Three Stars Against the Crimson Thread

Alyssara was enjoying this.

Perhaps a little too much.

The sight of Arthur before her, struggling to maintain composure under the weight of her presence, sent an intoxicating thrill coursing through her veins. There was a delicious irony in this—Arthur, the man who had once played her game so effortlessly, was now standing so far beneath her.

Alyssara savored the moment, letting the sensation of domination sink into her very core. It was more than just power; it was control, absolute and undeniable. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she entertained a thousand fleeting fantasies, each more tantalizing than the last.

She wanted to imprison him. To shatter that unyielding resolve, piece by defiant piece. She wanted him to look to her, rely on her, breathe through her, until the mere thought of existing without her brought him to his knees. It wasn't enough to hold power over him—she wanted him to need her, utterly and irreparably.

But even as the thought lingered, Alyssara felt her brows knit in irritation. The problem wasn't Arthur's defiance—oh, she relished that—it was the unshakable certainty in his eyes. That glimmer of belief, buried deep in his soul, that he would one day surpass her.

She hated it.

And, perversely, she adored it.

Alyssara exhaled, forcing her body to relax, her pulse to steady. Her grip on control was absolute, but that didn't stop her thoughts from wandering, unbidden, to a darker corner of her mind.

'Have those three sluts already claimed him?' she thought bitterly, her expression darkening for a fleeting moment.

The notion clawed at her, an unwelcome irritation that threatened to sour her amusement. But just as the jealousy began to fester, a wave of power rolled over her—a presence distinct and powerful, pressing against the fabric of her being.

For Alyssara, the pressure was little more than a breeze brushing against her skin. She could have swept it away with a flick of her will. But she wasn't here as herself, not entirely. The mask she wore—disguising her strength as mid Radiant-rank—demanded a reaction. So she allowed her body to tense, let her expression harden ever so slightly, as though the low Radiant-rank pressure had caught her off guard.

Mo Zenith entered the scene like the storm he was, his presence a crescendo of wind and steel. His ice-blue gaze locked onto Alyssara, sharp and unyielding.

"I wondered who would dare to trespass here," Mo said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "But it seems we've found ourselves in far more dangerous company than expected."

Alyssara dipped her head slightly, a gesture that could be interpreted as either respect or condescension, depending on the observer. "Dangerous?" she replied, her voice syrupy sweet. "Such an unkind word."

Mo's eyes didn't leave hers, his mana pressing harder, testing. "And what would you call yourself, Alyssara Velcroix?"

Alyssara's smile widened, sharp as broken glass. "Merely a curious wanderer," she said, tilting her head. "Is that a crime, King Zenith?"

He didn't answer, but the air between them grew heavier, wind pressing down on the space they occupied. Alyssara fought the urge to yawn. The theatrics were so predictable. Still, it would be unwise to provoke him further—not yet, anyway.

"And why are you here?" Mo Zenith's voice was calm, measured, but the flicker of his gaze towards Arthur betrayed his true concern.

Alyssara caught it instantly, her lips curving into a sly smile. 'Afraid,' she thought, though not for himself. No, the venerable Mo Zenith wasn't the type to fear for his own life. He was worried for Arthur, concerned that the boy would become collateral in a battle far beyond his current strength.

How sweet. How predictable.

Alyssara allowed her thoughts to drift for a moment, amused by the irony. Mo didn't know the truth, didn't realise that no one—no one—would harm Arthur unless she allowed it. He was hers, and while she was willing to break him, that privilege belonged to her alone.

A crimson gleam flickered in the air as threads of her power shot toward Mo, their speed tearing through the air like the crack of a whip. His expression hardened as his own mana surged outward, a storm of wind and water astral energy clashing against her threads, tearing them apart before they could reach him.

'Not bad,' Alyssara mused, tapping a manicured nail against her lip as she observed the interplay of elements. She could respect his skill, even admire it in her own detached way. He was better than most, his precision and power honed to a razor's edge.

But in her eyes, even he wasn't the best. Selene Kagu remained the more formidable of the two. A flicker of disappointment crossed her thoughts. Still, this might provide her some entertainment.

With a languid motion, Alyssara flicked her fingers. Space itself rippled, twisting in an elegant yet disorienting pattern as Arthur was moved far away from the battle that was about to unfold. Mo's mana flared in immediate response, bristling with defensive intent, but when he realised there was no malice in the motion, he allowed it to happen, albeit reluctantly.

"Bring it on, King of the East," Alyssara said, her voice dripping with amusement as she stepped forward. Her jade-green eyes sparkled with anticipation as her dress fluttered behind her, each step carrying her closer with an unhurried grace. She tilted her head, her expression both teasing and predatory, like a cat toying with its prey.

Mo's jaw tightened. His hand brushed against his comms, a single command slipping through his lips. "Call Selene Kagu and Archduke Astoria. Now. And begin evacuation."

Practical as ever. Alyssara almost laughed. She could feel his calculations, the weight of leadership pressing down on him. They were far enough from Mount Hua that its sacred grounds wouldn't suffer, but his soldiers—ah, they were a different matter. His concern for them was palpable, another layer of the burdens he carried. How noble. How quaint.

