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Silence filled the room, along with blank expressions.
Liora stared toward the door, then slowly lowered her gaze to the few drops of blood on the ground.
Near Sebastian were several stains from Kael's outstretched hand, while closer to her, a single drop had formed beneath Arion's gesture.
"Roderic," she said softly.
"Yes, Matriarch," Roderic replied, stepping forward.
Even without being told, he was ready to escort Vek back to his quarters.
But the usually loud and energetic commander stood frozen, gripping his clutches in silence.
From where he stood, the tall commander's expression was clearly visible. While everyone else could only witness his back through the surprising scene, Vek clearly read his expression.
There was a hint of dissatisfaction on his face, along with worry. This contrasted greatly with the stoic but laid-back personality he had heard of.
To him, Arion was an idol—someone he'd looked up to since his younger days. What he had just witnessed stirred a deep ache in his chest, as old memories rushed back uninvited.
When Vek was just starting his training as a teenager, he heard about a genius from the Astrea Kingdom.
That genius was Arion—the man who would later become High Commander.
By the time Vek was ready for his first mission outside the clan, word spread that Arion had been promoted to knight.
Hearing this, Vek's eyes lit up. To become a knight of the Kingdom, one had to be at least a rank 3 aura warrior. At the time, Vek was only rank 2.
Even so, he didn't feel pressured or jealous. He was in complete awe. Arion's pace of advancement lit a fire in him—it drove him forward with real intensity.
Years later, Vek finally reached rank 4. But by then, his idol had already become a Knight Commander and was nearing rank 6.
And yet, at that point, a new light appeared right under Vek's nose. It started off small, barely noticeable. But slowly, steadily, it grew stronger—turning into a star... and then into a blazing sun.
This was none other than Ryker Dawnblade—a youth Vek had been assigned to train.
Ryker was a skinny teenager when he first stood before Vek, ready to officially begin his training. He had no powerful connections, no remarkable strength, no unique backstory.
But Vek would never forget one characteristic: his eyes.
They burned—hotter than any fire—and held a sharpness that seemed able to pierce through anything.
At first, Ryker's progress was slow, even lagging behind the others. But at some poing in time, something began to shift.
His growth rate started to climb. Gradually at first, barely noticeable. But as the months passed, the gap between him and the other trainees began to shrink.
Within just a few years, this junior had reached rank 5—the same level Vek had been at during that time.
A frightening pace.
And even before reaching rank 6, Ryker had already begun studying magic.
Normally, one would focus on reaching the end of a single path—either magic or aura.
However, some choose to study both at the same time. These individuals are called dualists.
To reach demigodhood, after all, one must achieve great accomplishments in both aura and magic.
But don't mistake this for a shortcut. Studying both doesn't bring faster results.
Dedicating yourself fully to one path yields more reward for less effort. That's why the most common approach is to reach the peak of either magic or aura before branching into the other.
Ryker's choice—some might call it arrogance, others might call it confidence.
But no one could call it foolishness. With his rate of progress, it was only a matter of time before he was ready to take on magic.
And sure enough, after years of unrelenting effort, the time came for the birth of a new demigod.
Vek shut his eyes tightly, halting the stream of thoughts.
All those images had flashed through his mind in mere seconds, flooding his head.
"I really have gotten old," he murmured to himself.
Roderic, supporting him from the side, could only look on with a conflicted expression. He opened his mouth a few times, but the words wouldn't come out.
"Time favors no one. But just as the clan has relied on your efforts so far, you can rely on the clan as well," he finally offered, trying to give some comfort.
The two left the room, followed by many of the tired warriors returning from their mission.
Raven, along with a few others, stayed behind.
Liora frowned slightly, contemplating the reason behind the group's sudden exit.
Arion's expression had shifted slightly even before Kael and Sebastian entered the room. It was subtle, but it showed he was on guard—waiting.
Many may not have caught the change, but her sharp senses missed nothing.
Yet the moment Kael walked in, he asked no questions. He didn't even acknowledge his earlier disrespect.
Who was the High Commander? His rank stood just beneath the queen herself.
Across the entire central continent, Arion Rubyhilt was considered the most likely to ascend to demigodhood next.
