✦ Summoned by Mistake: Han Jue in Chaldea ✦
🌤️ Setting: A Normal Morning in Chaldea
The Antarctic facility of Chaldea hummed with its usual quiet efficiency. Morning light filtered through the specialized windows designed to simulate natural daylight patterns despite their subterranean location. In the central command room, holographic displays showed the normal vital signs of human history—stable, for once, after months of crisis.
Ritsuka Fujimaru sat at a console, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he reviewed deployment logs from their most recent expedition. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, evidence of the toll that saving human history repeatedly had taken on the young Master. Yet there was a contentment in his posture today, the satisfaction that came from successfully resolving another Lostbelt.
"The Valkyries performed exceptionally well against those chimera clusters," he murmured to himself, making annotations on his personal records. "Though we still need more versatility against mixed-alignment opponents."
Across the room, Mash Kyrielight was engaged in her morning training regimen. Despite having served as a Demi-Servant for years now, she maintained a strict physical conditioning schedule. The clash of her shield against the practice drones echoed rhythmically through the chamber.
"Your left guard is improving," noted the red-haired trainer observing her. "But remember—a Servant won't telegraph their strikes like these drones do."
"Yes, Leonidas-sensei," Mash replied, adjusting her stance and continuing her practice with renewed focus.
The doors to the command center slid open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing Da Vinci in her workshop attire, goggles pushed up onto her forehead and a tablet in hand. Her youthful Rider form—"Da Vinci-chan" as some called her—bounced with perpetual energy as she approached Ritsuka.
"Good morning! How's our Master doing today?" she asked, peering over his shoulder at the deployment logs. "Ah, good work documenting the resource consumption. Very thorough!"
Ritsuka stretched, rolling tension from his shoulders. "Just trying to optimize for next time. We're running low on Saint Quartz fragments after that last emergency summoning."
Da Vinci's eyes gleamed with interest. "Speaking of summoning... I was analyzing the leyline fluctuations near that recent Singularity—the one connected to those immortal practitioners of Eastern myths."
"The Xian cultivators?" Ritsuka asked, perking up.
"Precisely!" Da Vinci's finger tapped excitedly against her tablet. "Their energy signatures left unique patterns that could help us calibrate the summoning circle. I think it's a good time for a routine summoning—something to refresh our ranks. Nothing major, mind you. Likely a lower-tier Rider or Assassin-class Servant at most."
Ritsuka considered it, then nodded. After the intensity of the last Lostbelt, a minor summoning seemed almost relaxing. "Sure, why not? I could use something straightforward today."
"Excellent!" Da Vinci clapped her hands together. "I'll prepare the summoning chamber. Meet me there in thirty minutes!"
🌀 The Summoning Room
The circular chamber hummed with energy, blue light pulsing along inscribed lines in the floor. Ritsuka stood at the designated summoning position, Saint Quartz fragments arranged in the proper formation. Da Vinci monitored readings from a control panel while Mash, having finished her training, stood by with a towel around her neck.
"All parameters are optimal," Da Vinci announced. "I've incorporated those new calibrations based on the leyline fluctuations. The system is predicting a 78% chance of an Assassin-class manifestation."
"Any specific catalyst?" Ritsuka asked, preparing to begin the ritual.
"Just the energy patterns themselves. I thought we'd leave it somewhat to chance," Da Vinci replied with a wink. "Makes it more exciting!"
Mash shifted nervously. "Just... be careful, Senpai. Even routine summonings have variables."
Ritsuka nodded, then took a deep breath and began the incantation. The circle responded immediately, the familiar words and gestures of the summoning ritual causing the Saint Quartz fragments to dissolve into motes of light that swirled around the chamber.
"Normal response patterns," Da Vinci noted, eyes on her monitoring equipment. "Energy consumption within expected parameters."
And then—something changed.
The gentle blue glow of the summoning circle suddenly pulsed gold. Not the expected single flash, but three distinct pulses, each more intense than the last. The air in the room grew still, as though all molecular movement had paused in anticipation.
"Da Vinci?" Mash called out, alarm evident in her voice.
The genius inventor was frantically working her console. "Energy levels spiking! This... this isn't normal for a routine summoning. The mana draw is—"
She never finished her sentence because a soft pressure filled the room, like eternity itself had just exhaled. The sensation wasn't violent or explosive as many powerful Servant summonings were. Instead, it was a profound stillness, a weight of presence that seemed to dampen all other magical energies in the vicinity.
Where they expected the typical whirlwind of manifestation or a dramatic Servant introduction, there was simply... a man.
Sitting. Cross-legged. Eyes closed. He appeared in perfect meditation posture, as though he had been there all along and they had merely failed to notice him previously. His robes were simple yet elegant, flowing white fabric with subtle blue trim that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. Long black hair cascaded down his back, partially secured with a jade ornament.
Most striking was the aura surrounding him—not the flashy magical energy of most Servants, but a profound calm that radiated outward, creating a sphere of absolute tranquility.
"Han Jue," Da Vinci whispered, her instruments going haywire. "It can't be..."
The man's eyes remained closed, his breathing so shallow it was barely perceptible. For nearly a full minute, no one in the room spoke, afraid to disturb whatever delicate balance had been struck.
Finally, Ritsuka took a tentative step forward. "I am Ritsuka Fujimaru, Master of Chaldea. Are you... a Servant who has answered our call?"
Slowly, the man's eyes opened. They were clear as mountain springs, revealing depths that seemed to stretch beyond what human eyes should contain. When he spoke, his voice was neither loud nor particularly commanding, yet it resonated with a clarity that made every syllable feel deliberate and meaningful.
"I am Han Jue. I was in secluded cultivation when something pulled at my consciousness." He glanced around the room with mild curiosity. "This is not my cave on True Spirit Mountain."
Da Vinci approached cautiously, her analytical mind already working overtime. "You've been summoned to Chaldea, a facility dedicated to preserving human history. But... according to our records, Han Jue isn't a Heroic Spirit registered in the Throne."
Han Jue tilted his head slightly. "Heroic Spirit? Throne?" A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "Interesting concepts. However, I have no interest in heroism, and I abandoned pursuit of thrones long ago."
Mash stepped forward, shield still at the ready. "If you're not a Servant, then what are you? How were you summoned here?"
Han Jue raised a hand, and a small globe of pure spiritual energy formed above his palm—not the mana that Servants typically manipulated, but something more fundamental, more pristine.
"I am a cultivator who has achieved the Void Tribulation Realm. Perhaps your summoning ritual resonated with my Dao heart at a moment when the boundaries between realms were thin." He closed his hand, and the energy dissipated. "Or perhaps this is merely another trial on my path to the Great Dao."
Ritsuka felt a chill run down his spine. Whatever—whoever—Han Jue was, he clearly possessed power beyond ordinary Servant parameters. Yet there was no hostility in his demeanor, only a profound detachment tinged with the faintest hint of curiosity.
"Well," Ritsuka said finally, extending a hand, "welcome to Chaldea, Han Jue. Intentional or not, your arrival here might be fate."
Han Jue looked at the offered hand for a long moment before slowly rising to his feet in a single fluid motion. Standing, he was tall and possessed a dignified bearing that seemed both ageless and timeless.
"Fate," he repeated, testing the word. "I transcended fate long ago. But perhaps there is something to learn here." Instead of taking Ritsuka's hand, he offered a formal bow. "I shall observe your Chaldea. For a time."
