The Hall of Foreign Envoys did not calm after Azrael's arrival.
It tightened.
Lady Virexia circled him slowly, her boots clicking against obsidian tiles, her tail swaying with deliberate provocation. Demons respected strength—but they trusted nothing that appeared effortless.
"You hide yourself well," she remarked, halting an arm's length away. "Too well."
Azrael tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded.
"And you're very close to testing palace defenses," he replied lazily. "That would be... inconvenient for diplomacy."
A low chuckle escaped her lips.
"Diplomacy?" Her gaze sharpened. "I came to see whether the rumors were mere exaggeration."
She raised one finger.
Demonic qi condensed—not an attack, but a probe. A harmless pressure by demon standards. Enough to make any human noble kneel.
The instant it manifested—
It vanished.
Not dispersed.
Erased.
The space around Azrael rejected it, as if reality itself refused to allow force near him.
The hall fell silent.
Virexia's smile froze.
Her bloodline screamed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"...Dragon," she whispered.
Azrael sighed softly, finally appearing mildly annoyed.
"I didn't give permission," he said. "Try not to forget that again."
The demonic pressure snapped back into her body violently. Virexia staggered one step, her armor creaking, eyes blazing with shock and exhilaration.
Interesting.
Dangerous.
Claimed territory, her instincts warned.
She laughed again—this time with restraint.
"Very well, Third Prince," she conceded, bowing her head slightly. "The Obsidian Dominion acknowledges your... boundaries."
Every envoy present felt it.
A demon had yielded first.
Far away, within the Crimson Sky Dragon Clan, ancient bells rang.
Elders rose from meditation as a draconic projection formed above their ancestral altar—vast, coiled, imperial.
"Imperial Dragon Bloodline Active."
"Hierarchy Override Detected."
The elders exchanged grim looks.
"This shouldn't be possible," one muttered. "The imperial line weakened generations ago."
Another clenched his jaw.
"...Unless someone awakened it."
A name surfaced unspoken.
The Eternal Nocturne Empire.
The Third Prince.
Back in the palace corridors, Seraphina walked too fast.
She told herself she was simply leaving.
She told herself she didn't care.
Then she spotted Azrael exiting the hall—Lady Virexia walking beside him, speaking softly, smiling like she belonged there.
Something snapped.
"Azrael," Seraphina called sharply.
Both of them stopped.
Azrael turned calmly.
"Yes?"
Her breath caught.
She hadn't planned what to say.
She only knew she disliked how the demon gazed at him.
"I... the Empress is looking for you," she improvised, grasping at excuse.
Virexia's gaze flicked between them, amused.
"Oh?" she purred. "Am I interrupting something... personal?"
Azrael answered without hesitation.
"Yes."
The word landed heavily.
Virexia raised a brow.
Seraphina felt heat rush to her face.
Azrael stepped closer to Seraphina—just enough.
Not touching.
But unmistakably choosing position.
"I'll see you later," he said to Virexia, voice even. "Behave while you're my guest."
Virexia smiled slowly.
"I look forward to it," she replied. "My Prince."
She turned and departed, tail swaying.
Seraphina stared after her, chest tight.
"...You didn't deny it," she said quietly.
Azrael glanced down at her.
"Deny what?"
"That she—" She stopped, jaw tightening. "Never mind."
He watched her for a moment, then spoke calmly.
"You're not replaceable," he said. "But you are impatient."
Her heart stumbled.
"That's not—"
Azrael leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"I don't share what's mine."
Her breath hitched.
The dragon beneath his calm stirred—possessive, absolute.
Seraphina looked away first.
That night, Heaven recorded another anomaly.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Fate Deviation Update
Demon Princess: Interest Shifted
Imperial Dragon Authority: Recognized
Chosen Son: Influence Declining
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The system hesitated before finalizing the entry.
Then complied.
In the rain-soaked valley, Jin Yao screamed as another connection burned away.
He fell forward, hands clawing mud.
"I was chosen...!" he roared.
The sky offered no answer.
Because the world had already begun choosing someone else.
Azrael stood alone on a balcony later that night, watching distant lightning flicker beyond the horizon.
Demons.
Dragons.
Heaven.
All circling.
A lazy smile touched his lips.
"Good," he murmured. "Come closer."
The hunt was becoming interesting.
The night did not belong to silence.
It belonged to anticipation.
Within the guest wing of the palace, Lady Virexia stood before a wide window overlooking the capital, scarlet armor removed, replaced by flowing black silk that clung to her form like smoke. The city lights below reflected in her golden eyes as she smiled faintly.
"So this is the heart of the anomaly," she murmured.
Behind her, demonic shadows shifted uneasily.
A knock sounded.
Once.
Controlled.
She remained still.
"Enter."
The door opened without a sound.
Azrael stepped inside.
The shadows recoiled instantly, flattening against the walls like frightened beasts.
Virexia finally faced him, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"You don't knock like a guest," she observed.
Azrael shrugged lightly. "Your guards wouldn't have stopped me. I spared them embarrassment."
She laughed softly.
"Straight to the point then." Her gaze sharpened. "The Obsidian Dominion wishes to ally with you. Not through treaties."
She stepped closer.
"Through me."
The air stilled.
Not tense.
Expectant.
Azrael studied her for a moment, expression unreadable.
"You're offering yourself as leverage," he said calmly. "That's either confidence or desperation."
"Both," she replied without hesitation. "You're changing the hierarchy. Demons survive by choosing the right storm to ride."
She leaned in, voice low.
"And I refuse to be caught beneath it."
Azrael smiled faintly.
"Smart."
She searched his face. "Is that a yes?"
He stepped past her, gaze drifting back to the window.
"No," he said lazily. "That's me acknowledging your instincts."
Virexia froze.
Then—unexpectedly—she smiled wider.
"Good," she said. "I don't want an easy bond."
Behind them, unseen by both, a faint draconic sigil burned briefly in the air—then vanished.
At the same time, a Crimson Sky Dragon Clan envoy arrived at the capital gates.
The guards nearly collapsed from the pressure alone.
The envoy was an elderly man with crimson scales tracing his temples, eyes glowing with ancient authority.
"I am here," he announced calmly, "to confirm a bloodline."
The gates opened immediately.
Seraphina stood with Aelthyria in the inner gardens, tension thick between them.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Aelthyria said quietly.
Seraphina didn't answer at first.
Then, reluctantly: "...Yes."
Something was approaching.
Not danger.
Judgment.
Within the ancestral hall, Azrael faced the dragon envoy alone.
The old dragon studied him carefully.
Then, without warning—
He bowed.
Low.
Deep.
Unquestionable.
"The Imperial Dragon recognizes its sovereign," the envoy said.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Across the cultivation world, dragon bloodlines stirred restlessly.
Azrael exhaled slowly.
"So it's official now," he murmured.
The envoy nodded. "The clans will not oppose you."
A pause.
"...But Heaven will."
Azrael's eyes glinted.
"Let it try."
Far away, Jin Yao collapsed as his final major fate thread flickered violently.
He screamed until his voice broke.
But the world had already moved on.
That night, Azrael returned to his chambers.
Seraphina was waiting.
She looked at him—really looked—and felt something settle deep in her chest.
"...You're not weak at all," she said quietly.
Azrael met her gaze.
"I never was."
She swallowed.
And stayed.