Elsewhere in the city, new wind slithered through the residential areas of Asmaphaeri.
From the northwestern arc of the city, just beside the market district, seven carriages rolled into view with arched windows and glimmering undercarriages made from rare materials.
The eight carriage was taller, its black wheels rolled over the cobbled stones. The coat of arms etched into its side, which was a bloodied rose wrapped in skeletal hands made all those nearby stop in their tracks. Strangers blinked. Merchants stilled. Guards gripped their weapons not out of threat, but instinct.
No one in the Coastal City of Asmaphaeri had ever seen these carriages before and deep down, every citizen knew the truth before the doors opened.
The carriages hissed open like ancient tombs breathing out centuries of hunger. The first beings stepped out.
The Vampires of Nesmarone. They were tall, statuesque and sensual.
Skin like ivory, some tinged with undertones of rose or ash. Their eyes were in impossible colors of amethyst, sapphire, topaz, crimson, all glowing faintly under the sun as if reality couldn't hide their unnatural beauty. Their hair shimmered in blacks, silvers, icy blondes and silver, worn loose or tied with velvet cords. Even their most informal garments, whether silk tunics or lace-trimmed coats, felt like stolen royal wear.
They were the third most beautiful immortals in Spheraphase.
And the humans? They stared like sinners at a stained glass window, ashamed, terrified… and completely willing to fall.
One girl dropped her basket of imported citrus and barely even noticed. A young vampire whispered to himself.
"We're not allowed to bite them, right?"
"No biting," a vampire purred in response. "It's a diplomatic day."
Another female vampire turned to her companion, giggling softly.
"So many fresh faces… I can smell the innocence from here."
"Especially that one," said a raven-haired vampire in a blood-red coat, licking his lips. "Untouched blood. Still sweet. If only treaties didn't exist…"
A group of young women overheard that and they didn't run. They looked at each other with flushed cheeks and held their necks a little too openly.
"I wouldn't even mind," one muttered under her breath, staring wide-eyed at the gorgeous male vampire in question. "He's hot."
"Honestly… is war really that bad?" Another whispered, fanning herself with a spellbook.
A third one just sighed, "If he bit me, I'd probably say thank you."
And in the middle of this socially lethal chaos, the eighth carriage opened. The temperature of the entire district shifted like it had just turned midnight.
Out stepped a man who was not just beautiful. He was the storm before seduction, the hunger behind allure, the predator veiled in princely charm.
Eldrigan Hanabas, The Dynasty Monarch of Hanabas. The supreme ruler of Nesmarone, the continent of dusk, darkness, and dreams.
He was 196 centimeters tall, his long, obsidian-black hair cascading to his waist. His skin was a tanned. His caramel eyes held no malice.
His clothes were informal. He wore black silk pants tucked into boots lined with silver thread and a loose white open-collar shirt that revealed the divine musculature of a ruler who never needed armor to look dangerous. The city shuddered. Everyone, regardless of race, orientation, or realm origin, stared. Even a few people paused from their elegant conversations.
A young boy gasped and asked his mother, "Is that a god?"
The mother didn't answer. She was still staring, breathless.
Eldrigan stepped forward, glancing toward the distant presence of energy.
They're all here."
Then turned to his vampires, many of whom were still eyeing the local population like a bakery shelf.
"Do not flirt with the elves," he said sternly. "They're here too."
One of the vampires chuckled, "No promises, my liege."
"I said don't." Eldrigan exhaled, rubbing his temple with a sigh. "We are here as diplomats, not walking bedroom disasters."
"Again, no promises."
He waved them off, muttering something in the old tongue of Nesmarone that sounded very close to, "Let the stars damn me if they ruin this day."
The vampires dispersed, the echoes of old nobility dripping from every gesture.
The sun overhead didn't burn them. They moved freely blessed by Dynasty Hanabas, who had rewritten their blood with a Divinity so pure that it even defied sunlight. As Eldrigan turned his head slightly toward the distant pulse of his former comrade. A faint smile brushed his lips.
Amidst the madness, the city had not yet seen everything until they came.
It started with a low mechanical purr. Light seemed to bend around the space for a moment as something new entered the cityscape.
Eleven carriages arrived. Even the most decorated of nobles paused.
These carriages were impossibly refined. Streamlined architecture with panels of reflective alloy, their window frames inscribed with runes of subtle repulsion. The metallic sheen across their chassis softly hummed with tech-enhanced enchantments, courtesy of the Kingdom of Amaniya, from the continent of Anqerise. They were driven by giant white feline beasts, creatures with gemstone eyes, crystalline fangs and manes that sparkled. Their collars alone looked like they could buy half the lower districts of the city with money. The creatures made no noise until they turned to glare at the black horses of Nesmarone.
The contrast was blinding.
Where Nesmarone exuded old money, mythic grace, and wine-soaked arrogance, the Kingdom of Amaniya, home of the Immortal Humans, had that modern divinity energy. When the doors opened, the Immortal Humans stepped out.
They weren't adorned in robes or armor or divine relics. They had casual luxury streetwear and relaxed fits that still showed off flawless physiques and accessories that were probably worth more than an entire carriage from Wisterix.
They were the fourth most beautiful immortals in Spheraphase but today? They looked like the first.
Their hairstyles ranged from tightly styled braids to waves, depending on heritage. They were richly dangerous. Every step they took screamed influence.
The vampires stared.
"..I've never seen humans look like that," one vampire whispered, his voice caught in his throat.
"That's because they're not like the ones you hunt," another murmured. "That's Immortal Blood. Their blood's supposed to taste like sugar mixed with lightning."
"I'd risk war for them," another vampire said under his breath.
Then came the final carriage. When its door finally opened, no one spoke.
Adelasta Richinaria, The Grand Duchess of Dynasty Richinaria, stepped out.
She stood at 195 centimeters, her long wavy crimson hair cascading down her back. Her skin was a flawless balance of snow and tanner. Her amber eyes were so bright. Yet, she only wore a long, oversized white t-shirt that slipped down one shoulder and dark shorts that revealed her flawless thighs.
That was all but somehow… she looked more powerful than any armored queen, and more devastating than any jeweled empress. Even the vampires froze.
One clutched his chest and whispered, "Who... is she?"
Eldrigan Hanabas stared. He blinked once.
He wasn't easily rattled but this?
He walked up to her slowly, the crowd parting like the sea before a greater tide.
"Adelasta. Why… are you wearing that?"
She turned to him then narrowed her amber eyes.
"It's a coastal city," she said plainly. "The sun's hot."
Eldrigan deadpanned. "You're immune to heat. You literally summon flames."
A long sigh escaped her lips. She tilted her head back and looked skyward.
She felt the divine presences.
"They're going to be shocked."
Eldrigan raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
A soundless step echoed across the plaza.
The very fabric of the city compressed, like the world was politely clearing its throat and preparing to bow. Spells across the area trembled. The ocean stilled. The trees near Elyonari's location stood taller, as though reverent.
A single footstep and everyone felt it. Someone important had arrived.Adelasta didn't move. Eldrigan turned. And for a moment, time didn't breathe. Eldrigan whispered only one word.
"Vastarael?"