Blood Moon Conference

Above the sky, the Blood Moon slowly sank, its dark red afterglow revealing the blurred, twisted silhouette of a building in the mist.

It flickered in and out of sight amid the crimson fog, its vague outline traced by moonlight. Up close, it was no more than an indistinct shadow, as insubstantial as a mirage.

Within the shadow stood a massive round table. Its center looked like a pool of blood, gently rising and falling as faint images of the entire human world and the Eternal Night Wall surfaced within it.

Twelve chairs surrounded the table, each embodying a different calamity.

One chair, for instance, was piled high with bones. Dark red blood kept seeping through the gaps and slowly running down its armrests.

Another was made of surging blood. Its surface swelled and receded, and strange faces occasionally rose from it, only to be swallowed by the waves again.

One seat was especially cold, pieced together from mottled, mysterious metal sharp enough to cut through shadows.

Every other seat had its own strange signs and bore a different evil will.

These were the thrones of the Blood Moon Assembly Members. The owner of each chair was among the most powerful and evil beings in the world.

To them, human civilization was nothing more than a pasture to be harvested again and again.

Every Assembly Member had once rewritten a chapter of human history through their own power—devouring, destroying, or enslaving. Every seat rested on crimes against countless lives.

But the seats were not eternal. Their authority could be fought over and taken. Even the strong could be devoured by someone stronger.

Whenever an old master weakened or died, that seat would seek out a more suitable occupant to carry on its legacy of evil and slaughter.

Strangely, though, the