The temperature within the Council Courtyard dropped the moment Lord Dorian Arkanveil and Lord Vaelthorn—Ignis's grandfather—locked eyes. Both men had long been regarded as twin pillars of the human continent, famed for their unmatched might and battle wisdom.
But only one of them had ever truly stood on top.
A ripple of pressure spread across the courtyard as Dorian, Lucien's grandfather, released a sliver of his aura—one laced with blazing, oppressive intent. The ground cracked subtly beneath his feet. The sky above dimmed as if the heavens themselves dared not challenge his dominance.
Level: 99 – Peak SSS+ Ranker.
The courtyard's ornate stone tiles began to tremble. Several lesser attendants stumbled backward, their faces pale with shock and fear. Even the proud nobles of the Nine Families found themselves instinctively straightening their postures, an unconscious response to the presence of an apex predator.
Lucien watched quietly from his position several paces behind his grandfather. He'd seen glimpses of Dorian's power before, but never this raw display of dominance—calculated yet seemingly effortless. *So this is what it means to reach the pinnacle*, he thought. His analytical mind immediately began cataloging the effects, the radius of influence, the subtle ways Dorian controlled the pressure to affect only those he wished to intimidate.
Vaelthorn's eyes widened. He was still at Level 97, nearing a breakthrough to 98—but that single step now felt like a canyon. Beads of sweat formed on his brow despite his efforts to maintain composure. His crimson ceremonial robes, embroidered with golden thread depicting legendary sword techniques, suddenly seemed garish compared to Dorian's simple but elegant attire.
"Impossible…he broke through the bottleneck...again?" Vaelthorn's thoughts churned. The world called them twin rivals, but in his heart, he had always known: Dorian never went all out in their clashes.
And now, the gap was unbridgeable.
Vaelthorn cleared his throat, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Congratulations appear to be in order, Lord Arkanveil. When did you achieve this... advancement?"
Dorian's expression remained neutral, but his eyes held a quiet fire.
Vaelthorn's voice betrayed his shock. "And you chose not to announce it?"
"Power speaks for itself," Dorian replied simply. "Announcements are unnecessary."
The implication hung heavily in the air—Dorian had reached another level of strength and hadn't even considered it important enough to mention. The ultimate dismissal of their supposed rivalry.
Before things could escalate further, a wave of spatial distortion rolled in. The air rippled like water, forming concentric circles that pulsed with arcane energy. One by one, the heads of the other great families arrived through spatial gates, their expressions growing somber upon sensing the residual aura lingering in the air.
Whispers broke out among their entourages.
"That's… Lord Arkanveil's full aura?"
"Is he preparing for war?"
"No… it's restraint. That's what's terrifying."
Lucien caught Ignis glaring at him from behind his grandfather, pure hatred in those purple eyes. *Not my fault your grandfather's losing the power race*, Lucien thought, allowing a small smirk to form on his lips. Ignis's hand instinctively moved toward his sword hilt before his grandfather sharply cleared his throat, causing the boy to reluctantly stand down.
Thaddeus Stoneward, the mountain lord, was the first to address the tension. "If you two are quite finished with your... greeting ritual, perhaps we might proceed to matters that actually concern the continent's welfare?"
His deep voice held the gravitas of stone, and his massive frame—easily a head taller than even Dorian—moved with surprising grace for a man whose family specialized in defense and earth manipulation.
Just as tensions eased slightly, another gate shimmered open—this one unlike the others. Instead of the standard spatial distortion, this portal gleamed with silvery light, its edges shimmering like starlight. Through it stepped a regal woman with silver hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of moonlight, eyes like starlight, and presence that silenced the room.
Lady Seraphina Valenheart—matriarch of the Valenheart family, Lucien's maternal grandmother.
Even Dorian's expression softened marginally at her arrival. The Valenheart family rarely attended Council gatherings unless matters of extreme importance were at hand.
She offered a curt nod to the gathered heads before giving Lucien a quick glance and a small smirk. Something in that look made Lucien's spine straighten. In his previous life's terminology, his grandmother had major "final boss" energy that never failed to unnerve him.
Dorian shook his head slightly. "Lady Valenheart. Your presence honors us."