Da Vinci's instruments finally stabilized, and she looked up with wide eyes. "His spiritual core readings... they're off the charts, but completely different from any Servant I've ever measured. It's like he's not drawing power from the Throne at all, but generating it internally."
Han Jue's gaze shifted to her. "The body is but a vessel for the spirit. The spirit is but a vessel for the Dao. Through ten thousand years of cultivation, I have refined my vessel until it needs no external source."
"Ten thousand years?" Mash echoed incredulously.
"More or less," Han Jue replied with the casual air of someone discussing the weather. "Time grows fluid when one reaches certain realms of cultivation."
As they stood there, trying to process the implications of what—who—they had summoned, an alarm suddenly blared throughout the facility.
"Emergency in Sector 7!" a computerized voice announced. "Magical energy disturbance detected. All security personnel report!"
Ritsuka's communicator buzzed, and Holmes's voice came through: "Master, we have a situation. It appears that whatever you've summoned has created a rift—something is following through!"
Han Jue's expression remained serene, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Ah. It seems my presence has disturbed something. The Great Dao's equilibrium seeks to restore itself."
"What does that mean?" Ritsuka asked urgently.
"It means," Han Jue said, his robes beginning to flutter though there was no wind, "that where I go, certain entities inevitably follow. Forgive me for bringing trouble to your doorstep so quickly."
As if on cue, the walls of Chaldea groaned, and the distant sound of something large impacting the facility echoed through the corridors.
Han Jue sighed softly. "Ten thousand years of hiding, and still they find me. How persistent the Heavenly Court can be."
🔮 The Unexpected Visitor
Alarms continued to blare as Ritsuka, Mash, and Da Vinci rushed toward Sector 7, with Han Jue gliding silently behind them, seemingly unbothered by the emergency. His movements were effortless, as though gravity held only a suggestion for him rather than a law.
"What exactly is following you?" Ritsuka called back as they ran.
"Most likely a Heavenly Tribulation beast," Han Jue replied calmly. "When one achieves certain levels of cultivation, the heavens send tribulations to test worthiness. Or perhaps it's an envoy from the Immortal Courts, come to persuade me to return to celestial politics."
"And these are... dangerous?" Mash asked, shield at the ready.
Han Jue's serene expression never wavered. "To mortals? Exceedingly. To this facility? Certainly. To me?" He paused thoughtfully. "A minor inconvenience, at worst."
They rounded the corner to find chaos. A section of the reinforced wall had been breached, Antarctic winds howling through the opening. Standing in the gap was a figure that defied easy description—humanoid but clearly not human, with gleaming golden armor that seemed to be part of its actual body. Its face was noble yet terrible, with eyes that burned like twin suns.
"Han Jue!" the figure's voice resonated with supernatural authority. "By decree of the Jade Emperor himself, your self-exile ends today. The Celestial Courts require your presence for the coming Heavenly Alignment."
Several Chaldea security personnel lay unconscious around the chamber, and Servants were beginning to arrive—Emiya with his bow drawn, Cu Chulainn with Gae Bolg at the ready.
"General Zhao," Han Jue acknowledged with the barest nod. "Your persistence is admirable, if misguided. I left the Celestial Courts for good reason."
"The Jade Emperor?" Ritsuka whispered to Da Vinci. "As in Chinese mythology?"
Da Vinci's eyes were wide with wonder and scientific curiosity. "It seems our summoning tapped into something far more significant than heroic spirits. We've somehow made contact with actual divine beings from Eastern cosmology."
General Zhao took a thunderous step forward, golden light crackling around him. "The Heavenly Bureaucracy faces crisis, Immortal Han. The Demon Kings stir in the Dark Realms. The Jade Emperor himself acknowledges that your insights are needed."
"My insights have always been the same," Han Jue replied, still perfectly calm. "Withdraw from worldly affairs. Cultivate inner tranquility. The struggles of demons and gods matter little to one who seeks the eternal Dao."
The general's face twisted with anger. "Your selfishness knows no bounds! While you meditate in seclusion, the three realms face catastrophe!"
"Excuse me," Ritsuka interjected, stepping forward despite Mash's protective arm trying to hold him back. "I'm Ritsuka Fujimaru, Master of Chaldea. This facility is under my protection, and you've damaged our property and harmed our personnel. I must ask you to state your business properly or leave."
General Zhao turned his burning gaze toward Ritsuka, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise by several degrees. "Mortal, you overstep. This affair is beyond your comprehension."
"On the contrary," Han Jue said smoothly, moving to stand between Ritsuka and the general. "This mortal has shown me hospitality. By the ancient codes of courtesy that even the Jade Emperor observes, you owe him respect while in his domain."
The general hesitated, celestial protocol clearly warring with his mission objectives.
"Furthermore," Han Jue continued, "I sense that this place—this Chaldea—stands at an important nexus of fate for the human realm. Damaging it further would draw the attention of forces even the Celestial Courts prefer not to antagonize."
"What forces?" the general demanded.
Han Jue merely smiled enigmatically. "The Dao works in mysterious ways, General. Now, shall we discuss this matter civilly, or must I demonstrate why I was once the Jade Emperor's most valued advisor on matters of cosmic balance?"
As he spoke these last words, a subtle change came over Han Jue. Nothing visibly altered in his appearance, yet suddenly everyone in the room felt a vast, incomprehensible pressure, as though an ocean had been suspended above their heads, held back only by Han Jue's will.
General Zhao took an involuntary step backward, golden armor dimming slightly. "You... have grown even stronger in your exile."
"I have had nothing but time to cultivate," Han Jue acknowledged. "Now, shall we speak as civilized immortals, or must I insist more forcefully?"
The general's fierce expression faltered, then resolved into grudging respect. "Very well. I will convey your words to the Jade Emperor." He turned to Ritsuka and offered a stiff bow. "Forgive my intrusion, Master of Chaldea. The urgency of my mission clouded my judgment."
Ritsuka, still processing the extraordinary exchange he had just witnessed, managed a nod. "No lasting harm done. We can arrange repairs."
General Zhao turned back to Han Jue. "This isn't finished, Immortal Han. The coming crisis affects all realms, even your precious solitude."
"Few things truly end, General," Han Jue replied philosophically. "But perhaps for now, you could depart without further damaging this interesting facility?"
With a final glowering look, General Zhao stepped backward, his form beginning to shimmer with golden light. "Three days, Immortal Han. I will return in three days for your final answer." With that, he vanished in a blaze of celestial fire, leaving behind only the damaged wall and bewildered Chaldea staff.
In the silence that followed, Da Vinci was the first to recover her composure. "Well! That was certainly not the outcome our routine summoning was calibrated to produce."
Han Jue turned to Ritsuka, and for the first time, a hint of genuine interest showed in his ageless eyes. "You stood before a Celestial General without fear. Interesting. Perhaps there is more to this Chaldea than I initially perceived."
Ritsuka shrugged, the adrenaline of the moment beginning to fade. "We've faced gods before. And demons. And all sorts of mythological beings."
"Have you indeed?" Han Jue's eyebrow raised slightly. "Then perhaps fate—or something beyond fate—has guided my steps here for a reason after all." He looked around at the gathered Servants and staff. "I think, Master Ritsuka Fujimaru, that I would like to learn more about this place and its purpose."
Da Vinci stepped forward eagerly. "Well, as Chaldea's resident genius, I would be delighted to explain our mission to preserve human history through—"
Han Jue raised a hand, politely interrupting. "First, perhaps we should repair this damage. The Antarctic cold seems unpleasant for mortals."
