Azrael looked up at the man calmly perched atop a floating platform that could, at most, allow him to stand.
"I greet the great elder," he said, bowing slightly.
Alaric nodded, laying his back on the small platform.
His body began to fall, plummeting rapidly toward the ground like a meteorite.
Meters away from the floor, gravity seemed to lose its effect on him. His body tilted, allowing his leg to land on the floor with calm grace.
"Tch! Show off," Azrael said with a wave of his hand, not bothering to hide it.
Alaric smiled calmly. "Isn't it nice for elders to show off?" he asked, approaching with measured steps.
Alaric was tall, reaching eight feet with ease. His hair was crimson, with strands of silver running through it. His crimson eyes were dilated to dot size, making him both frightening and handsome.
Although he was thousands of years old, his face did not show it.
Azrael shook his head. "You could have just jumped down."
Alaric's smile deepened. "I like you," he said calmly.
"You are my grand-uncle. Why wouldn't you?" Azrael furrowed his brows.
"Don't worry. Let's proceed with the assessment," Alaric said.
The platform he had previously been standing on descended in a flash, coming down between them.
'The platform could even descend,' Azrael wondered.
"Stand on this platform and release a bit of essence from your core," Alaric instructed.
Azrael nodded. The so-called essence was the energy that came with awakening the core. It was used to power skills and strengthen the body.
He stepped onto the platform, allowing essence to leak from his body in moderate amounts.
The platform suddenly flickered with pristine white light.
The light died down, replaced by a purple glow that permeated the room.
"So high," Alaric murmured, amusement flashing unrestrained in his eyes.
"Why didn't you warn me about the light? At least provide sunglasses or something," Azrael yelled, jumping off the platform while shielding his eyes.
Alaric shook his head in frustration. 'Why isn't he like the other heirs?' he wondered. 'Even Dante isn't this wild.'
"I have assessed your core grade. It is at the Mythic tier," he said calmly.
Azrael's eyes widened. "So I'm just a tier away from the peak?"
"You can say you are at the peak, since there has been no record of a Celestial Core," Alaric replied. "All that remains is testing your bloodline purity."
As he spoke, a thick needle appeared, floating beside him as he advanced toward Azrael.
Before Azrael could even speak, the needle suddenly shot forward, piercing through his arm.
Unexpectedly, Azrael endured the pain with ease.
It was painful, but compared to what he had endured in his past-life tournament, it was quite normal.
The needle shot out again, its tube filled with blood drawn from Azrael's body.
Alaric received the blood, essence pouring into the tube with gentle, controlled precision.
"You didn't flinch at the needle," Alaric teased. "For someone who would throw a tantrum over bright light, that was surprising."
"I was expecting pain from the needle, but not that amount of light from the platform," Azrael replied casually, his eyes darting around the space.
The room was moderately sized, carrying a serene atmosphere.
A fountain poured silvery water nearby.
Beyond that, there was little else, only white, regal paintings lining the walls.
"Well, you should always prepare for the unexpected. That is a tip most people learn the hard way," Alaric warned.
"Thank you," Azrael said, bowing. What Alaric said was, to some extent, true.
Silence stretched between them. No one spoke for the next few minutes.
Only the soft, melodious click of water rushing from the fountain could be heard.
Alaric suddenly looked up, shocked but composed.
"I must say, considering you did not awaken until your third attempt, I am shocked," Alaric confessed. "Your bloodline purity is at the Primordial tier, the peak.
"The truth is," Azrael said, stepping closer to whisper something into Alaric's ear.
Alaric's eyes widened. "Get the fuck off!" he screamed, flying away from Azrael.
Azrael laughed until his stomach hurt.
The chaos soon died down.
"As per the rules of the clan, you will receive one skill fruit at the same tier as your core, with one each from the following two tiers," Alaric said, flying back toward Azrael.
Without stopping, he walked past him, heading toward the path Azrael had come from.
Without delay, Azrael followed behind. 'Finally, time to choose a skill fruit,' he thought, rubbing his palms together in excitement.
The wall creaked open, revealing a path for both of them.
As they passed through, the shelf behind them shut closed.
Standing diligently beside the shelf was Clara, composed as usual.
"I see you've already been assigned a maid," Alaric commented, sizing Clara up.
"Assigned myself a maid?" Azrael replied, confused.
They strolled through the library together, Clara following behind them.
"When you awaken, a maid is assigned to help with most of your tasks," Alaric explained.
"I didn't know about that," Azrael muttered.
Alaric heard him but did not respond, his mind focused on his destination.
They left the library, which surprised Azrael.
"I thought the fruit was going to be given to me in the library," he said curiously.
"No. That is handled by another great elder. I am only guiding you there," Alaric said, looking down at Azrael.
"Ohh, so you're like an escort or bodyguard?" Azrael said simply.
"Call it what you want," Alaric replied.
Soon, they reached the place, an isolated space in a corner of the hall.
Even before reaching it, maids had already begun thinning out. By the time they arrived, there was nothing in sight.
It was as if the place had been abandoned by the residents of the estate itself.
Alaric walked closer.
On the wall, essence flared, carving an intricate pattern that even Azrael could not grasp, no matter how much he looked at it.
As the last stroke of essence connected, the place shook.
The wall slid upward with a rumble that spread for several meters.
What it revealed was a sharp contrast to the natural state outside.
Lights of various kinds spread throughout the room, each one a phenomenon created by the artifacts that lay in the place.