"Save the pleasantries, Dorian," she replied, her voice melodic yet authoritative. "The stars whisper of darkness. I couldn't ignore their call."
The council gathering had officially begun.
---
## Inside the Council Hall
The ancient chamber buzzed with magic and politics. Massive crystalline orbs hovered above, recording everything for the archives. Energy patterns swirled across the ceiling—a living map of ley lines that crisscrossed the continent, showing fluctuations in real time. Nine thrones of varying designs stood in a crescent, each crafted to reflect the essence of the family it represented.
Dorian's seat glowed with subtle flames that never consumed the ironwood it was carved from. Vaelthorn's throne gleamed with metallic luster, sword motifs etched into its armrests. Seraphina's seat—rarely occupied—shimmered with an ethereal silver light, small moons orbiting its high back.
Lucien took his designated position behind his grandfather's throne, alongside other family heirs and advisors who stood in attendance. The central floor remained empty save for the Speaker of Records—a neutral position held by a mage specifically trained to present information without bias.
As everyone took their seats, the first topic was introduced by the Speaker, a slender man whose eyes glowed with arcane light as he summoned forth images in the center of the chamber:
"The Disappearance of Panchmukhi Mountain."
A satellite image formed—a massive void, blacker than night, now occupying the once sacred mountain range. The projection showed the surrounding forests and settlements, but where the five-faced mountain should have stood, there was only an absence—not darkness, but a complete void, as if reality itself had been excised.
Gasps echoed through the chamber. The mountain had stood for millennia, its five peaks said to have 5 diffrent faces.
"Three days ago," the Speaker continued, "our monitoring stations detected a surge of unknown energy. When it subsided, this was all that remained." He gestured to the void.
The Speaker waved his hand, and the image zoomed closer. "This void... defies spatial laws. The surrounding mana has become unstable. Three expeditionary teams were sent in. None returned. The few messages we received before losing contact spoke of 'impossible geometry' and 'voices from beyond.'"
Lucien sat quietly, expression unreadable as the council erupted into concerned discussion.
Only Dorian's eyes flickered for a moment, glancing back at his grandson with a subtle questioning look.
He knew. This was where Lucien's fortune began—the mysterious cave where he'd acquired his opportunities, the one he'd secretly explored weeks ago after detecting strange energy readings. The timing couldn't be coincidental.
Lucien gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.
Vaelthorn rose from his seat, his voice cutting through the chamber. "This is clearly the work of eldritch forces. The ancient texts speak of similar occurrences during the Void War era. This isn't merely a disaster—it's an infection that could spread."
His eyes narrowed as he continued, "We must mobilize immediately. Seal the region permanently with barrier artifacts. Quarantine anyone who's been within fifty miles. This is not an opportunity for research—it's an existential threat."
Dorian replied calmly, rising to his feet with practiced grace. "Lord Vaelthorn's caution is understandable, but perhaps premature. Throughout history, phenomena we once feared often became the foundation of our greatest advancements."
He gestured toward the void. "We should investigate methodically. There are secrets older than our kingdoms buried in the earth. Fleeing from them won't save us—understanding them might."
Tension crackled again between the two men.
Thaddeus Stoneward stroked his granite-gray beard. "My family's seismic sensors detected unusual patterns weeks before the mountain vanished. Almost like... a awakening. Something ancient stirring."
Lyra Azureveil leaned forward, her blue robes rippling like water. "The oceans have been restless as well. Tidal patterns shifting unnaturally. As if responding to a call."
"All the more reason to seal it away," Vaelthorn insisted.
Seraphina Valenheart, who had remained silent until now, spoke in a voice that commanded attention. "The moon was blood-red the night before the mountain vanished. My scryers saw visions of doors opening where no doors should be." Her silver eyes swept across the chamber. "This void is not the threat itself—merely a symptom."
The council fell silent at her words. The Valenheart family rarely offered their divinations freely, and when they did, wise rulers listened.
"What would you suggest, Lady Valenheart?" Helena Luminaris asked, her information network already buzzing with partial reports from the affected area.
"Neither abandonment nor hasty exploration," Seraphina answered. "Place watchers. Study from afar first. When the time is right, only the prepared should enter."
Other families debated further, positions aligning largely with traditional alliances. The Knight Bloc supported Vaelthorn's approach of containment. The Mage Bloc favored Dorian's suggestion of careful research.
