The Alliance spans vast territories, with a ti difference of six to seven days or even half a month between regions not within the Inherent Ti Domain. Yet, this ans nothing to the ever-growing Narrative Civilization of the Longevity Breed; hence, many simply abandon traditional calendars, counting only centuries without recording specific years or months, as they don't need a calendar to guide their agricultural practice.
While Dragon Island is still shrouded in the dark night, Segua Court outside the Alliance's Inherent Ti Domain is hosting a eting.
It's called a eting, but it's conducted in the form of a banquet. Amidst clinking glasses, red lights, and green wines, the already resplendent Segua Court becos even more lavish. Elite offspring and young talents from various prestigious clans et and reinforce their social network in this intentionally organized banquet.
"This young man from the Rising Sun Clan, could you be Mr. Atlaya of Swallowing Star? I've heard you fought two Void Overlords at the Void frontline without losing ground—a talent truly rare to behold."
"Oh, you must be Miss Gloria of Baiyun Chieftain, famous for quite a ti. Seeing you today, you are indeed as beautiful as rumored."
"Haha, that's nothing—next to is my uncle's niece, nad Rose Ariel, attending such an occasion for the first ti and still quite shy. You should give her so guidance..."
"Ah, 'guidance,' of course I understand, how to guide."
The cello's lodious and prolonged tone nearly engulfs the entire venue in an abyss nad 'elegance.' Premium liquor worth thousands of gold is casually spilled like it's worthless or used as mint water to rinse mouths, swirled inside mouths and spat out.
This banquet, ant only for the elite group of upper-class species, mostly consists of exceedingly educated clan offspring destined to beco political decision-makers, economic controllers, military powers, practically controlling the entire Alliance's narrative retelling.
As for the argunt about wealth inequality? It's utterly laughable.
In the Alliance, where racism is the mainstream narrative, the only reason one is considered inferior is simple: you're not racist enough, your ancestors didn't kill enough enemies, unable to prove your species can lead the entire Narrative Civilization to expand and thrive.
Though touted as racism, the tribes within the Alliance prefer interpreting it as a 'social Darwinism based on absolute elite leadership by autonomous classification of various species.'
The attendees appear courteous and amicable, each seemingly dignified and noble, yet none of them are rely exquisite vases. Every person here is a survivor who erged from piles of corpses and bloody seas.
The Alliance is the hardest narrative civilization within the Union and the main force against the Void, also the most supportive mber of the Union. Without the Alliance's combat strength, there would be no Union. They are savage and crude, yet have created another form of 'fair competition' in their own way.
However, sotis this fair competition resembles raising Gu, ultimately perpetuated under the leadership of the Gu King.
Squeak—
The large door suddenly opens, a line of giant figures, body clad in black ceramic armor, tall and slender, each over three ters high, file in.
They starkly differ from other attendees. Though everyone present is fresh from frontline training, wielding knives in battle personally, they all sheepishly lower their heads compared to this group clad in black armor.
A noble of the Rising Sun Clan takes a sip of wine and says blandly:
"Look, the 'Gu King' has arrived."
Upon arriving at the banquet, the black armor figures don't indulge in the revelry. Servants with red armbands on their sleeves vanish into shadows, leaving only a few elite offspring with heavily hollowed-out armor, exhibiting crystal skin, silently traversing the banquet and entering a conference room after several twists and turns.
When the main door opens and the black armor elites appear in the conference room, the previously dull crowd rises promptly.
"Welco, emissaries of the Aton Underworld Clan."
A noble of the Baiyun Clan Tribe spreads his arms, possessing distinct Baiyun Clan features, a body wrapped in atmospheric elents faintly churning with thunder, head completely ford of a whirlwind. Nonetheless, his enormous golden monocular can express lively gestures as he laughs heartily, welcoming guests:
"I am Gotthardt, Storm Warhamr, captain of the Baiyun Tribe's representative team for this tournant."
"Aishil Corpse Pact."