With a gesture that seemed deceptively simple, Han Jue moved his hand in a circular pattern. The destroyed wall materials—metal, composites, and insulation—began to flow back into place like water reversing its course, molecular bonds reforming until, within seconds, the wall stood intact again, not even a seam showing where the breach had been.
"There," he said simply. "Now, I believe you mentioned something about preserving human history? This concept intrigues me. In my ten thousand years, I have observed that mortals rarely recognize the value of their own past."
As the crisis subsided and regular operations resumed, Ritsuka found himself wondering just what kind of entity they had accidentally summoned—and what his presence might mean for Chaldea's future.
Han Jue, seeming to sense his thoughts, offered a small, knowing smile. "Do not concern yourself overmuch, young Master. The Dao flows as it will. We are but leaves upon its currents, though some of us have learned to navigate its eddies better than others."
And somehow, despite the chaos of the morning, Ritsuka found those words strangely comforting.
📚 The Library Encounter
Later that afternoon, after the excitement of the morning had somewhat subsided, Ritsuka sought a moment of quiet reflection in Chaldea's extensive library. The space was one of the few areas designed with comfort rather than pure functionality in mind—plush chairs nestled between tall bookshelves filled with tomes collected from across human history.
To his surprise, he found Han Jue already there, seated cross-legged not in one of the chairs but hovering several inches above a reading table. Around him floated seven different books, their pages turning by themselves as his eyes darted from one text to another with inhuman speed.
"Fascinating," Han Jue murmured, apparently to himself. "So many different interpretations of cultivation paths, each filtered through cultural perspectives."
Ritsuka cleared his throat gently. "Finding our collection interesting?"
Han Jue's attention shifted to him, though the books continued their automated dance. "Master Fujimaru. Yes, quite interesting indeed. Your repository contains texts I have not encountered in my millennia of study." He gestured to the floating books. "Though I find your world's understanding of spiritual cultivation to be... charmingly simplistic."
"I'm not surprised," Ritsuka said, taking a seat nearby. "Most modern humans don't practice cultivation at all, at least not in the way you seem to."
"A pity," Han Jue replied, with genuine regret in his voice. "The path to immortality lies open to all who would walk it with sufficient dedication."
"Immortality isn't always seen as desirable in our literature," Ritsuka noted, gesturing toward one of the floating books—a collection of Greek myths.
This comment seemed to genuinely surprise Han Jue. "Truly? How curious. In my experience, the fear of death drives most mortal endeavors, whether acknowledged or not."
"Maybe so," Ritsuka conceded. "But there are stories about the loneliness of immortality, watching loved ones die while you continue on forever."
Han Jue nodded thoughtfully, allowing the books to gently close and settle back onto the table. "A concern of the early cultivation stages. Once one transcends certain mortal attachments, such emotional entanglements fade in importance."
"That sounds... lonely," Ritsuka ventured.
"Loneliness is a mortal concept," Han Jue replied, though something in his tone suggested the matter wasn't quite as settled as his words implied. "When one communes with the Dao directly, one is never truly alone."
Before Ritsuka could respond, they were interrupted by the arrival of another Servant—the scholarly Hans Christian Andersen, his small form laden with a stack of reference materials almost as tall as himself.
"Excuse me," the writer grumbled, navigating around them. "Some of us are trying to do actual research rather than floating about like pretentious mystics."
Han Jue observed the small Servant with evident curiosity. "Your form is that of a child, yet your spirit bears the weight of an old man's cynicism. Interesting."
Andersen shot him a suspicious glare. "And you are?"
"This is Han Jue," Ritsuka explained. "Our newest... arrival. He's a cultivator who achieved immortality through Taoist practices."
"Hmph," Andersen snorted, dropping his books onto a nearby table with a hefty thud. "Another immortal with delusions of grandeur. We've plenty of those already."
Rather than taking offense, Han Jue appeared amused. "A sharp tongue often masks a keen mind. You remind me of the poet Li Bai—brilliant, caustic, and constantly dissatisfied with the world as it is."
Andersen paused, clearly not expecting such a response. "I'm familiar with Li Bai's work. Overrated, if you ask me. Too much emphasis on natural beauty, not enough on human nature's ugly truths."
"He would have agreed with you, especially after his seventh cup of wine," Han Jue said with a small smile. "I found his company most stimulating during the Tang Dynasty. His drunken rants about imperial corruption were particularly insightful."
Andersen's eyes widened slightly. "You... knew Li Bai personally?"
"I have known many poets and philosophers through the ages," Han Jue said simply. "Though I prefer solitude, occasionally I find mortal perspectives... refreshing."
"Wait," Ritsuka interjected, suddenly connecting dots. "If you knew Li Bai during the Tang Dynasty, that would place you historically around—"
"The 8th century of your calendar, yes," Han Jue confirmed. "Though I had already been practicing cultivation for several thousand years by then. Time moves differently when one reaches certain realms of existence."
Andersen put down the book he'd been holding, his scholarly interest evidently piqued despite his initial skepticism. "So you claim to have witnessed human history unfold over millennia? Firsthand?"
"Parts of it," Han Jue clarified. "I spent many centuries in secluded meditation, emerging only occasionally when something of particular interest occurred. The rise and fall of dynasties holds little novelty after you've witnessed it a dozen times."
"What about the great works of literature?" Andersen pressed, professional curiosity getting the better of his usual cynicism. "Did you read them as they were written?"
Han Jue's expression softened slightly. "Some. The Dream of the Red Chamber was particularly insightful regarding the illusory nature of mortal desires. Journey to the West was amusing, if wildly inaccurate in its portrayal of immortal politics."
"Inaccurate?" Ritsuka asked.
"The real Sun Wukong was far more troublesome than the novel suggests," Han Jue said with a hint of what might have been exasperation. "And the Jade Emperor is not nearly so easily fooled."
As they conversed, the library door opened again, and Zhuge Liang—or rather, Lord El-Melloi II hosting the ancient strategist's powers—entered with a stack of research materials. He stopped short upon seeing the gathering.
"I wasn't aware the library was hosting a literary salon today," he remarked dryly.
Han Jue turned, and for the first time since his arrival, genuine surprise registered on his face. "Kongming? No... yet something of him resides within you."
Lord El-Melloi II stiffened. "You can sense the Servant within me?"
"I can sense many things," Han Jue replied cryptically. "Zhuge Liang's strategic mind left an indelible mark on the flow of qi in the mortal realm. Though your vessel is different, the essence is recognizable."
"How did you know Zhuge Liang?" Ritsuka asked. "He lived during the Three Kingdoms period, right?"
"I observed him from afar," Han Jue said. "His strategic brilliance interested me academically. Few mortals understand how to manipulate the subtle flows of advantage as he did. It was almost like watching a nascent cultivator, though he never took that path."
Lord El-Melloi II approached cautiously, scholarly interest warring with ingrained caution. "Da Vinci mentioned we had summoned something unusual. I didn't expect an actual immortal from Taoist legends."
"Not legends," Han Jue corrected gently. "Though I understand why you might perceive it that way. Your modern world has lost much of its connection to the underlying principles of reality."
"Underlying principles?" Lord El-Melloi II's eyes narrowed. "You mean magecraft?"
Han Jue made a dismissive gesture. "Magecraft, as you call it, merely scratches the surface of what the Dao encompasses. True cultivation begins where your magic ends."