In the end, the vote leaned toward caution tempered with investigation.
The Void Site would be marked Restricted—accessible only to top council-approved researchers.
---
## After the Meeting
The council adjourned after addressing several other matters of state—agricultural projections for the coming year, reports of increased monster activity along the northern border, and trade disputes between minor nobles.
As council members dispersed across the courtyard toward their waiting spatial gates, Dorian reached out to call Lucien to his side—only for a shadow to streak past.
Lady Seraphina.
She moved with the fluid grace of moonlight on water, appearing beside Lucien before anyone could react. She snatched Lucien by the collar of his formal robes, ignoring his surprise. "You're coming with me, boy. It's time someone trained you properly. Dorian's been coddling you."
Lucien blinked rapidly, caught completely off-guard. "Wait, huh? I didn't even—"
She turned to Dorian, interrupting Lucien's protest. "Your family's pride is strong, but he's got my blood too. Time to forge that fire with moonlight."
Dorian sighed, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I had wondered when you would make your move, Seraphina. I was beginning to think you'd lost interest in your own grandson."
"Lost interest? Hardly," she scoffed. "I've been watching. Waiting for the right moment. That moment is now."
Dorian's expression grew slightly more serious. "His training schedule is already quite demanding. The academy trials approach in two years."
"Which is precisely why he needs what only I can teach him," Seraphina countered. "Your techniques are formidable, but against certain opponents, he'll need more versatility. The moon sees what the flame blinds."
Lucien glanced between his two grandparents, feeling decidedly like a prize being negotiated over. "Am I luggage to be passed around?"
Both elders turned to him simultaneously, their expressions remarkably similar despite their different elements and temperaments.
Seraphina's silvery eyes narrowed. "No. You're a sword. And it's time to sharpen you."
"A sword?" Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," she said firmly. "Your grandfather has forged you in fire. Now I shall temper you . By the time we're done, you'll cut through anything that stands in your way."
Dorian placed a hand on Lucien's shoulder. "Six months," he said to Seraphina. "No more. He needs to continue his flame mastery as well."
"2 years" she countered.
"A year" Dorian replied, his tone making it clear this was his final offer.
"Fine," Seraphina agreed with a dismissive wave. "A year should be enough for the basics. I'll return him for the winter solstice."
Before Lucien could properly protest or even say goodbye, the Valenheart Matriarch stepped into a silver gate that materialized beside them, dragging her protesting grandson with her—to the territory of the Valenheart Family, high in the northern mountains where the moon's influence was strongest.
The last thing Lucien saw before the spatial gate closed was his grandfather's face—and the subtle wink that told him this had been planned all along.
As they traveled through the silver tunnel between spaces, Lucien composed himself. If this was part of some larger design, he would adapt. Every new teacher meant new skills, new knowledge to absorb into his system.
"Grandmother," he said carefully, "may I ask what exactly you'll be teaching me?"
Seraphina's eyes gleamed in the silver light of the spatial passage. "The flame sees only what burns before it. I will teach you to see what lies hidden in darkness. To bend light itself to your will."
She smiled, and for a moment, Lucien saw where his mother had inherited her beauty—and her determination.
"You carry more than just the Arkanveil legacy, child. It's time you embraced the Valenheart within you as well."
The spatial tunnel began to dissipate, revealing a breathtaking vista of mountain peaks bathed in moonlight. In the distance, a palace of white stone and silver spires rose from the mountainside, bridges of crystalline material spanning between towers that seemed to capture and amplify the moon's glow.
"Welcome to Valenheart" Seraphina said, her voice softening slightly. "Your mother grew up here before she chose your father over her birthright."
Lucien took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, feeling a strange resonance within him—something responding to this place, to the moonlight that seemed more tangible here than anywhere he'd ever been.
"Now," Seraphina's voice hardened again as she strode forward, "let's see what you're made of. Your first test begins immediately."
Lucien squared his shoulders and followed. Whatever challenges awaited him here, he would overcome them. Every skill learned, every technique mastered brought him one step closer to his ultimate goal.
Lucien allowed himself a small smile as he followed his grandmother's brisk pace toward the palace. This unexpected detour might prove more valuable than he'd initially thought.