Jian didn't land; he simply occupied the space where the courtyard used to be.

  The air was shoved aside so violently it ignited. A column of fire punched into the center of the Black-Rock Reach garrison, the shockwave blowing out every window for three blocks and turning the barracks into splinters.

  Jian stepped out of the crater, his boots melting the cobblestones. His hair was a wild, static-charged mess, and his eyes were glowing with that same wrong, copper light.

  "Halt!" someone yelled. The voice sounded small and pathetic against the roar of the fire.

  The Iron-Guard—the Empire’s heavy hitters—came pouring out of the main building. They were encased in steel, locked together behind massive shields etched with protective runes. It was a perfect phalanx, a wall of metal designed to stop a small army.

  Jian didn't see soldiers. He saw gears. He saw the way they moved in sync, the way they shouted "For the Empire!" on the exact same beat.

  Dolls, he thought. Just more puppets for the hack to play with.

  He didn't throw a fireball. He didn't have to. He just twitched his fingers, and thin, white-hot threads of orange flame spun out from his hand. The threads didn't care about shields or armor. They slid through the gaps in their visors and the joints of their greaves, lacing through their chests.

  Jian closed his fist and pulled.

  The formation didn't just break; it fell apart. Twenty men were jerked into the air, their bodies twitching like marionettes on burning wires. Then the threads tightened, and the men were simply gone, replaced by a flash of heat and a smell of ozone.

  Jian stopped. One soldier was left—a kid, maybe sixteen, who had tripped and fallen behind the line. The boy was staring up at him, a single tear cutting through the soot on his face.

  For a second, the copper light in Jian’s eyes dimmed.

  Is he real? the thought nagged at him. The way his lip is shaking... you can't script that.

  Jian’s head snapped back, a snarl ripping out of his throat. "No!"

  He remembered a woman from another life—another "Epoch." He’d thought she was real, too. He’d spent a century loving her, only to have her laugh with the Old Man’s voice while she drove a needle into his spine.

  "I’m not doing this again," Jian hissed. "I’m not looking for souls in the dolls."

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  He turned his back on the boy and walked toward the main vault. The heavy iron doors didn't even put up a fight; they just sagged and turned to liquid as he got close.

  Inside, the place was a goldmine of Imperial supplies. Crates of herbs, spirit-stones, and enchanted gear lined the walls. Jian went straight for the medicine. He found boxes of Northern Water Roots and ate three of them raw. The relief was instant—a cold, blue energy that finally started to drown out the dragon's roar in his gut.

  He looked around. The vault was packed with "legendary" junk—swords made of star-iron, robes of celestial silk, even a black blade called the Eclipse Fang that seemed to eat the light around it. He grabbed a chest piece, the Ember-Steel Plate, and put it on. The armor groaned and shifted to fit his gaunt frame, the red runes on the metal starting to drink the excess heat from his core.

  "Too much to carry," Jian muttered. He’d spent ten million years in a cell; he didn't have pockets, let alone a bag.

  He walked back out to the courtyard. Most of the garrison was a smoking ruin now. Near the gate, a merchant’s wagon was parked, draped in expensive silks. An older man in fancy furs was arguing with his guards while two young women—his daughters—huddled together in the back.

  The merchant stopped talking when he saw Jian. He looked at the melted Iron-Guard, then at the smoking, armored man walking toward him.

  "Ah!" the merchant yelped. He hit the ground, pressing his face into the soot. "Forgive us! We didn't know there was a new... commander! We're just traders! Please, take whatever you want! We're yours!"

  Jian tilted his head. "You think I’m in charge now?"

  "Of course!" the merchant babbled. "Only an Immortal could... renovate... like this! My name is Corvan. These are my daughters. We are at your mercy!"

  Jian looked at the wagon. "You have a storage ring?"

  Corvan scrambled to pull a gold band off his thumb. "Yes! A High-Grade Void-Circle! It can hold a warehouse! It’s yours! Take the wagon too! Spices, silks, everything!"

  He looked at his daughters, then back at Jian. He saw a chance to stay alive. If this man was the new power in the province, he wanted in.

  "And my daughters!" Corvan added, his voice getting desperate. "They’re trained in music, tea... take them as wives, servants, whatever! Just let us stay under your protection!"

  Jian looked at the girls. They were beautiful, but he just saw more masks. More scripts.

  "Whatever," Jian rasped. He took the ring. "I’ll take the ring and the gear. There’s a mountain of gold in that vault. Take it. It’s yours for the trouble."

  Corvan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "The treasury? But that’s millions—"

  "Take it," Jian repeated. "I don't need gold. I need space."

  He went back into the vault and stripped it clean. He dumped the herbs, the spirit-stones, and the Eclipse Fang into the ring. By the time he was done, he looked like a god of war carved out of shadow and fire.

  He walked past the merchant, who was already frantically loading sacks of gold into his wagon.

  "The marriage thing," Jian said, pausing.

  Corvan looked up, hopeful. "Yes, my Lord?"

  "I’m going to the Capital," Jian said. "If you’re serious, meet me there. If you survive the trip."

  He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't even jump this time. He just took off, propelled into the sky like a black comet by his own fire and the new armor.

  Corvan stood in the ruins, his hands full of gold and his heart hammering. He looked at his daughters, then at the streak of fire in the sky.

  "What was that?" one of the guards asked, his voice shaking. "Was that a god?"

  "No," Corvan whispered, a look of pure, terrifying greed crossing his face. "That was an opportunity. Pack the wagon, girls! We’re going to the Capital!"