The tension in the air grew palpable as two fundamentally different worldviews collided. Ritsuka, sensing the potential for conflict, decided to intervene.
"Perhaps we could arrange a more formal exchange of knowledge?" he suggested. "Lord El-Melloi is one of our foremost magical theorists, and I'm sure both of you could learn from each other's perspectives."
Han Jue considered this for a moment, then inclined his head. "An interesting proposition. It has been some time since I engaged in scholarly debate. The last was with a Buddhist monk in the 15th century—a discussion that lasted for three months without pause."
"Three months without pause?" Andersen repeated incredulously. "Without eating or sleeping?"
"Such bodily concerns become optional at higher cultivation stages," Han Jue explained matter-of-factly. "Though I did enjoy the tea the monastery provided."
Lord El-Melloi II straightened his jacket, professional curiosity clearly winning out. "I would be interested in comparing notes on Eastern and Western mystical traditions. Perhaps tomorrow, after I've had time to prepare some reference materials?"
"Tomorrow," Han Jue agreed with a slight nod. "Though I should warn you—many who delve into the true principles of cultivation find their previous understandings... challenged."
As the conversation continued, Ritsuka couldn't help but feel that Han Jue's accidental summoning might prove to be one of the most consequential events in Chaldea's history. An immortal cultivator with millennia of experience and knowledge, untethered from the conventional Servant system, represented both an unprecedented opportunity and a potential complication.
And somewhere out there, a Celestial General was counting down three days until his return—bringing with him the politics of heaven itself.
🍵 Tea with the Doctor
The medical bay of Chaldea was typically a place of healing and recovery, but this evening it had been transformed into an impromptu tea room. Dr. Roman sat across from Han Jue, a traditional Chinese tea set arranged between them on a small table. The doctor's usual lab coat was draped over his chair, and he leaned forward with intense curiosity as Han Jue performed the tea ceremony with practiced precision.
"The water must be precisely 85 degrees for this white tea," Han Jue explained, his movements fluid and deliberate as he poured the steaming liquid in a circular motion around the small cups. "Too hot, and the subtle notes are scorched away. Too cool, and the essence remains trapped within the leaves."
Dr. Roman watched, fascinated. "I've read about traditional tea ceremonies, but I've never seen one performed by someone who's been practicing it for... well, millennia."
Han Jue allowed himself a small smile. "This particular ceremony is relatively recent—a mere few centuries old. The true art of tea cultivation and preparation was perfected during the Song Dynasty. Before that, tea was often compressed into bricks and prepared quite differently."
He handed a cup to Roman, who accepted it with both hands as proper etiquette dictated.
"Thank you for agreeing to this examination," Roman said, inhaling the delicate aroma of the tea. "As Chaldea's Chief Medical Officer, I'm responsible for monitoring the health and stability of all our... residents."
"A curious concept," Han Jue replied, "examining one who has transcended bodily concerns. But I understand your responsibility to this place and its people." He gestured elegantly. "Proceed with your questions, Doctor."
Roman took a sip of tea and his eyes widened in appreciation. "This is extraordinary!"
"The leaf remembers the mountain where it grew," Han Jue said cryptically. "As do we all."
Setting down his cup, Roman activated a holographic display that showed various readings and scans. "When you arrived, our systems attempted to classify you according to our normal parameters for Servants and mystical entities. The results were... unusual."
The display showed a swirling mass of energy unlike the structured patterns typical of Servants.
"Your spiritual core doesn't match any known pattern. It's not drawing mana from the environment like a Servant, yet it's not structured like a living human's either. It's more like..."
"A self-contained universe," Han Jue finished for him. "Yes, that is an apt description of the Golden Dan one achieves at the Void Realm stage of cultivation. My physical body exists in perfect harmony with the internalized Dao, creating a perpetual cycle of energy that requires no external source."
Roman leaned forward, professional curiosity fully engaged. "That's remarkable. Theoretically, it should be impossible according to our understanding of magical energetics."
"Many things are impossible until they are achieved," Han Jue noted philosophically. "The boundaries of possibility are often merely the limitations of perception."
"May I ask..." Roman hesitated, then continued. "What is it like? To live for thousands of years, to transcend human limitations?"
Han Jue considered the question carefully, taking a measured sip of his tea before responding. "Imagine watching a mountain gradually wear away to nothing, only to see new mountains rise elsewhere. Imagine seeing forests grow from barren earth, flourish for centuries, then wither away again. Human empires are like this—transient patterns in the eternal flow of the Dao."
He set down his cup. "At first, there is wonder at the scope of time unfolding before you. Then comes detachment, as you recognize the cyclical nature of all things. Finally, there is a deeper appreciation—not for permanence, which is illusion, but for the perfect impermanence of each moment."
Roman listened, enraptured by the perspective. "Do you... miss being human? Having normal connections?"
Something flickered briefly in Han Jue's ageless eyes—perhaps a hint of an emotion long suppressed. "One cannot miss what one has transcended. Though..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "there is a certain... purity to mortal experiences. The intensity that comes from limited time gives human emotions a vibrancy that is difficult to replicate when time stretches endlessly before you."
"Is that why you left the Celestial Courts?" Roman asked. "To seek solitude?"
"Partially," Han Jue acknowledged. "Immortal politics quickly become tedious when you recognize that the same conflicts repeat with different actors every few centuries. The Jade Emperor maintains order, but even heaven is not immune to ambition and intrigue."
He refilled their teacups with practiced grace. "I found greater wisdom in quiet contemplation of the Dao than in the endless maneuvering of celestial bureaucracy."
Roman nodded thoughtfully. "Yet now you've been pulled into our struggle to preserve human history."
"Indeed," Han Jue said, a hint of genuine curiosity entering his voice. "Your Chaldea fascinates me. In all my observations of humanity, I've rarely seen mortals take such direct responsibility for the grand tapestry of history itself."
"It's our mission," Roman said simply. "When the Incineration of Humanity threatened to erase all human history, we couldn't stand by and do nothing."
Han Jue's eyebrow raised slightly. "Incineration? An interesting choice of words. The cleansing fire is often a metaphor in cultivation texts—burning away impurity to reveal the essential nature of things."
"This was no metaphor," Roman said grimly. "A being of immense power attempted to literally burn away human history from its foundation to its apex. Only Chaldea, existing outside normal time, was able to observe and counteract this threat."
"And now you face these... Lostbelts?" Han Jue asked. "Da Vinci explained the concept briefly. Alternate histories that seek to overwrite your own."
Roman nodded. "Pruned timelines that should have faded from existence but instead are being artificially sustained and expanded. Each represents a different path humanity might have taken—one where gods continue to rule directly, another where humanity merged with machines..."
"The branching paths of possibility," Han Jue mused. "In Taoist cosmology, we speak of ten thousand worlds, each a reflection of choices made or unmade. Your Lostbelts sound similar in concept, if more limited in scope."
He raised his hand, an
He raised his hand, and a small sphere of energy appeared above his palm, swirling with myriad colors that seemed to shift and blend into one another. "In higher realms of cultivation, one can perceive these alternate realities—like viewing reflections in a pond of still water."
Roman stared at the sphere, mesmerized. "Can you... travel between them?"
"With great difficulty and at considerable cost," Han Jue replied, closing his hand and dispelling the sphere. "The boundaries between worlds are not meant to be casually traversed. Those who force such passages often create ripples that distort the natural order."
"Like our Lostbelts," Roman murmured. "Forced intrusions into the proper flow of time."
