The echo of trumpets still resounded through the valleys as Laurence and Lusian crossed the marble hallway leading to the Ancestral Hall of House Douglas.

  The light filtering through the windows tinted the floor tiles amber, and the air, heavy with incense and ancient dust, seemed to vibrate with a solemnity only the dead could understand.

  At their side, Umber, the black wolf, walked in silence. His dark fur blended with the shadows along the walls, and his amber eyes never left Lusian.Laurence glanced at him; he recognized that look. It was not just the animal's gaze—it was Sofia's mistrust, stalking him through their bond.

  The duke sighed."I would never harm my own son, Sofia…" he murmured, more to the stones than to the air.

  Umber lifted his head, as if he had understood, and the atmosphere grew heavier. Lusian avoided the animal's gaze; the silence among the three was so dense that even the sound of their footsteps seemed sacrilegious.

  They reached the center of the hall.There stood a monument of black stone, older than the kingdom itself: an obelisk covered in runes that pulsed with a faint, almost living light, as if it breathed.The air thickened, and the silence carried an ancient echo.

  Laurence stopped before it and placed his hand on the cold surface.For a moment, the monument's glow seemed to respond to his touch, as if recognizing the blood that called it.

  "It is tradition," he said in a grave voice. "My father brought me here before leaving for his final war… and now it is my turn to do the same with you."

  Lusian nodded without speaking.

  Laurence closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and began:

  "Over time, we grew. And with growth came war. The tribes devoured one another out of pride and fear. Blood watered the earth more than rain. Until, seven hundred and twenty years ago, something changed. The Erkhan summoned the great houses. The Bourlance and the Briggs answered… and from that meeting arose the pact that shaped the kingdom."

  Laurence walked slowly around the obelisk, the runes reflecting off his armor."To us, the Douglases, the darkest role was assigned: to strike, subdue, destroy. We were the shadow forcing others to seek refuge in the light of the Erkhan.The Bourlance would guard the borders, the Briggs would govern with law and coin, and the Erkhan would reign.We… the Dark Ones… would be the unseen guardians.We swore to eliminate any threat to the kingdom, even if it came from them."

  His fingers brushed the symbol carved into the stone: a black hawk with wings spread over an eclipsed sun.

  "As long as our autonomy was respected, we would be part of the kingdom. Thus was born the Duchy of Douglas," he said solemnly. "And for centuries, we have kept our oath…"

  Lusian watched in silence. His father's words carried centuries of weight and blood.("Invisible guardians," "executioners in the shadows"… sounds more like a curse than a duty. A tragic destiny… like every proper villain.) he thought, not daring to break the moment.

  Laurence lowered his head and read aloud the inscription etched into the monument:

  "The Douglases serve no kings or crowns. We serve the balance. We are the shadow that moves when the light grows weak. We are the blade that strikes when the kingdom forgets the price of peace."

  He lifted his gaze to his son."Our duty is to protect… even if it requires destruction."

  His eyes grew intense, almost tragic.

  "If I do not return from this war, you will be the new guardian of the shadow. The Executioner of Carpathia… if the kingdom demands it."

  The words hung in the air like a sealed oath.

  Lusian felt a shiver run down his spine. He was struck by the commitment of this family, the sacrifice they were bound to by duty.He had never considered it; he had always been too busy surviving to notice the weight of the world's reality.Steadily, Lusian nodded, giving his father his answer.

  Laurence looked at him then, a mixture of sorrow and pride in his eyes."Tell me, Lusian… do you hate me?"

  Lusian held his gaze.Inside, he thought only: (Hate you? I cannot hate you… because I am not who you think I am.)But he said nothing. Silence was his only answer.

  "I want to ask a favor of you, son," Laurence continued in a softer voice.

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  "If I can, I will," Lusian replied, emotionless."Take care of Martha."

  Lusian nodded.Laurence knew what that meant. While he marched to war, Martha, his concubine, would be exposed. And if Sofia desired her death, there would be no safe corner for her in the kingdom. Only Lusian, with the bond he shared with his mother, could protect her.

  Laurence stepped back and took one last look at the ancestral monument.The torchlight cast elongated shadows across his face. He knew this could be his last day in the castle, his last glance at his son, his last peaceful breath.

  Hours later, the trumpets echoed from the walls.

  Duke Laurence Douglas departed for war with five thousand soldiers under his command. Elite warriors, men and women who had sworn to protect the kingdom from the shadows.As the gates closed behind him, Lusian remained in silence, watching the procession disappear into the morning dust.

  The Ferrussi Empire stretched beyond the Black Mountains and the eastern plains, a land of absolute order and overwhelming power. From the white marble towers of the Solar Palace, the vastness of its armies could be seen training day and night—a metallic tide shaking the earth.

  The air smelled of iron, sweat, and compressed magic.