Even with his naturally kind temperament, anyone in a position of power had an image to uphold.
Kael's words from their first meeting echoed in her mind:
("I was sealed inside.")
The weight of that statement was too heavy to ignore—or forget.
The Dawnblades possessed an inheritance from their clan's founder—an old record. Among other things, it contained a warning.
"In the innermost layer of the forest lies a sealed god.
Be wary of his wrath, for even the remnants of his existence can bring destruction.
What was hidden was never meant to be found.
What was silenced was never meant to be heard.
And yet, the path winds ever inward,
Drawing hands that do not know what they grasp.
When the seal is undone, it will not be mere ruin that follows, nor only death.
The sky shall bear witness, the earth shall recoil,
And what once was lost will demand its place.
The water is a keeper, but not a gate.
The seal is a warning, but not a shield."
The message, though poetic, was clear. And while the record itself was older, the ink was only a little over a century old.
Since the founding of the Dawnblades, only four clan heads had held the title. Liora, though temporarily, had become the fifth.
The reason behind the lyrical nature of their records traced back to the clan's founder.
Vern Dawnblade—a survivor of the Trinity War. Though he died a mortal, he outlived many demigods, finally passing at the age of 203.
During the sesquicentennial war, countless demigods had risen—and even more had fallen.
A human's natural lifespan is around 80 years. No matter one's strength, that fact doesn't change.
Still, there are a few ways to extend it.
The simplest is through life mana. Divine mana operates beyond the constraints of the world's laws.
But life mana isn't meant to rejuvenate—it exists to restore.
Eternal life... how could such a thing truly exist?
Many have chased after eternity, and all have failed.
Life mana can stimulate vitality, yes—but not without limit. In essence, it refines the body to its peak condition.
Returning to one's youth—who wouldn't desire that?
Using temporal mana, many experiments had been conducted. While some achieved the desired effect, the adverse outcomes far outweighed the benefits.
Memory loss, destruction of the mana vessel—even death. The risks were simply too high.
As for other methods, most were unorthodox.
The Matriarch let out a faint sigh, but in the silence of the room, it was clearly heard by all.
She had asked the archivist, Sebastian, about the family's records. He was, of course, aware of their existence—but knew nothing of their contents.
Kael himself had neither confirmed nor denied his identity, there was no mention of his past, and that alone placed an invisible weight on Liora's shoulders.
Even so, his mysterious and eventful appearance, along with his bizzare knowledge-sometimes knowing too little, other times too much-could be easily connected to this point.
She remained suspicious. Aside from the word "seal" appearing in the records, nothing else aligned. There had been no earth-shaking cataclysm. No widespread death.
Kael Alaric.
Upon learning his name, she had immediately sent out orders to gather any information on him.
But after a full day, nothing had turned up.
Information gathering was common, especially among those in power. After all, with information came opportunities, confidence, and other advantages.
This could be the result of a false name—or a lack of information altogether. Therefore, she had no choice but to wait.
After a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, Sebastian spoke.
"Matriarch, shall I delay them for a while?" His words were firm but his expression showed anxiousness.
Liora understood his meaning clearly. They had planned to offer Kael a reward for his help.
His contribution in the battle was no small feat. The fact that not a single life was lost stood as a testament to that.
They had decided to offer several hundred gold, along with artifacts, as a gesture of goodwill, setting aside the fact that he could very well pose a future threat.
The importance of his participation was simply too great to overlook.
And above all else, he could become an invaluable connection.
"JLeave them be. Yselda will be there to send them off," she added coldly. The usually composed matriarch could not contain the surge of emotions within her.
Outside the inner gates, a vehicle had been prepared.
Its front and back were smoothly curved, much like an armored beetle, with the front being noticeably longer. The vehicle had a dull, oxidized copper hue all over, though it was clear that various materials had been used—beneath the colored cover were black and silver components.
At its center stood a tall, booth-like structure enclosed in glass on the front side, with dull-green metal doors opening on either side.
It had four dark gray tires, all of the same size.
The design was neither too extravagant nor too shabby. However, on the front cover, just before the glass, was the Dawnblade insignia, painted only as large as a basket. Though small, the difference in color made it unmistakably obvious.