"Precisely." Han Jue nodded approvingly. "Your understanding shows wisdom, Doctor. To maintain the proper flow of the Dao—or history, as you call it—requires recognizing which streams should flow and which should return to the source."
The medical bay doors slid open, and Nightingale entered, her crisp uniform immaculate as always. She paused upon seeing the impromptu tea ceremony.
"Dr. Roman, I've completed the injury reports from this morning's incident," she announced, eyes narrowing as she assessed Han Jue. "Is this the new arrival? The one responsible for the breach?"
"Indirectly responsible," Han Jue corrected gently. "General Zhao's impatience and lack of proper etiquette caused the actual damage."
Nightingale approached with clinical precision, her gaze analytical. "I understand you healed the wall, but what about the personnel who were rendered unconscious by the celestial general's presence? Have you examined their spiritual energies for contamination?"
Han Jue looked mildly surprised at her directness. "I had assumed your medical facilities would attend to them. Though you raise a valid concern—exposure to raw celestial qi can sometimes disrupt mortal energy meridians."
"Then you should assist in their treatment," Nightingale stated firmly, her tone allowing no argument. "If you understand the cause, you should participate in the cure. That is proper medical protocol."
Roman looked somewhat embarrassed. "Nightingale, this is Han Jue, an immortal cultivator. He's not actually medical staff—"
"Anyone with healing knowledge has a duty to apply it," Nightingale cut him off, her intense focus entirely on Han Jue now. "Will you assist, or must I insist?"
Rather than taking offense at her manner, Han Jue appeared quietly amused. "Your dedication to healing is admirable. It reminds me of the physician Hua Tuo, who would treat any patient regardless of status or circumstance." He rose smoothly to his feet. "Lead me to these patients, Healer Nightingale. I will examine their qi meridians."
As Nightingale led him toward the recovery ward, Roman hurried after them, simultaneously concerned and fascinated by this unexpected development.
In the ward, three security staff members lay on medical beds, their vital signs stable but each showing signs of unusual energy patterns on the monitoring equipment.
"Their conditions are physically stable," Nightingale explained, "but they have not regained consciousness despite normal brain activity. Something unusual is affecting their nervous systems."
Han Jue approached the nearest bed, his expression turning serious as he held his hand several inches above the patient's chest. "Yes, I see the disruption. When mortals are exposed to concentrated celestial qi without preparation, it can create blockages in their energy pathways—similar to how untrained cultivators might experience qi deviation during breakthrough attempts."
He closed his eyes in concentration, and his palm began to emit a soft blue glow. "With your permission, I will realign their energy flows."
Roman hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Proceed."
With methodical precision, Han Jue moved his glowing hand along invisible lines above each patient's body, occasionally pausing to make subtle adjustments with his fingers, as though plucking at unseen strings. The room's lighting flickered slightly, and the monitoring equipment displayed erratic readings before stabilizing again.
After several minutes of this careful work, the first patient stirred, eyelids fluttering before opening fully.
"What... happened?" the security officer murmured groggily.
"You experienced qi shock," Han Jue explained calmly. "Your body's natural energy was temporarily overwhelmed by a stronger force. I have realigned your meridians, but you should rest for at least a day to allow your own qi to regain its natural rhythm."
Nightingale immediately moved in to check the patient's vital signs, her expression skeptical but increasingly impressed as she reviewed the readings. "Heart rate normal. Blood pressure stabilizing. Neurological responses returning to baseline parameters."
Han Jue proceeded to treat the other two patients with similar results. When he had finished, he turned to Roman and Nightingale. "They will recover fully with rest. Their exposure was brief enough to avoid permanent damage."
"Fascinating," Roman breathed, reviewing the medical data. "You've essentially treated a spiritual condition that our equipment could barely detect, let alone address."
"The spirit and body are not separate entities but aspects of the same whole," Han Jue explained. "Your medical science focuses primarily on the physical vessel. Cultivation addresses the entirety of existence."
Nightingale, who had been carefully observing his techniques, stepped forward. "Could these methods be adapted to treat other conditions? Infections? Trauma?"
"To some extent," Han Jue acknowledged. "Though the principles require years of study to master properly."
"I am willing to learn if you are willing to teach," Nightingale stated firmly. "Any technique that improves patient outcomes is worth studying."
Han Jue regarded her with newfound respect. "Your dedication is rare, even among immortals. Perhaps I could demonstrate some basic principles of qi manipulation for medical purposes."
As they continued their discussion, Roman watched with growing wonder. In less than a day, Han Jue had already begun to integrate himself into Chaldea's operations, bringing knowledge and techniques entirely outside their usual frame of reference.
And yet, Roman couldn't help but remember the celestial general's warning—and the three-day deadline that was now one day closer to expiration.
🌠 Midnight Conversation
Night in Chaldea was a relative concept. In the depths of Antarctica, the facility maintained its own rhythm independent of the sun's cycle. The observation deck, with its vast reinforced windows looking out over the icy landscape, was illuminated only by the spectacular aurora australis dancing across the polar sky—waves of green, blue, and violet shimmering against the darkness.
Unable to sleep, Ritsuka found himself drawn to this quiet space, hoping the hypnotic patterns of the southern lights might calm his racing thoughts. To his surprise, he found Han Jue already there, standing motionless before the panoramic view, hands clasped behind his back.
The immortal cultivator didn't turn as Ritsuka approached, but spoke softly: "The collision of charged particles from your sun with the magnetic field of this planet... creating illumination that appears random yet follows precise patterns. Nature's cultivation in visible form."
"It's beautiful," Ritsuka agreed, coming to stand beside him. "I never get tired of watching it."
"Beauty that arises from conflict," Han Jue observed. "The solar wind meets resistance, and from that tension comes light. An apt metaphor for many things."
They stood in companionable silence for several minutes, watching the ethereal display. Finally, Ritsuka voiced the question that had been troubling him since morning.
"When General Zhao returns... what will you do?"
Han Jue remained still, his ageless face illuminated by the shifting colors of the aurora. "A question I have been contemplating myself. The Jade Emperor rarely requests assistance directly. If he has done so now, the situation in the Celestial Courts must indeed be dire."
"Could it affect Earth? Our history?" Ritsuka asked, thinking of Chaldea's mission.
"The three realms—Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld—exist in delicate balance," Han Jue explained. "Major disruptions in one inevitably affect the others. If the Demon Kings are truly rising as Zhao claims, then yes, the mortal realm could face consequences."
He turned slightly, regarding Ritsuka with newfound curiosity. "You bear great responsibility for one so young. I have observed you throughout this day—how the Servants respond to you, how the staff trusts your judgment. You carry the weight of human history on your shoulders."
Ritsuka shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable with the directness of Han Jue's assessment. "I do what needs to be done. We all do."
"Many say such words. Few truly mean them." Han Jue's gaze returned to the aurora. "In ten thousand years of observing humanity, I have seen countless leaders claim to serve greater purposes while pursuing personal gain. Your actions align with your words—a rare quality in any realm."
"Thank you," Ritsuka said simply, unsure how else to respond to praise from an immortal.
After another moment of silence, Han Jue spoke again, his voice thoughtful. "Perhaps there is symmetry in my unexpected arrival here. You protect human history from those who would rewrite it. The Jade Emperor now faces entities who would rewrite the very order of heaven itself."
"Are these Demon Kings similar to our enemies?" Ritsuka asked.
