"I apologize that our first eting ended like this."
The Endo Clan Head—Ken—bowed slightly, voice steady despite the tension coiling in the air. He turned, signaling his family to follow, and made his exit—sky-blue robes trailing like fading mist.
Alia, however, lingered for a heartbeat longer.
Why? Why was he so indifferent?
That gaze—calm, detached—irritated her more than open hostility ever could. It stripped her declaration of its sting, leaving only emptiness. She frowned sharply, then turned away—following her family out without another word, heels clicking against marble.
Dax turned back to the crowd, his expression suddenly bright—warm, disarming, as if the confrontation had been a re ripple on still water.
"My apologies for the inconvenience. Please, continue enjoying yourselves."
His tone was light. Unbothered. Effortless.
"How cold… is this really the sa timid Dax?" Whispers spread through the hall like smoke from dying embers. Many of the clansn had never even heard him speak before—his voice now carrying a quiet authority that unsettled them.
But the elders felt it deeper.
Sothing had changed.
A beautiful black-haired woman reclined gracefully in her seat—elegant robes fluttering softly as she lifted a silver dragon-shaped pipe to her crimson lips, inhaling deeply.
"A shift," she murmured, lips curving into a srizing smile—dangerous, intrigued.
She was the Third Elder, Rita Godfall—infamous as the Mad One, a Rank 8 Aura Master and peerless sword wielder whose blade had tasted the blood of powerful creatures.
Nearby, a burly bald man rolled a demonic bead between thick fingers, counting softly under his breath. He was the Fifth Elder—Gentle Demon—his massive fra belying a mind sharper than any edge.
The mont his gaze landed on Dax, his expression tightened—bead pausing mid-roll.
Behind the boy stood sothing… wrong.
An oppressive silhouette—vague, distorted, blasphemous. It pulsed like a shadow cast by no light.
Is that truly Omin's son?
He rembered clearly: this child's talent had been stolen at birth—a waste, pitied and overlooked.
The ominous presence slowly turned its head—eting his gaze directly.
Gentle Demon's fingers clenched—the bead cracking faintly.
Dax returned to stand beside his grandfather's throne—posture relaxed, eyes scanning the room.
With a snap of his fingers, the Ancestor drew everyone's attention—sound ceasing as if commanded.
"I will leave this matter to the younger generation."
His voice was calm. Final.
"Tonight is not only a celebration of life… but also the inauguration of a new Wyvern Squad Captain."
The hall erupted—gasps, shouts, disbelief crashing like waves.
The Wyvern Squad seat was equal in authority to an elder—a position of raw power, guarding the clan's most sacred assets.
A man clad in obsidian armor appeared instantly—kneeling with disciplined precision.
"I greet the Ancestor."
He was Zain Godfall—current Wyvern Captain, strongest of the younger generation, body forged in battles against beasts and n.
"I will allow you to keep your seat," the Ancestor said evenly. "Only if you defeat my candidate."
Dax smiled inwardly—hearing his grandfather push it through.
I will show them just a bit.
Zain accepted without hesitation—rising with a sharp nod.
"What is your na?" the Ancestor asked.
"Zain Godfall. Fourth generation."
"Hm. You are capable," the old man said calmly.
"But my decision stands."
He snapped his fingers.
In a flash, gray energy wrapped around both combatants—tendrils coiling like living smoke.
Dax observed it carefully—Origin Eyes dissecting the flow.
Interesting…
He reached out ntally—
"Master."
Inerous's sharp voice stopped him.
Tch! Dax showed dissatisfaction, focus snapping back.
Before them ford a burning gray pentagram—inscriptions rotating endlessly, humming with arcane power.
So this is the magic of this world.
They vanished.
Instant teleportation.
Dax appeared on a massive ring encircled by jagged cliffs—winds howling, the air thick with the musk of beasts.
"Welco to the Wyvern Nest," the Ancestor's voice echoed—omnipresent, booming. "The rules are simple. Battle. The victor becos Captain."
The sky roared.
Ten wyverns descended—one vastly larger than the others, scales gleaming like forged obsidian, eyes burning with feral intelligence.
Dax activated his Origin Eyes fully.
Blood vessels. Veins. Arteries.
At the core of each creature burned a fla—all possessing different colors, marking out the existence of their souls.
"Killing is forbidden," the Ancestor added—voice carrying a subtle warning.
"Ancestor, this is madness!" the Seventh Elder protested—voice rising in outrage. "He's a mortal!"
The Ninth Elder joined in coldly. "A mortal with no mana core or aura core is a liability."
Several elders nodded—discontent rippling through the platform.
"Henry," the Ancestor replied calmly, "you've always been blunt."
"I advise you watch."
He poked into the air—his hand piercing reality, causing a ripple in space.
Gently, a veil appeared—displaying the Wyvern Nest live across the hall, crystal-clear projection shimring.
"Big sister!" Sapphire tugged excitedly at a young woman's sleeve. "Uncle Chocolate is fighting!"
Susan's gaze never wavered from the projection.
Nothing about this was normal.
A violent gust slamd toward Dax—Zain's opening strike, aura flaring like a storm cloud.
"We're here to fight, not sightsee," Zain snapped—voice laced with barely contained fury.
"I sense malice in your voice," Dax replied calmly. "Unfairness bothers you."
"To , fairness doesn't exist." Dax's tone turned cold—eyes narrowing.
"I am Rank 7. You are mortal—what do you think you can do to ?" Zain fud, mana coiling around his fists.
"Then let our fists speak."
Dax regulated his strength carefully.
In an instant, the pressure shifted—air thickening, gravity warping.
Zain staggered back—eyes widening.
"My heart… trembles?"
Dax compressed his realm.
Fourth Realm—Trait General.
"This will do, though my goal was to go lower." Dax squeezed his fist—muscles rippling subtly.
Zain clenched his fists—lightning crackling along his arms.
"Let see if that mouth of yours will save you!"
He vanished—blurring into a thunderous charge.
Dax countered.
Boom!
The ground shattered—cracks spidering outward.
Zain recoiled—his arm vibrating violently, numbness spreading.
"How…?"
But Dax was already moving.
Like a blur, Dax appeared above—punching downward with surgical force.
"I suggest you get serious," Dax said dangerously calm, sending rubble flying in explosive arcs. "You might die."
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