The leading figure in black armor raises a hand, removes the face armor, revealing a crystal-clear, transparent visage:
"Leader of the Aton Underworld Clan's Dark Engraving Group, delayed on the road hence late; now we can start the eting."
Such nonchalant perfunctoriness clearly discontented so, and an imdiate Rising Sun Clan warrior folded his arms, and a stern face erged from the fusion stellar on his chest:
"Brothers of Aton Underworld Clan, wouldn't you explain? We've been waiting here for you for twenty minutes!"
"No need to say, waste of ti." Aishil disinclined to waste words.
"No need?"
A woman from the Temporal Angel Clan begins sourly, her slender leg propped on the front-row table, three pairs of wings grood by succubus slaves kneeling beside her:
"Haha, indeed, from Nether Abyss, a true lord of Nether Abyss. With supremacy, flaunting proximity to Primordial Abyss, even evolving looks akin to Starry Abyss Divine Race, so mighty, how did you end up being driven to the Nether Abyss back then."
As Aishil was about to speak, a Nether Clan warrior suddenly lashes out, hidden in darkness, the next mont erging from shadows on the side, raising a ceramic dark blade to strike.
Snap—snap—
The heads of two succubus instantly drop, their blood swallowed by shadows before it can splash.
"Chatter again and I'll slaughter your entire family."
The Nether Clan warrior coldly announced:
"Your na is Angelica Mines, rely a minute sequence angel, your father has so ability, climbed to the quarter-hour echelon, now a senator with a pet fostered in the Inherent Ti Domain. If you don't want your family tree erased, you better shut it obediently."
Instantly losing two slave servants leaves Angelica livid, ready to explode:
"Damn you, a shadow, daring to act all superior! You're——"
"Enough, enough!"
The captain of the Temporal Angel Clan quickly steps up to smooth over the situation:
"Angelica's first outing, doesn't understand the rules. Please, shadow warrior, calm down..."
"Gent! How co you're siding with outsiders! Aren't they just a bunch of refugees——"
"Shut up! Angelica, your father's senator seat is at risk if you don't deliver in this tournant, angering the Nether Clan, you'd better prepare to be sent to Purgatory to watch devils sneer!"
"Farce, you ought to have seen enough."
At this mont, a slender woman wearing a veil raises her chin, her rose-red eyes sweep coldly over everyone:
"Since arriving at Border Abyss, we People of the Moon unswervingly practice the narrative of racism. The Aton Underworld Clan tribe is now ranked first among Alliance tribes, anything Aton Underworld Clan does represents the Will of the entire Alliance. If you're dissatisfied, challenge Aton Underworld Clan yourself."
"We welco any challenge."
Aishil Corpse Pact speaks, moving to the central seat in the conference hall:
"On one hand, we are all citizens of the sa narrative; racist narrative is our unwavering principle. The chief race bears responsibility, other races must respect and revere the chief race—dare defy this treaty, not only Aton Underworld Clan won't agree, all 19003 species in the narrative won't agree."
"Indeed," "this is our system," "must adhere to the constitution anyway," "without the current tournant, many species wouldn't have a chance to rise," "this is consensus."...
Upon hearing this, several individuals promptly echo.
Aishil nods, then says:
"On the other hand, Aton Underworld Clan is invincible, if anyone is dissatisfied, feel free to challenge us, or use assassination, poisoning, economic sanctions, slander. Even organizing mass challenges, we can handle as trash remains trash even if aggregated into an army."
After delivering these words, Aishil pays no mind to the audience's reaction, raising a hand, the shadow warriors behind him promptly retrieve a recording crystal from the shadows, projecting it onto the wall behind.
"I dislike chitchat, formal pleasantries only waste ti—today, Aton Underworld Clan, Rising Sun Clan, Temporal Angel Clan, Baiyun Elental Clan, People of the Moon tribe gather here for one purpose."
He points at the dragon emblem projected behind, stating flatly:
"Dragon Island Tribes."
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