"Well, well," Alyssara murmured, her tone mocking as her power pulsed, a soft hum in the air that promised devastation. "You're such a dutiful little king, aren't you? Trying to protect everyone, even when you know you can't."

Mo didn't respond. His focus was absolute, his mana sharpening around him like the edge of a blade. Alyssara's smile widened. Yes, this was going to be fun.

In an instant, the sword appeared in Mo's hand, its presence commanding as though the air itself bowed in reverence. The Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword—a Legendary-grade artifact, the most treasured relic of the Mount Hua sect. Its polished blade shimmered with a subtle radiance, its edge seemingly carved from the first light of dawn.

The moment Mo grasped it, his power surged, his wind and water astral energy weaving together in a seamless, breathtaking harmony. The air around him condensed, the currents bending under his will as he guided them to the blade's tip. There, his Sword Unity refined the energy to a singularity—a point of overwhelming potency.

With a deliberate motion, Mo swung the sword.

The effect was immediate and spectacular.

Plum blossoms.

A cascade of ethereal petals bloomed from the sword's path, pink and luminous, like a spring storm caught in perpetual motion. The petals coalesced into a cleave of astral energy, rushing toward Alyssara with the force of an inevitable tide.

This was the Seven Plum Blossoms Sword.

The first movement: Plum Blossom Cleave.

The attack was as elegant as it was devastating. The cleave roared forward, each petal brimming with power that could cut through mountains, its beauty belying its lethality. But Alyssara, standing amidst its approach, appeared unfazed. Her jade-green eyes glittered with something between amusement and contemplation.

How much strength should she show?

She let the question linger in her mind, savoring the moment as the cleave surged closer. The threads of crimson surrounding her tightened, coiling like serpents preparing to strike. She raised a hand, her movements languid, as though she had all the time in the world.

The cleave met her open palm.

There was no explosion, no violent clash. Instead, the astral energy seemed to hesitate, quivering under the weight of her Thread Unity. The crimson threads spiraled outward, intertwining with the cleave's pink blossoms in an almost delicate embrace.

And then, she closed her hand.

The energy shattered, the blossoms dissolving into nothingness as though they had never existed. Silence followed, heavy and charged, the aftermath of her casual display more deafening than any explosion could have been.

Mo's grip on his sword tightened, his expression hardening. Alyssara met his gaze, her lips curving into a soft, almost patronising smile.

"Well," she said, her voice light, as though commenting on the weather, "that was lovely. Almost nostalgic, really."

Her words, so effortless and dismissive, hung in the air like a guillotine. The battlefield, once vibrant with astral energy, now felt suffocating under her presence, a stark reminder that her power was not just overwhelming—it was incomprehensible.

The tension in the air thickened as two figures descended, their presence immediately shifting the balance of the battlefield.

First was Selene Kagu, her arrival heralded by a cascade of frost. The ground beneath her feet froze instantly, crystalline patterns spreading outward as though the earth itself bowed to her will. Her violet eyes, as cold as the glacial winds she commanded, locked onto Alyssara. In her hands, the frost-covered glaive gleamed like an extension of her very soul, its blade radiating a chill that seemed to seep into the bones of anyone who stood too close.

To Mo's left, Leopold Astoria landed with the elegance of a swordsman who had mastered not just his blade but also his place in the world. His brown hair caught the faintest glimmers of light, while his violet eyes shone with an intensity that matched Selene's frost. The air around him shimmered faintly, his presence exuding a quiet gravity that was both reassuring and dangerous. The legendary starlight swordsmanship he was known for seemed to hum in anticipation as he unsheathed his blade, its edge glowing faintly like a star on the verge of ignition.

Together, the two reinforcements brought a sense of purpose and strength that even Mo couldn't help but acknowledge.

Alyssara, for her part, seemed utterly delighted. Her jade-green eyes sparkled with an almost childlike glee as she surveyed the three before her. Her lips curled into a smile that was equal parts mirth and malice, as though she had been waiting for this exact moment.

"Now," she said, her voice dripping with mockery and amusement, "it's going to be fun."

Selene didn't respond, her focus unshakable as she twirled her glaive once, the air around her dropping several degrees. Frost coated the ground in an expanding circle, as though marking her territory.

Leopold, however, took a single step forward, his blade raised in a loose but ready stance. "You've caused enough chaos, Velcroix," he said, his voice steady, firm, but without bravado. "This ends here."

Alyssara tilted her head, her smile growing wider. "Oh, you think so, do you?" she replied, her tone lilting as though she were addressing a child. "How charming. I haven't even started."

Mo, standing between the two newcomers, shifted his stance. The Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword pulsed faintly in his hands, its energy resonating with his own. "Stay focused," he said to Selene and Leopold, his voice low and calm. "She's not like anything we've faced before."

"I can see that," Selene murmured, her grip on her glaive tightening.

Leopold simply nodded, his blade beginning to glow brighter, faint starlight swirling around it as he prepared himself.

Alyssara raised a single hand, crimson threads swirling into existence around her like serpents emerging from a lair. The threads writhed and twisted in the air, exuding a power that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. "Three of you against little old me?" she said, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. "How unfair."

And then she moved.