"Lord Arion, you're leaving already?" Yselda asked, slightly surprised as she saw the group of four approaching her.
Arion met her gaze with his usual mild expression and smiled, wrinkles creasing around his eyes.
"This time I have orders to hurry back. I apologize for the trouble, Elder Yselda," he explained. Yselda had not been in the dining hall, so this was her first time hearing of it.
But she understood clearly that someone of his position had many duties and responsibilities. After all, even his arrival had caused quite a stir among the elders and the matriarch.
Lyssara stepped out of the vehicle after hearing the exchange and gazed toward the group.
Her gaze was cold and piercing, but she quickly bowed in respect.
"Greetings, Lord High Commander, Mage Commanders," she spoke briefly.
Arion and the others remained indifferent, merely sparing her a glance.
"The carriage is ready, please," Yselda gestured toward the vehicle behind her.
Although it was called a carriage, there were no horses or other animals to pull it. It operated on artifacts and mana.
The commanders stepped forward, and Arion had to bend slightly to fit through the door frame. Once inside, however, there was ample space to straighten his back.
Kael, however, took slower steps and stopped just before the door.
He extended his hand, touching his fingers to the green metal.
Unlike before, both his and the High Commander's hands were spotless, without a trace of blood on them.
Since the moment he had come out of the forest with Aurelia, Yselda, and Storm, one thought had consistently occupied Kael's mind.
("How interesting.") Those two words echoed in his mind. There were many things he did not recognize, and many more surprises yet to come.
His gaze quickly traced the entire vehicle, from low to high, then from left to right.
"Is something the matter?" Yselda asked, concern in her voice. She and many others had their suspicions about Kael's lack of general knowledge, so she wasn't surprised by his intrigued expression.
"None at all," he responded softly, placing his hand on the right side of the doorframe to steady himself as he stepped in.
The vehicle had originally been suspended about 15 centimeters from the ground, but now that everyone had entered, it was only about 10.
Once inside, Kael first took note of the seating arrangements.
In the front seats, facing the glass, sat the two mage commanders. In the second row, which resembled a luxurious bench covered in leather, sat Arion, with his sheathed blade standing on the ground next to his right knee.
The carriage was not autonomous and required a driver to steer and control it.
"Take a seat, Sir Kael," Arion spoke politely without moving his crossed arms.
From outside the door, Yselda wished them an enjoyable journey before closing the door.
Sitting on the front left seat, the man placed his arms on the black leather covered steering wheel. Around his hands a faint white glow appeared, as he was injecting small amounts of mana into it.
Without missing a beat, the wheels started rotating slowly before picking up speed.
Thanks to the well-maintained stone roads, the ride was very steady. Of course, once the road changed to gravel or dirt, there would be more shaking.
Yselda and Lyssara watched the carriage roll away at an increasing pace before turning toward the inside of the gates.
The two exchanged a glance amidst the silence.
Yselda's eyes were relaxed, almost sleepy, yet she carried herself with stoicism and a subtle air of superiority.
In contrast, Lyssara's eyes were completely empty, showing not even a trace of emotion.
Yselda turned her head toward the road once more, feeling an unsettling sensation crawl over her.
However the only trace of her mental state changing was a slight movement on her plump glossy lips.
Without saying a word, she turned and started moving toward the gates.
Yselda didn't mind the silence; in fact, she preferred it. Although her status was much higher when compared to Lyssara, she could not get a read on her. This made her extremely uncomfortable.
After only a brief moment, Lyssara followed.
Inside the carriage, a similar quiet atmosphere prevailed.
"How is it, Cain?" Arion asked casually.
Cain, the blue-haired mage, looking outside the glass, turned his head slightly to acknowledge the question.
From the rear seats, his expression wasn't visible, but the red-haired woman next to him could clearly see his smile.
A satisfied grin spanned across his face and his eyebrows showed his excitement.
"It's amazing!" he answered, lifting his arm from the shiny yellow-gray leather-covered steering wheel and placing it on the smooth dashboard.
"Here you go again. Do you like it that much?" The woman in the front seat rolled her crimson eyes.
A chuckle escaped Arion's mouth.
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