

“So, she’s neutral,” the black‑clad figure said, reading currents through the System like a mirror on a river.

“What intel did you pull from the council on sigils, Nana?”

“Control over Spirit Energy, and a direct boost to physique,” Nana said, words clipped as steel. “Just those two.”

“Matches my research,” the black‑clad figure murmured. She tapped a console; holographic screens bloomed like lanterns. With a sweep of her arm, one screen vanished; the floor split open, and several massive scientific containers rose like pillars from the deep.

“These are the sigil‑bearers I grabbed in Chronos City while you were out,” she said, voice clinical as a scalpel. “Counting the ones I dissected, more than a hundred. Now, only two bodies remain.”

A hundred sigil‑bearers, and two survivors. Nana’s gaze stayed steady, a blade in a sheath; taboo meant little when all roads led to Nesting Phoenix’s revival.

“Any useful intel?”

“Plenty.” She dragged several sigil patterns from a screen, symbols glowing like carved starlight. “Sigils come in tiers.”

“This one’s low‑tier—only controls Spirit Energy.”

“This one’s higher—controls Spirit Energy and boosts physique. Owners of this kind could match a thousand ordinary troops, a tide of men against a single cliff.”

Nana studied the two, eyes narrow as crescents. Aside from the second’s more complex pattern, the mystery sat like mist.

“Anything else?” She wanted substance, not smoke.

“Of course. You think I collect medals for nothing?” A chart slid over, data cascading like rain. “I found a special high‑tier sigil. Same functions as mid‑tier, plus a new trick I’m calling ‘Spirit‑Gathering.’”

“Spirit‑Gathering?” Nana’s brow tightened, a crease like a mountain ridge. “What’s the catch?”

“It lets ordinary sigil‑bearers absorb Spirit Energy and build their own Law Power,” she said, voice slow, each word a stone. “That law is weaker than the pure kind, yes—but a law is still a law. Its danger rivals any nation’s top experts.”

Nana snorted, a spark in cold air.

“Even so, that ‘gathering’ is broken.”

Her Time Law came only after killing Moragus, a wound that healed like sap in winter. If Law Power can be won by simply gathering Spirit Energy, these sigils are madness writ on skin.

“Facts don’t care,” the black‑clad figure said, calm as ink. “Sigils pack strength we didn’t imagine. Two more points, Nana—crucial. If they wish, sigil‑bearers can host multiple Laws at once. You know how heavy Law Power is; on this continent, that’s no joke.”

“Yeah.” Misuse would spark wars like dry grass catching fire.

“But it’s also the only path to waking Nesting Phoenix.”

“Mm.” She stepped aside, laying out files like feathers. “Remember that drop of blood you took from Nesting Phoenix? It’s from its spiritual plane and has been used once. But since you dragged it out, our tech can purify it, extracting a trace of that world’s phoenix Life Law. Combine that with a high‑tier sigil with Spirit‑Gathering, and—in theory—we can flood Nesting Phoenix’s life back with vitality.”

It was a wild experiment, a bridge over mist, most data drawn from the black‑clad figure’s own theory. Nana still wanted to try, heart firm as granite.

“Who else knows?”

“No one. Just you and me.”

Silence settled, soft as evening snow.

“What do I do next?” Nana exhaled a turbid breath, tension draining like water from a cupped hand. The air loosened, warmer by a shade.

“Nothing special. Live as usual in Chronos City.”

She stowed the containers, movements neat as folded paper, then offered cautions like stakes set before a storm.

“Chronos City isn’t short on sigil‑bearer sightings. In fact, we’ve had the most. I sealed the news on purpose.”

“The point is to lure the ones hiding in shadow.”

“Now, every state has sigil‑bearers—even Northland. Only Chronos City ‘has none.’ What do you think they’ll make of that silence?”

“And you opposed the crackdown at the council,” she added, a smile like a thin blade. “Soon, the schemers will come knocking on our gates.”

“Mm… that tracks.” After a brief pause, Nana’s mouth curved into a predator’s grin, sharp as moonlight on steel.

Chronos City is her turf. On her turf, her word is law.