"In some ways," Han Jue acknowledged. "Though their motivations differ. The Demon Kings seek not alternate histories but dominion—the subjugation of all three realms under chaotic rule. They view the current celestial order as stagnant, restricting the natural evolution of existence."
"And what do you think?" Ritsuka ventured.
Han Jue raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. "Few have asked my opinion on such matters in centuries. Most immortals either assume they already know my thoughts or consider them irrelevant to practical concerns."
He considered for a moment before continuing. "The Jade Emperor maintains order, but at the cost of rigidity. The Demon Kings promise freedom, but their chaos would bring suffering to countless beings. Both extremes miss the essential wisdom of the Dao—that harmony arises not from imposed structure nor from absolute freedom, but from the natural balance between opposing forces."
"So you support neither side?"
"I support balance," Han Jue clarified. "When one force grows too dominant, equilibrium must be restored. In recent millennia, I have observed the Celestial Bureaucracy becoming increasingly isolated from the mortal realm, enforcing rules without understanding their impact. Perhaps this crisis is the natural correction—the Dao's way of forcing heaven to acknowledge its connection to earth once more."
Ritsuka nodded slowly, seeing parallels to Chaldea's own struggles with forces seeking to overturn the proper flow of human history. "So what will you tell General Zhao when he returns?"
Han Jue smiled enigmatically. "That depends greatly on what I learn in the coming days. Your Chaldea presents an unexpected perspective—mortals standing guard over their own destiny, neither deferring completely to higher powers nor rejecting cosmic order entirely."
He turned fully to face Ritsuka now. "Tell me, young Master—if you stood before the Jade Emperor himself and could ask one question about the nature of existence, what would you ask?"
The question caught Ritsuka off guard. He considered carefully before answering. "I think... I would ask why some timelines are deemed worthy of continuation while others are pruned away. Who decides which version of humanity deserves to exist?"
Han Jue's eyes widened slightly, genuine interest flickering across his usually serene features. "A profound question indeed. One that challenges the fundamental assumptions of cosmic governance."
"Is there an answer?" Ritsuka asked.
"Perhaps," Han Jue replied. "Though it may not be one the Jade Emperor himself fully comprehends. The Dao flows according to principles that even immortals struggle to fully grasp."
He raised his hand, and a small pattern of light formed above his palm—a miniature model of swirling galaxies and interconnected worlds. "Imagine existence as this—countless streams flowing together, separating, merging again in endless patterns. Some channels run dry naturally when they stray too far from sustainable paths. Others continue because they harmonize with the greater flow."
"But who decides what 'sustainable' means?" Ritsuka pressed. "Our enemies believe their Lostbelts represent better futures for humanity than our own history."
"And therein lies the heart of true cosmic governance," Han Jue said, closing his hand and extinguishing the display. "Not imposing one's will upon reality, but perceiving which paths align with the deeper currents of existence itself."
He placed a hand lightly on Ritsuka's shoulder—the first time he had initiated physical contact with anyone since his arrival. "Your question would greatly disturb the Jade Emperor. Which suggests it is precisely the question that should be asked."
Before Ritsuka could respond, a subtle change came over Han Jue's expression. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned his gaze upward, beyond the aurora to the stars beyond.
"Interesting," he murmured. "We are being observed."
"By what?" Ritsuka asked, instantly alert.
"Not the Celestial Court," Han Jue reassured him. "Something else... something that exists between the boundaries of your reality and others." He made a simple gesture with two fingers, and for an instant, Ritsuka thought he saw a ripple in the air, as though reality itself had shuddered.
"There," Han Jue said with satisfaction. "Privacy restored. This Chaldea of yours attracts attention from entities that exist outside conventional dimensions."
"We've dealt with extradimensional beings before," Ritsuka said grimly, thinking of their various encounters with entities from beyond normal space-time.
"No doubt," Han Jue agreed. "Your facility stands at a nexus point where multiple layers of reality intersect. An ideal location for one who wishes to observe the greater patterns of existence... or for one who seeks to hide from celestial oversight."
His expression turned thoughtful again. "Perhaps my arrival here was not entirely accidental. The Dao works in subtle ways, bringing together elements that need to interact precisely when such interaction becomes necessary."
"You think you were meant to come to Chaldea?" Ritsuka asked.
"I think," Han Jue said carefully, "that coincidences of such magnitude rarely occur without deeper currents guiding their flow. Your summoning ritual reached across barriers it should not have been able to penetrate. My meditation was interrupted at precisely the moment when your call resonated with my spiritual frequency."
He looked once more at the dancing lights of the aurora. "Two days remain before General Zhao returns. In that time, I would learn more about your struggle to preserve human history... and perhaps you might learn something of celestial politics that could aid your own battles."
"A cultural exchange," Ritsuka suggested with a small smile.
"Indeed." Han Jue nodded. "Knowledge flows both ways, like all aspects of the Dao. Now, you should rest—mortal bodies require regular cycles of restoration. Tomorrow promises to be... educational."
As Ritsuka turned to leave, Han Jue's voice stopped him once more: "One last thought, young Master. Consider this—what if your Lostbelts and our Demon Kings are merely symptoms of a greater imbalance affecting all planes of existence simultaneously? What if the threats you face and the crisis in heaven share a common source?"
The question lingered in the air between them, unanswered but unsettling in its implications. With a respectful nod, Ritsuka departed, leaving Han Jue alone with the aurora and his ancient thoughts.
🔍 The Training Ground Demonstration
Morning in Chaldea brought a buzz of anticipation. Word had spread quickly about their unusual visitor, and by the time Ritsuka arrived at the combat training facility, a substantial crowd had already gathered. Servants of various classes lined the observation deck above the reinforced arena—some curious, others skeptical, all interested in what was about to unfold.
Han Jue stood in the center of the training ground, still in the same simple white robes he'd arrived in, looking entirely unperturbed by the attention. Across from him stood Lord El-Melloi II, who had proposed this demonstration as a continuation of their library discussion—a practical comparison of magical theory versus cultivation techniques.
"Are you certain about this?" Ritsuka asked, joining Da Vinci at the control console. "El-Melloi is channeling Zhuge Liang's power. Those two were legendary rivals in Chinese history."
Da Vinci's eyes sparkled with scientific excitement. "Actually, that makes it even more fascinating! And don't worry—the training ground's containment systems have been reinforced to maximum capacity. Whatever happens, it will be contained."
Below, Lord El-Melloi addressed his opponent formally. "I propose a controlled demonstration of techniques—not a duel, but an exchange of knowledge through practical application."
Han Jue nodded his agreement. "A wise approach. Theory without demonstration lacks substance. What parameters do you suggest?"
"Three exchanges," El-Melloi proposed. "First, a demonstration of basic principles. Second, defensive capabilities. Third, practical application in a simulated scenario."
"Acceptable," Han Jue replied. He glanced up at the observation deck, noting the assembled Servants. "Though I sense some among your colleagues doubt the value of this exercise."
Indeed, several of the more combat-oriented Servants—Cu Chulainn, Mordred, and others—wore expressions ranging from skepticism to barely concealed amusement.
"Some believe that true power is demonstrated only in combat," El-Melloi acknowledged. "They are not entirely wrong, though their view is limited."
"Very well," Han Jue said. "Let us begin with the basics, then gradually increase complexity until even the most battle-hungry observers might find educational value."
El-Melloi raised his hands, and the familiar patterns of his magecraft began to glow around him—complex geometric arrays and formula-based constructs flowing from his fingertips. "Western magecraft relies on systematic principles—established formulae that manipulate reality through predetermined patterns."