  One hundred thousand soldiers marched in perfect formation, moving as a single living creature. The Imperial Legions, divided into twelve main corps, consisted of men and women ranging in level from fifty to sixty—warriors of unwavering discipline, each capable of decimating entire squads of ordinary enemies.

  Among them stood the Crimson Sun Knights, the Emperor's personal guard: three thousand elite warriors, each wearing armor inscribed with arcane runes and wielding lances imbued with solar magic.Beyond them, the Magical Cohorts—over five thousand battle mages—dominated the field with area spells capable of annihilating entire fortifications.

  And above them, as a symbol of imperial might, flew the Crowned Winged Wyverns—draconic beasts carrying riders of level fifty or higher.In total, the Empire could deploy over one hundred and fifty thousand combatants, not counting local militias and contracted mercenaries.A war machine centuries in the making… and now, the eye of the Empire turned toward Carpathia.

  In the Golden Hall, where marble columns supported ceilings adorned with mosaics and liquid gold, Emperor Ardeus Ferrussi Becker studied the continental map. His long, aged fingers traced the southern border: Dara.At his side, standing with a steady gaze, was his seventh daughter, Naira Ferrussi Becker.

  With hair as black as night and steel-gray eyes, Naira radiated hypnotic beauty.Her wind magic seemed to dance around her, gently moving her cloak and hair with each breath.From birth, she had been named heir of the Empire, for she possessed what few in history had: an Epsilon affinity, the gateway to absolute power.

  "It is time, Naira," Ardeus said, his deep voice reverberating through the hall. "You have been trained by the Empire's finest masters. You have studied every treatise on war, mastered every magical art your age permits. But words and honors mean nothing if they are not proven on the battlefield."

  "I understand, Father," she replied calmly, though her heart raced. "You will assign me a front?"

  "More than that." The Emperor smiled, a mixture of pride and contained madness. "I give you absolute authority over the southern campaign. The Fourth, Fifth, and Seventh Legions will be under your command.I need you to achieve your first victory, Naira. The Empire must see you as the heir who will lead a new era."

  Naira nodded."The Kingdom of Carpathia is weak," she said analytically. "Divided, filled with noble houses that devour each other. Breaking their borders will not be difficult if we act with precision."

  Ardeus laughed, his gaze burning like a fanatic's fire."Carpathia is not our ultimate goal, my daughter. No…" He rested a hand on the map, lowering his voice to a whisper. "There is something more valuable there. A young man… Lusian Douglas of Mondring."

  Naira raised an eyebrow."I've heard that name. Epsilon affinity, like mine."

  "Exactly," Ardeus said, excited by the idea. "He was born with perfect, pure affinity. If you bring him before me… if you unite him with our line… the Empire will achieve what my ancestors dreamed of for centuries."

  "A perfect bloodline?" Naira asked, her voice controlled.

  "More than perfect!" exclaimed the Emperor, striking the table. "An Omega affinity, Naira. The pinnacle of human magic! An heir who would combine the supreme wind of your blood with the profound darkness of his.And that child," his voice trembled with excitement, "would be the living god of the Ferrussi Empire."

  Silence fell for a moment.Naira regarded her father serenely, though her eyes betrayed a mix of fascination and fear.

  The Emperor leaned toward her, almost whispering:"Bring him, my daughter. Conquer Dara, defeat the Kingdom, and bring me that man. If you cannot bring him…"

  His voice grew hoarse, obsessive."…then return carrying his child."

  The guards flanking the throne lowered their heads, pretending not to hear.The air vibrated with energy, and the wind around Naira stirred as if in unconscious response.

  "Father…" she said in a whisper. "How far are you willing to go?"

  Ardeus looked at her with a mixture of tenderness and madness."As far as necessary. If I die knowing that in our blood flows an heir of Omega affinity… then my soul can rest. Purity is the destiny of our house, Naira. Do not forget it."

  She lowered her head.The wind in the hall gradually calmed, though Naira's heart burned with inner conflict.She did not know whether to obey her father out of loyalty… or out of fear.

  In the shadowed stacks of the Imperial Archives, a forgotten record hummed quietly—a warning, a secret of Omega bloodlines and the manipulation of magic itself. Centuries of forbidden knowledge waited to be rediscovered.

  In the deepest vault of the Imperial Archives, beneath wards meant to silence even thought, Naira found a sealed folio.

  The wax bore no crest.

  Only a warning:

  "High Circle Access. Unauthorized reading constitutes treason."

  She broke it anyway.

  Her eyes moved quickly.

  "…two stabilized épsilon lines over three generations increase the probability of Omega birth by seventeen percent."

  Seventeen.

  Her breath slowed.

  So it was never myth.

  Further below:

  "If the mother sets the ceiling and the father defines the form… intentional convergence may force expansion."

  Naira closed the file.

  Her father was not dreaming.

  He was following precedent.