When Ash and the others reappeared, they were standing in the middle of a city plaza.
The Mark of the Weaver.... or to be more specific the Land of Weavingâopened around them with quiet, understated beauty beneath a calm night sky.
The plaza was broad but welcoming, paved with smooth obsidian tiles that reflected the lanternlight like polished glass.
Lanterns floated at different heights, held aloft by steady concepts so common here they barely drew attention. Each glass orb held a single warm flame, casting a soft, even glow across the square without a hint of flicker.
The air was cool, the kind that carried distant music and muted conversation, giving the space a comfortable, familiar feel rather than anything grandiose.
The surrounding buildings rose in clean, deliberate linesâtall, narrow structures of dark stone and polished wood.
Their arched windows and wroughtâiron balconies were simple in shape but executed with such precision that the restraint itself became a kind of artistry.
Nothing was ornate, yet everything felt intentionally crafted, as if the city valued balance over spectacle.
The plazaâs atmosphere settled around them in a natural, livedâin way.
People moved through the space with the ease of those accustomed to gatherings like this, every one of them dressed for what was unmistakably a masquerade.
Men wore tailored suits in black velvet, deep crimson, or muted charcoal.
Their masksâlacquered wood, polished porcelain, or brushed metalâhid their expressions while giving each silhouette a distinct character.
Women crossed the plaza in flowing gowns of silk and layered chiffon, the fabrics catching the lanternlight in soft, natural highlights.
Their masks were decorated with feathers, lace, or beadworkâdetailed enough to be beautiful, restrained enough to feel appropriate for a formal gathering rather than a spectacle.
The crowd moved with a steady pace.
Some walked armâinâarm, others chatted in small circles....
From a raised platform at the far end of the plaza, a string quartet played a calm, steady melodyâhaunting in tone but quiet enough to sit beneath the conversations rather than compete with them.
Ash stood at the center with Aurora still holding one hand and Sonna holding the other while the rest of the Originat fanned out behind them in loose formation.
For a moment, no one spokeâthey simply took in the atmosphere, the place where the next phases of their journeyâs would truly begin.
Aurora tilted her head, white-blue hair catching the amber lantern light.
"Itâs... pretty," she said softly, almost surprised.
Ash smiled faintly, golden eyes scanning the crowd.
"Yes. It is... for the moment at least."
The masquerade carried on around themâunaware, for the moment, of the group that had just stepped into the plaza.
Vane moved to the front, his expression the same cautious mix of vigilance and resignation he always wore. His short grey hair was slightly mussed, as though heâd run a hand through it one too many times.
"Grand Ceremonial Ball... thatâs a major understatement," he muttered. His gaze drifted over the groupâand he exhaled a long, weary sigh.
None of them were dressed for the occasion.
Nia and Ash were still in their usual baggy, casual clothes.
And Diana... well, Diana was Diana.
Even now she wore little more than strips of fabric covering the bare essentials, her physique and sculpted muscles on full display as always.
"This is the Eternal Masque of the Lower Heaven," Vane said, tone shifting into explanation as he took in the scene around them.
The event itself operated like a controlled disasterâone everyone accepted because that was simply how the Eternal Masque worked.
All factionsâally, rival, and outright enemyâgathered beneath the same open sky. They mingled, danced, whispered, and schemed.
Here, Chaos wasnât a risk; it was more like a tradition.
Some arrived, in order to form alliances. Others came to break them. A few intended to flip loyalties through charm, pressure, or quiet threats.
The masks made all of it possible.
No one knew who anyone truly was until they chose to reveal themselvesâor slipped up.
The anonymity wasnât an accident; it was the foundation of the event, crafted by the leaders of the Lower Heaven to keep the balance uncertain and everyone equally wary.
Mira finally spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension just enough to draw the groupâs attention.
"And can we still get these specially crafted outfits?"
Vane was about to speak... but Sylvie spoke as she plucked Miraâs forehead.
"Um, did you forget who your Master is?"
It was obvious to them all, that there was no need to have any outfits created.
SNAP!
Ash smiled, and before he could even speak, Creara materialized beside him. A sharp snap of her fingers rippled through the airâand in an instant, everyone stood transformed.
Ash now wore a tailored black suit traced with golden embroidery along the lapels and cuffs.
A sleek black mask covered the upper half of his face, its golden ring motifs echoing the color of his eyes and giving him an enigmatic, regal edge.
Auroraâs attire had become a flowing silverâwhite gown, luminous as moonlight reflecting across still water.
The lace at the hem drifted with every breath of movement.
A delicate halfâmask of white porcelain framed her eyes, adorned with tiny golden musical symbols that made her look both ethereal and untouchable.
Niaâs transformation was the boldest. She now wore a deep crimson gown marked with black, flameâlike patterns that seemed to flicker when she moved.
The dress hugged her petite frame with deliberate precision, every curve accentuated.
Her maskâblack and shaped like a rising sunâcast her expression in fierce mystery.
Vaeloria stood resplendent in a midnight gown, the fabric flowing like liquid shadow. Silver sword motifs traced her sleeves in elegant, razorâfine embroidery, each one catching the light with a quiet promise of power.
Her maskâa sleek silver halfâmask marked with slender lunar crescentsâgave her an air of serene, dangerous royalty.
Serisâs attire balanced boldness and grace. Layered red and black chiffon drifted around her like shifting smoke, the colors subtly changing with every step she took.
Her mask bore faint summoning runes that pulsed softly, as though responding to her heartbeat.
The rest of the womenâSonna, Yonna, Celeste, Raven, Katherine, Summer, Elara, Layla, Seraphiel, Aurelia, Sylvie, Mira, Diana, Lithia, Madison, Rune, Aeloris, Fay, and Siaâwere no less transformed.
Each wore attire crafted to reflect her essence: gowns of harmony, storms, fate, void, blood, and more.
Every detail was tailored, elegant, mysteriousâperfect for the Eternal Masque, where identity was meant to be both concealed and revealed.
The men, too, had been dressed in equal care.
Their suits ranged from regal to austere to mythical, each one carrying the weight of their presence even as they blended seamlessly into the swirling crowd of masked revelers.
Ash adjusted his cuff, the roseâgold embroidery catching the lanternlight. A faint smile curved his lips.
"Thalion, Kael, and Caelum... maybe you can find yourselves a woman?"
These words caused the twins to laugh as they adjusted their suits.
"Haha, Boss... tell me should I smile more like you?" Caelum asked as he walked closer to Ash as if he was receiving a gameplan.
Kael approached from the other side.
"Big Brother... tell me too, should I be mysterious or something?"
"Hehe, Uncles... just be yourselves. Iâm sure daddy is not the type to act out for women." Aurora said as she pushed Caelum out the way, retaking her place.
Thalion didnât say a word, but his ears were noticeably perked, his attention sharper than usual.
"As Rora says, just be yourself." He added after a moment, then shot a smirk toward the three men.
"How about thisâwhoever manages to get a woman first... you can have whatever you want. My treat. Even something the resource fountains canât produce."
"Say nothing more, big brother," Kael replied, lightning flickering faintly in his eyes.
Thalion still didnât speak. He only smiled, the glow in his eyes deepening with quiet calculations.
Ash, meanwhile, had no idea what heâd even give them if they won.
But with Authoring Potential, the answer was technically
anything
. So as they approached the entrance, he offered one final comment.
"You all just make sure to have fun... and donât worry about a single consequence."
In other words, the Eternal Masque was about to experience something it had never prepared for.
And as they stepped inside, Ash blinked onceâjust a single, calm blink.