The magical arrays expanded, creating a complex three-dimensional model that filled his half of the arena. "The magus creates a theoretical construct and imposes it upon reality, using personal mana and environmental energy as fuel for the transformation."
Han Jue observed with polite interest. "An external approach, then. Creating machinery to process power." He raised a single finger, and in contrast to El-Melloi's complex arrays, a simple point of light appeared. "Cultivation begins differently—not with external systems but with internal refinement."
The point of light expanded not into complex patterns but into a perfectly formed sphere of swirling energy. "The cultivator does not impose will upon reality but aligns personal essence with the fundamental nature of existence. The Dao flows through all things—cultivation merely opens one's being to this flow."
As he spoke, the sphere began to emit tendrils of light that moved with fluid grace, contrasting sharply with the more rigid structures of El-Melloi's magecraft.
"Interesting," El-Melloi noted. "Western mysticism contains similar concepts—the alignment of microcosm with macrocosm—but we've systematized the process rather than pursuing internal cultivation."
"Different paths to similar destinations," Han Jue acknowledged. "Though the journey shapes the traveler in profound ways."
From the observation deck, Gilgamesh's distinctive voice cut through the scholarly atmosphere: "Enough philosophical meandering! Show us what this 'cultivation' can actually do, Immortal."
Han Jue glanced up at the King of Heroes with mild amusement. "Impatience is the enemy of cultivation, Golden King. But perhaps a more dynamic demonstration would indeed be appropriate."
He looked to El-Melloi. "Shall we proceed to the second exchange? Defensive capabilities?"
El-Melloi nodded. "I propose a standard combat simulation. The system will generate magical attacks of increasing intensity, and we'll each demonstrate our preferred defensive methods."
Da Vinci activated the training program, and holographic attackers materialized around the arena's perimeter—combat homunculi armed with staff weapons that fired concentrated mana bolts.
El-Melloi moved first, rapidly constructing layered magical barriers around himself—concentric shells of protective spells that deflected the incoming attacks. "Standard defensive magecraft relies on barriers that oppose external force with counterforce," he explained as he maintained his shields.
The homunculi increased their attack intensity, forcing El-Melloi to constantly reinforce and restructure his barriers. Though effective, the strain of maintaining such comprehensive protection was evident in his expression.
When it was Han Jue's turn, he approached defense entirely differently. Rather than creating barriers, he simply stood in place, eyes half-closed in concentration. As the mana bolts approached him, strange things began to happen. Some shots curved away as though repelled by an invisible force. Others slowed dramatically, eventually hanging suspended in midair. A few seemed to pass through him entirely, yet caused no harm.
"Cultivation teaches that opposition creates resistance," Han Jue explained calmly as attacks continued to miss or fail around him. "True defense lies not in opposing force but in harmonizing with it, guiding its flow like water around stone."
El-Melloi watched with growing fascination. "You're not blocking the attacks—you're altering their relationship to yourself, changing how they interact with your existence."
"The arrow strikes only when arrow, target, and space between are in harmony," Han Jue confirmed. "Change any element of that equation, and impact becomes impossible."
From the observation deck, Scáthach leaned forward, her expert combat senses recognizing something profound in the demonstration. "He's manipulating causality itself," she observed to those nearby. "Not merely deflecting force but altering the conditions under which force can affect him."
The training program escalated to its highest difficulty, firing a concentrated beam of magical energy directly at Han Jue—the kind of attack that would overwhelm conventional defensive measures. Rather than avoid it, Han Jue simply raised one hand and made a circular motion. The beam followed the movement of his hand, curving around his body in a perfect loop before dispersing harmlessly into the air.
"Remarkable," El-Melloi breathed. "You redirected the attack without opposing its energy at all."
"The highest cultivation does not fight against the current," Han Jue said. "It becomes the riverbed that guides the water's flow."
The demonstration concluded with the training system powering down. El-Melloi approached Han Jue with newfound respect. "I believe we've established that our approaches differ significantly in methodology, though both can achieve impressive results."
"Indeed," Han Jue agreed. "Though I suspect our third exchange might prove most illuminating—practical application in a complex scenario."
Da Vinci's voice came over the communication system: "For the final demonstration, we've prepared a simulation based on a recent field condition—a destabilized leyline junction causing reality fluctuations. The objective is to stabilize the junction using your respective techniques."
The training ground shimmered and transformed, recreating a rocky landscape where visible cracks in reality leaked misty energy into the environment. At the center, a pulsing node of chaotic magical energy threatened to destabilize further.
El-Melloi went first, approaching the problem methodically. He established a network of magical circuits around the junction, creating pathways to redirect the excess energy. Using complex formulas and carefully positioned magical constructs, he gradually brought the fluctuations under control—a masterful display of magical engineering that drew appreciative nods from the magically inclined Servants observing.
"A sound approach," Han Jue acknowledged when El-Melloi had finished. "Creating external structures to channel and discipline the wild energy."
When it was his turn, the simulation reset to its chaotic state. Han Jue approached the unstable junction differently. Rather than working from the outside, he seated himself directly beside the pulsing node, assuming a meditation posture. For several long moments, he simply observed the chaotic energies, studying their patterns without interference.
Then, with deliberate precision, he placed his palm against the ground and closed his eyes. Rather than creating external structures, Han Jue himself began to change—his body seemingly becoming more transparent, more receptive to the flowing energies. The chaotic forces began to flow through him rather than outward, using his cultivated form as a natural conduit.
"He's making himself into a living leyline," El-Melloi realized with astonishment. "Becoming part of the energetic system rather than manipulating it from outside."
Gradually, the chaotic fluctuations stabilized, not through imposed order but through Han Jue's perfect harmonization with their natural rhythms. When he finally opened his eyes and stood, the simulation showed a completely balanced energy field, restored even more perfectly than El-Melloi's methodical approach had achieved.
"The external and the internal are not truly separate," Han Jue explained, rejoining El-Melloi. "By allowing myself to temporarily become one with the disrupted energies, I could guide them back to their natural state of balance."
A slow, appreciative applause began from the observation deck, led by Da Vinci and soon joined by others. Even some of the more skeptical Servants nodded in acknowledgment of the impressive display.
"I believe," El-Melloi said formally, "that we have much to learn from each other, Immortal Han. Your approach challenges many of our fundamental assumptions about magical theory."
"And your systematic knowledge offers perspectives I had not considered," Han Jue replied with equal respect. "Ten thousand years of solitary cultivation can sometimes lead to fixed patterns of thought. Fresh viewpoints are valuable, even to immortals."
As the demonstration concluded and the assembled Servants began to disperse, discussing what they had witnessed, Ritsuka approached Han Jue with newfound appreciation.
"That was incredible," he said sincerely. "I think you've earned the respect of even our most combat-focused Servants."
Han Jue inclined his head slightly. "Combat skill is but one measure of worth, yet I understand its value in your struggle. If my knowledge can aid Chaldea's mission in any way, I am pleased to share it."
His expression grew more serious. "Though I must remind you—one day remains before General Zhao returns. And if I know the Celestial Courts, he will not come alone this time."
"Do you think there will be trouble?" Ritsuka asked.
"Inevitably," Han Jue replied calmly. "The question is not whether conflict will arise, but how we choose to navigate it." He gazed thoughtfully around the training facility. "Your Servants are impressive by mortal standards, but celestial forces operate under different principles. We should prepare accordingly."
"What do you suggest?"
