The Gourmetâs threat was not an empty one. If a Paragon consumed their own life force, the destruction they were capable of was unimaginable. Even both the Terminator and the Epochrion wouldnât be able to contain it all. None of the many mechs surrounding them could survive the ensuing power. The North would pay dearly if they chose that route.
Whatâs more, the Avenueâs representatives were few, but strong. All four of the tournamentâs finalists were present, and everyone had seen the strength that they possessed. Each of them could touch the border of Paragon, even now.
The tournament had forbade the use of protogenia, too, and that was no longer a restriction. Who could say what these fighters were fully capable of? The Northâs timing was good, though. At least Lan Jue and Jun Yongye were not at full strength. They hadnât had enough time to recover after the championship battle.
âAnd if we include me?â The cracking, aged voice was followed by a piercing beam of holy light. It illuminated the area around them from overhead, revealing a new silhouette beside the Terminator. A bejeweled crown sat upon his head that looked resplendent against the plane white cassock that covered him. It was the Eye of God, the Pontiff!
This was a real shock to the Gourmetâs small party. It blindsided them, more than any of the faces that appeared before.
The Pontiff was a lower level than the Epochrion and Terminator, but his power was no less terrible. With him here the combat effectiveness of the Citadel was increased a hundred fold. The Pontiff was the final straw to break the camelâs back. The Gourmet stopped his advance.
Three Paragons against one, each one stronger than he. The Gourmet was very quickly running out of options.
The Terminator watched his Eastern counterpart earnestly. âMake your choice, Infernal Vanguard.â It was the first time he addressed the man by his respectful title.
An inexplicable look came over the chef. âSuch bully tactics â bringing so many against so few.â
None of the other Paragons reacted. However, he could see it in the eyes of those many soldiers who followed them. They thought the same. This was robbery.
The Terminatorâs goal had always been to get what he wanted without bloodshed. At last, it was starting to look like he would have his way. He watched as the faces of the Eastern Adepts darkened with realization.
âThereâs nothing worse than trying to win a fight by relying on all your friends. 1 Pontiff, youâre everywhere like a damn cockroach. No fear that Iâll tear apart that ratâs nest you call home?â A voice, filled with range and indignation, joined the conversation.
The Pontiffâs face froze.
The holy light blazing in the sky was suddenly gone, like someone flipped a switch. Everything was plunged in to darkness and a hundred millions stars twinkled overhead. They shone so brightly that the Adepts below could see everything. It was different from that holy light, though, like all of Luo had been plunged in to eternal night.
âThe Arcane Magnate!â The Terminator cried. The Avenue had another Paragon, whoâd arrived somehow on Luo completely unannounced. No wonder⌠no wonder the Gourmet was so calm. His backup was already here.
âYes, it is I, you enormous iron pimple. Come, letâs see whoâs stronger, out in space!â The Arcane Magnate wasnât the strongest of the Paragons, but he was â without a doubt â the meanest. His present also struck fear in to the hearts of those present. There was no man alive capable of more destruction than the mad scientist.
It was necessarily advantages in combat that made him such a frightening foe. Instead, it was because his attacks were so all-encompassing. The North definitely couldnât handle the aftermath of such a confrontation if it meant sacrificing Luo! It was the same tactic heâd used on the Pontiff in his own citadel.
The power the Gourmet would command if he sacrificed his body was enough to give the Terminator pause. What the the Arcane Magnate was capable of, would terrify the whole nation.
The Terminatorâs voice grew cold. âI thought there was a saying where youâre from, scholar. âWhen the old donât die itâs like thievery.â Youâre brave to come out here at your age. Arenât you afraid you wonât be able to return? That youâll lose the chance at a peaceful, natural death?â The sudden and menacing arrival of the Keeper caused him to lose his composure. The stress of the last few days was becoming evident, and a suddenly oppressive atmosphere descended around them.
The Terminator clapped his hands again, and the ring of mechs retreated.
Any contest between Paragons was no place for mechs. Removing them from play was saving their lives. It also looked like preparations for combat.
The Pontiff stood passively by the Terminatorâs side. To him, conflict wasnât something to fear. This wasnât Reims, he wasnât responsible for what would come. On the contrary, he was eager to teach the Keeper a lesson for past transgressions.
