Max felt the weight of their gazes—Aelric, Alia, Revenna, and Jack—all waiting for an explanation.
For the truth.
But he only shrugged.
"Honestly, I don't know either."
It was the truth—at least partially.
His "betrayal" had been declared for him, not by him.
He never chose to turn against the Phoenix Order Guild.
Yet, here he was—labeled as a traitor.
Aelric studied him for a mont, then patted his shoulder lightly.
"Well, don't think too much about it."
His voice carried genuine warmth.
"Whatever happened, you're my friend, and you're always welco here."
Max t his gaze.
There was no doubt, no hesitation in Aelric's words.
A small smile touched Max's lips.
"Thanks."
Just as the conversation settled, a new wave of whispers spread through the Grand Chamber.
It started as a ripple, quiet murmurs spreading like wildfire—
Then, it exploded into hushed awe.
"Look, the top five guilds, the four super families… they're all arriving together."
"They're being led by the King himself."
Max's eyes shifted toward the entrance.
And what he saw—
Was power.
The large golden doors of the Grand Chamber opened wide, revealing a procession of powerful figures.
Groups of n and won, so Max recognized, so he didn't.
They moved with absolute authority, each step exuding confidence.
And at the very front of them—
Was a man who stole the presence of the entire room.
A middle-aged man, his golden hair flowing past his shoulders like a lion's mane, led the entire procession.
His aura was overwhelming—an invisible force of dominance radiating from him.
Just standing there, he felt like the sun itself—a force of unshakable power.
Magnar Dragomir.
The King of the West.
The man who had single-handedly united the entire Western Region under his command.
He ruled not just with strength, but with absolute authority.
And now—
He had arrived.
As Magnar Dragomir strode into the Grand Chamber, Max felt sothing stir deep within him.
It wasn't just the overwhelming aura of the man—
No, it was sothing else.
Sothing familiar.
Sothing ancient.
And then it hit him—
A bloodline pressure.
It was faint, barely noticeable, and yet—Max recognized it imdiately.
'This is… so kind of Dragon Bloodline.'
His thoughts sharpened, his gaze subtly locking onto the King.
It made sense.
A ruler as powerful as Magnar Dragomir—soone who united an entire region—
Would have a bloodline beyond normal humans.
'So, the Royal Family of the West possesses a Royal Dragon Bloodline…?'
It was a logical conclusion.
But then—Max's gaze shifted.
He turned to Aelric, studying him closely.
And the more he thought about it—
The more sothing felt off.
Aelric was the Crown Prince.
The direct son of the King of the West.
Which ant—he should have the sa bloodline.
And yet—
Max had never sensed even a trace of it from him.
No dragonic pressure.
No hidden aura.
Nothing.
'That's strange.'
Max's mind worked quickly, piecing together possibilities.
There was only one logical explanation—
'Maybe… his bloodline is like Alice's.
Dormant.
Unawakened.'
It was the only thing that made sense.
And if that was true, then—
'There's more to Aelric than ets the eye.'
Max glanced at him again, curiosity burning in his chest.
Because if Aelric's bloodline truly hadn't awakened yet…
Then when it finally did—
What kind of power would he unlock?
As Max stood there, contemplating Aelric's mysterious bloodline, a sudden chill crawled up his spine.
A presence.
A sharp, unmistakable killing intent locked onto him—
Cold. Calculated. Focused solely on him.
His instincts flared, his body automatically tensing as his senses expanded.
'Who…?'
His first thought—
Aurelia.
She was the one who had tried to kill him before.
But when his gaze swept across the Grand Chamber, searching for her figure…
He didn't find her.
Instead—
His eyes landed on a group of figures standing in the shadows, near the corner of the hall.
A group of black-robed individuals stood silently, watching the gathering from a distance.
Their attire—dark, heavy cloaks with hoods covering their faces—
Was eerily similar to the Black Lotus Guild.
But Max knew imdiately.
They weren't from Black Lotus.
They were from the Monarch.
The assassins. The shadows.
The ones who had hunted him relentlessly.
And now—they were here.
Max narrowed his eyes.
'They were also invited?'
At first, it shocked him.
Why would the West invite a power like the Monarch?
But after thinking about it, it made sense.
'They are currently the strongest power on the continent.'
Even if they were ruthless—even if they were feared and despised—
Their power was undeniable.
And in a gathering like this, where all the major forces had assembled—
The Monarch's presence ant only one thing.
They weren't here just as guests.
They were here to remind everyone who truly ruled from the shadows.
And judging by the killing intent locked onto him—
They had noticed him too.
Just as the tension thickened, an explosive laugh shattered the weight in the air.
"Hahaha! Magnar, how have you been?"
The voice was bold, unrestrained, carrying an undeniable air of confidence.
Max's gaze snapped toward the entrance, his curiosity piqued—
And then, a knowing smile spread across his face.
He recognized them instantly.
A group of new arrivals strode into the Grand Chamber, their movents unhurried, yet commanding absolute attention.
At the very front stood a tall, rugged man—his hair a mix of dark and deep red, his sharp red eyes carrying a depth of wisdom and battle-hardened experience.
Envoy Lucas.
Behind him were several individuals, each exuding a powerful aura, dressed in distinctive uniforms not belonging to any faction in Valora Continent.
They were from the Lost Continent.
A force unlike any other.
And seeing them—
King Magnar's face imdiately brightened.
"Lucas, I was just waiting for you!"
His deep laughter rumbled as he strode forward, arms open—
The two n embraced like old friends, slapping each other's backs with camaraderie.
Max observed them closely, a light frown forming on his face.
He had known about Envoy Lucas for a long ti.
But he never realized—
The Envoy and the King of the West were this close.
'This isn't just a casual eting.'
Their familiarity wasn't sothing built in a day.
Then it clicked.
Every three years, an Envoy from the Lost Continent visited Valora.
Their primary purpose?
To oversee the transfer of Valora's top geniuses—guiding them toward greater opportunities beyond this continent to the Lost Continent.
While different Envoys had taken on this role over the past century—
Lucas had remained a permanent one for Valora Continent for the past few decades.
aning, he had spent decades returning to this land—
And every single ti, he always arrived around the sa period.
King Magnar's birthday.
It wasn't just coincidence.
It was tradition.
A natural bond ford through years of shared etings, diplomacy, and mutual respect.
'Of course, they'd know each other well.'
This ant sothing else—
If Lucas and Magnar were this close… then the Lost Continent had more influence in the West than anyone realized.
Just then—
"Let's celebrate today!"
King Magnar's deep, booming laughter echoed through the chamber, his powerful voice commanding attention.
"Everyone, on the occasion of my 53rd birthday, let's eat and drink to our hearts' content!"
The mont those words left his lips—
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