"A council of strategy," Han Jue said after a moment's contemplation. "Gather your wisest advisors—not just your strongest warriors. When dealing with heaven's politics, cunning often prevails where force cannot."
As they left the training ground, neither noticed the shimmer of golden light that briefly appeared in a corner of the facility—a distant observation portal through which watchful eyes from the Celestial Courts had been monitoring every moment of the demonstration.
In the Jade Emperor's palace, those same eyes narrowed in calculation. Han Jue had not lost his touch during his self-imposed exile. If anything, his powers had grown more refined, more subtle. Convincing him to return would require more than just General Zhao's forceful approach.
It would require leverage—perhaps in the form of these curious mortals who had somehow summoned an immortal of Han Jue's stature.
🎭 The Celestial Council
The final day arrived with a tension that permeated all of Chaldea. Security protocols had been elevated to maximum, and Servants were positioned strategically throughout the facility. In the central conference room, Ritsuka had assembled what Han Jue had termed a "council of strategy"—the facility's key thinkers and leaders gathered to prepare for General Zhao's return.
Da Vinci, Holmes, El-Melloi II, and Dr. Roman represented Chaldea's leadership. Among the Servants, those with strategic minds or diplomatic experience had been selected: Waver Velvet (channeling Zhuge Liang's tactical brilliance), Scheherazade with her knowledge of negotiation, Gilgamesh for his understanding of divine politics, and surprisingly, Hans Christian Andersen, whose sharp analytical mind Han Jue had specifically requested.
"The Celestial Court operates according to protocols and traditions dating back to the formation of heaven itself," Han Jue explained, standing at the center of the gathering. "General Zhao represents the military aspect, but the Jade Emperor rarely relies solely on force. We should expect additional representatives."
"What factions exist within this Celestial Court?" Holmes asked, fingers steepled in thought.
"Three primary divisions," Han Jue replied. "The Martial Court, led by generals like Zhao, responsible for maintaining order throughout the three realms. The Administrative Court, bureaucrats who manage the intricate systems governing fate, reincarnation, and cosmic balance. And the Scholarly Court, immortals dedicated to preserving and expanding celestial knowledge."
"And which did you belong to?" Gilgamesh inquired, his red eyes studying Han Jue with uncharacteristic interest.
"I was principal advisor to the Jade Emperor himself," Han Jue answered simply. "Outside the traditional structures, answering directly to heaven's ruler."
This revelation caused a stir among those assembled. Even Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow in grudging respect.
"No wonder the general seemed so intent on retrieving you," Da Vinci noted. "If you held such a position..."
"It has been vacant for millennia," Han Jue acknowledged. "My departure was... not entirely welcomed. But the Jade Emperor respected my decision enough not to pursue me—until now."
"What changed?" Ritsuka asked. "Why seek you out after all this time?"
Han Jue's expression grew distant. "The balance between order and chaos requires constant adjustment. If the Demon Kings are truly rising as Zhao claims, the cosmos approaches a critical inflection point. Such moments occur roughly every ten thousand years—cycles where fundamental patterns must either renew themselves or transform entirely."
"Like our pruning phenomenon," El-Melloi observed. "Timelines reaching divergence points where continuation or elimination is determined."
"A fitting parallel," Han Jue agreed. "In celestial terms, we are approaching what is known as the Great Heavenly Alignment—a rare astronomical event where all major spiritual realms briefly achieve perfect conjunction. During such alignments, the barriers between worlds thin dramatically."
"Creating opportunity for invasion," Holmes deduced.
"Precisely. The Demon Kings would seize this moment to merge the chaotic realms with the ordered ones—a cosmic restructuring that would fundamentally alter existence across all planes."
Scheherazade leaned forward. "In the stories of my homeland, such cosmic cycles are often depicted as battles between order and chaos, light and darkness. Is that an accurate characterization?"
"Partially," Han Jue replied. "Though the Celestial Court represents order, it has grown rigid over millennia. Though the Demon Kings embody chaos, some degree of change is necessary for growth. The true ideal lies in harmonious balance—evolution without destruction, stability without stagnation."
"And they believe you can help achieve this balance?" Ritsuka asked.
"My role as advisor was to perceive patterns others could not—to identify the subtle interventions that might guide events toward harmony rather than conflict. The Jade Emperor values this perspective, especially when facing threats that cannot be overcome through direct confrontation alone."
Holmes had been watching Han Jue intently throughout this explanation. "You speak of your former position with detachment, yet I sense an underlying tension. Your departure from the Celestial Court was not simply a philosophical choice, was it?"
Han Jue met the detective's perceptive gaze with a faint smile. "Your reputation for insight is well-deserved, Sherlock Holmes. Indeed, there were... complications. My advice regarding a previous cosmic crisis was rejected in favor of a more forceful approach. The resulting conflict left scars across multiple realms—consequences that might have been avoided."
"You resigned in protest," Andersen concluded bluntly. "Classic tale of the wise counselor whose warnings go unheeded by the powerful."
"A simplification, but not entirely inaccurate," Han Jue conceded. "I chose solitary cultivation over continued participation in a system I believed had lost its way."
Gilgamesh laughed suddenly, a sharp sound that drew all eyes to him. "How familiar this sounds! Gods who refuse to evolve, clinging to power while ignoring the consequences of their rigidity. It seems the heavens suffer the same follies as the pantheons of Earth."
"All power structures eventually calcify unless deliberately renewed," Han Jue agreed. "Which is why this current crisis presents both danger and opportunity."
"What do you recommend as our approach?" Ritsuka asked, bringing the discussion back to practical matters.
Han Jue considered carefully before answering. "When General Zhao returns, he will likely bring representatives from the other courts—individuals chosen to appeal to different aspects of my character or to exert specific pressures. We should prepare for multiple forms of persuasion, from appeals to duty to more forceful coercion."
"And your response will be?" Holmes inquired.
"That depends greatly on what I learn today," Han Jue replied, his gaze moving deliberately around the room. "Your Chaldea stands at a unique juncture in the flow of cosmic events. Your mission to preserve proper human history resonates with larger patterns I have observed. Perhaps there is synchronicity in our meeting that neither side fully comprehends yet."
Before anyone could respond, a facility-wide alert sounded—not the harsh alarm of an attack, but the measured tone indicating the approach of powerful entities.
"It seems our guests have arrived," Da Vinci announced, checking the monitoring systems. "And as predicted, General Zhao is not alone."
Sensor readings showed three distinct energy signatures materializing in the designated meeting area—a reinforced chamber that had been specially prepared for this encounter.
"Three representatives," Han Jue nodded. "One from each court, as tradition dictates. Shall we greet them?"
As they proceeded to the meeting chamber, Ritsuka found himself walking beside Han Jue. "Have you decided?" he asked quietly. "Will you return with them?"
The immortal's expression remained serene, but his eyes held a depth of consideration that hadn't been there before. "Three days ago, I would have refused without hesitation. Now..." He glanced at Ritsuka thoughtfully. "Now I find myself reconsidering many long-held certainties. Your Chaldea has provided an unexpected perspective."
"Whatever you decide," Ritsuka said sincerely, "thank you for sharing your knowledge with us."
Han Jue nodded, a gesture that somehow conveyed both acknowledgment and something deeper—a respect rarely granted by immortals to mortals. Then, squaring his shoulders, he led the way into what promised to be a most unusual negotiation.
🔱 Heaven's Emissaries
The meeting chamber had been transformed under Da Vinci's direction. Traditional Chinese design