âSomeone said bully?! Just the three of you? Weâve got numbers, too!â Another voice interrupted their exchange. This one was heavy with disdain, thick with contempt. He sounded even more ornery than the Keeper.
The skies were again the canvas for displays of power, as a sea of shooting stars burned across the heavens. The spectacular meteor shower filled the world with undulating silvery light.
A Paragon! Another Paragon!
The Terminator sucked in a breath. He was seeing just how important Junâer was to Skyfire Avenue. Two more Paragons had come to fetch her apart from the Gourmet. This new Paragon was not one he was familiar with, but he could immediate feel his energy. It mingled with the Keepers, and their synergy birthed a dictatorial air. The Terminator could feel it constraining his Domain, fighting to keep it contained.
âThe Karmic Scholar.â He growled.
âCorrect, it is I â your elder brother. What was all this about old people dying? Let me tell you something, q-tip, we two old geezers will be kicking around long after youâre dead.â
The Karmic Scholar, once the mortal enemy of the Keeper, and in a former life called the Bookworm! Now, they were the twin pillars of strength underpinning the Avenue.
Towering images, each a thousand meters tall, stretched high in to the air. They were the projected images of the Arcane Magnate, and the Karmic Scholar. They stood in majestic pose, peering in to the distance like a pair of old heroes. To put it succinctly, they were peacocking.
Now it was even; three world-destroying super humans against three more.
In terms of pure numbers, the North still looked to have the upper hand. The Ecpohrion and Terminator were both in the Reflection stage of Paragon. Each of them individually were strong enough to handle both old men together. Strength wasnât the problem⌠except it was. If they used their full strength, it would be the people of Luo who would suffer. The cost was unthinkable. Already, regret had wormed in to the Terminatorâs mind. If heâd had known, the ambush would have been set in space. Out there it didnât matter how devastating their clash became.
âYouâve done your homework, Terminator,â the Keeper said proudly. âIn pure strength, we canât compete. But I promise that the Eastâs memory is long. You will never know another peaceful day. And perhaps, sometime, Iâll appear around one of your Northern Planets. Iâm sure a Positron Cannon blast through its core would be satisfying to watch.â
The Bookworm followed on his heels. âYou know, Iâve been fiddling with a new device, and Iâm fairly sure it can strip a planet of its atmosphere. Iâve yet to test it, though, for lack of an adequate test subject. The North does have the most planets, which makes it an excellent test environment.â
âEnough⌠itâs clear you two old madmen donât have any shame. Do you have any integrity?â The Epochrion could no longer hold her peace. Her pretty voice was hard with anger. âYou two are Paragons. They are called that for a reason â paragons of integrity, and honor. You should act like it.â
The sharp rebuke earned a rare moment of silence from the two crotchety old men. They exchange a look, but said nothing.
And then there was another voice. âYou are no longer the Avenueâs Clockmaker. You are not the assistant to the Clairvoyant, or the Chairwoman of the Avenue Council. Not anymore. You are the Epochrion, and you belong to the Great Conclave.â
When she heard the voice, the Epochrion went rigid. The Pontiff, too, was visible shaken. They turned, and saw the man standing a few feet away, bathed in silver light. He held aloft a glimmering scepter.
The Cosmagus! The Wine Master! All four of Skyfire Avenueâs Paragons were gathered for war!
âBold, bringing all four of you here. Arenât you afraid to leave the Avenue unprotected, Cosmagus?â the Terminator asked.
The sudden arrival of the Karmic Scholar, Arcane Magnate and Cosmagus was no accident. They hadnât even just arrived. Skyfire Avenue must have had time to prepare for this, and did so amply. Three Paragons were sent for a handful of Adepts and a little girl. The Terminator hadnât counted on that.
Now the Northerners were outnumbered. The Terminator was confident they could still win, even down a man. After all, the Karmic Scholar and the Infernal Vanguard were only recently ascended. However, their appearance meant that his plan had been thoroughly ruined â there was no hope for a bloodless resolution.
1. Common practice in China. There is never a one on one fight. Sometimes youâll see full on gang wars, complete with battle lines and everything.