Crimson flames scorched the horizon.
At this moment on the Plains Continent, inside the Queen’s palace—
It was the evening court session.
A group of ministers were arguing heatedly over newly plundered gold from their privateer fleets.
Everyone present was a high-ranking official of the empire, governors of border provinces.
Every proposal they made could significantly influence the empire’s future.
Some argued for expanding the privateer fleet, while others suggested funding explorers to find a new sea route to secretly trade with the Spice Empire… Everyone was talking over one another, opinions clashing.
But all the arguing came to an abrupt halt due to a sudden, strange phenomenon in the sky.
“Beacon fire? Why now…”
Prime Minister Siska looked up, and almost instinctively, his muscle memory had already moved his hand to his mask.
In the brief moment when everyone turned their eyes skyward, he quickly left behind a magical decoy, trembling as he covered his excited expression with the mask.
“Raven accepts the call.”
The light of the projection spread across every corner of the Plains Continent, including the Queen’s garden.
The mask flickered with light.
Four rubies formed an irregular quadrilateral, mirroring the sky.
A pillar of light shot upward, illuminating the constellation Corvus, and with it, the figure of Prime Minister Siska vanished.
……
On the Olive Continent, in the Temple of White Night, a group of bards gathered beneath the pale marble columns.
This colossal stone temple, standing for over two thousand years, was steeped in layers of history.
When it was first built, it embodied the wisdom of the ancients.
In the two millennia since, it had changed hands many times, with every ruler treating it as the greatest treasure of their conquest of the Olive Continent, leaving behind their ideologies and grand ambitions carved into its walls.
The overwhelming sense of epic grandeur seemed to pulse from the stone itself, inspiring the bards every second.
Countless masterpieces had been born here, turning the temple into a sacred site for all bards.
And if a bard were lucky enough to compose a truly immortal poem, it would be carved into the temple’s columns.
To have just one poem etched here meant eternal fame, an honor that all bards dreamed of their whole lives, yet…
“This is his thirty-seventh poem carved on the wall. What the hell is this guy?!”
Halecros was a young poet who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
No one had ever seen him wandering the temple seeking inspiration.
He only came when it was time to inscribe a new poem at the personal request of the Bard’s Guild president.
Yet in this moment of sacred glory that others spent their lives chasing, he always appeared disinterested and utterly bored.
It seemed like he had no interest at all in being remembered by history.
He always looked gloomy, devoid of the fiery passion expected of a genius artist.
His life was so modest it bordered on poverty.
He only came to inscribe poems on the columns because the prize money would buy him a few days of meals.
No one had ever truly seen through this drifting vagabond.
People could only glimpse into the vast and brilliant world hidden in his closed-off heart through his grand, magnificent poetry.
A world with no flattery for kings, no hunger for fame, no trace of worldly suffering.
Instead, there was an indescribable sense of the epic like a god’s perspective, pondering the birth and endurance of life.
And a loneliness that no one could understand.
What in this world could possibly spark his interest?
What could cause him to show a flicker of real emotion, like an ordinary man?
People wondered.
They had no answers until the sky turned blood red.
Suddenly, Halecros burst into maniacal laughter and shoved through the crowd, running straight into a small cabin.
“Hey! The inscription ceremony isn’t over yet—hey!”
People shouted after him, but he didn’t seem to hear.
He locked the door behind him and summoned a jet-black mask embedded with five rubies in his palm.
His body vanished in the glow, as he whispered softly,
“Perseus accepts the call.”
……
One by one, figures began rising from the sea and from all corners of the land.
Guided by the stars, distance was no longer a barrier.
On the beach of Bibo City, Wu Yi looked like a carefree girl on vacation, sitting leisurely on the sand, letting the waves roll fine grains against the soles of her feet, gazing dreamily out at the distant sea… even though she couldn’t see it.
Just behind her, terrifying figures, so terrifying they shattered Cheng Yi’s understanding of reality descended one by one onto the battlefield.
From the moment the first masked figure landed, he had been completely unable to move, even blinking felt like an impossible task.
“One, two, three…”
Wu Yi silently counted with her eyes closed.
The signal fire took time to transmit.
It had to ignite from the source and pass from one place to another, each link seamlessly connecting to ensure the message reached every corner, to link all beacon fires into one.
Behind her, the summoned Beacon Envoys said nothing.
They only bowed respectfully toward the girl’s back, awaiting her command.
No matter how noble they were beneath the masks, no matter what glories they had achieved in this moment, they were all simply members of the Beacon Society, ordinary Beacon Envoys under Wu Yi’s command.
“Eighty-six, Capricorn. Eighty-seven, Ophiuchus. Eighty-eight, Qilin… Good, everyone’s here.”
Now that they’d all arrived, it was time for the meeting~