Chapter 475: Father
The dim glow of the lantern flickered softly, casting shifting shadows against the polished walls of the Duke's private chambers. The night was silent, save for the distant crash of waves against the fleet's hull. The rhythmic sound should have been grounding—familiar—but tonight, it did little to settle his thoughts.
Thaddeus sat at his desk, fingers steepled, golden eyes focused on nothing in particular. His mind, however, was far from still.
Everything felt strange. Unfamiliar, despite the fact that the situation should have been a relief.
His daughter, Aeliana, was here.
Alive.
Safe.
But that was not what unsettled him.
It was the way she had returned.
Stronger than ever.
The physicians had confirmed it—her body was no longer frail. The sickness that had plagued her since childhood, the very thing that had dictated the course of her life, was gone.
And not only gone—it had been replaced with something greater.
Aeliana was standing taller, her presence sharper, her movements unburdened by the fragility that once held her down.
It was unnatural.
Not impossible.
But unnatural.
His fingers tapped lightly against the wooden desk, a slow, thoughtful rhythm.
And then there was that boy.
Luca.
No. That was not his real name.
Whoever he was, whatever his true identity, Thaddeus did not trust him.
When he had first met him, there had been no certainty—no confirmation that he was truly the one who had saved Aeliana. The only proof had been Aeliana's own words.
That should have been enough.
But still, something in Thaddeus had refused to accept it entirely.
It had been suspicion at first. Doubt. A simple, cautious instinct honed over years of war and deception.
But then he learned about Aeliana's cure.
And suddenly, it was not just caution anymore.
It was urgency.
He needed to know more.
The Eternal Skyroot Herb. The change in her mana core. The impossible way her body had not just survived the process but thrived in it.
And somehow, Lucavion was at the center of it all.
His golden eyes narrowed.
This young man was reckless. Insolent. Unpredictable. A charlatan with the mouth of a rogue and the presence of a survivor.
Yet, despite his personality, despite his audacity, he was strong.
Too strong.
A five-star cultivator at his age was already exceptional. But Lucavion's energy was off. It carried something beneath the surface, something unsettlingly familiar.
Something that reminded Thaddeus of a past he had long left behind.
His jaw tightened slightly.
And yet, even with everything he had seen—everything he had sensed—Lucavion was not what troubled him most.
It was Aeliana.
His daughter had changed.
Not just physically. Not just in strength.
In spirit.
She did not look at him the same way anymore.
There had always been defiance in her, always a quiet fire beneath her carefully measured words. Even in her illness, she had held on.
But now, that fire was something different.
It was no longer just resistance.
It was independence.
She no longer sought his approval. No longer looked to him as the immovable force that dictated her life.
And that—
That was the part he did not know how to deal with.
His fingers curled slightly against the desk, his thoughts circling back to the moment he had examined her mana core.
It had been unmistakable.
She had followed his technique.
And she had mastered it.
The impossible strength of her mana reserves, the seamless flow of energy within her—it all pointed to something far beyond natural progression.
And yet, he had felt it the moment he stepped into the abyss.
That pulse. That connection.
He had thought it was instinct. The desperation of a father searching for his daughter.
But it had not been.
It had been real.
Aeliana was the one he had sensed.
And now, sitting alone in his chambers, facing nothing but the quiet hum of the sea outside, he could no longer ignore the question pressing against the back of his mind.
What exactly had she become?
That was why he needed to know everything.
There were too many unanswered questions, too many strange occurrences that could not be brushed aside. Thaddeus had spent his entire life cutting through uncertainty, never allowing the unknown to dictate his decisions. And now, more than ever, he needed clarity.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the side of the room.
There, hanging on the wall in the soft lantern light, was a portrait.
A woman.
Young. Beautiful. Her features delicate yet striking, her presence immortalized in oil and canvas.
Her hair, pitch black, cascaded down her shoulders like flowing silk, the deep hues of midnight captured with near-perfect realism. Her eyes, a shade of amber so similar to Aeliana's, held a quiet warmth within them, though they carried an undeniable sharpness—a fire that had never faded, not even in the years they spent together.
Rianna Ravensdale.
Aeliana's mother.
Thaddeus' breath was slow, steady, yet something inside him tightened.
It had been nearly ten years since she left this world.
A decade.
And yet, looking at her now, frozen in time, it didn't feel so distant.
She had been a woman of unwavering strength, both in spirit and in will. The kind of person who never let fate dictate her choices, who refused to bow to the expectations placed upon her.
She had loved fiercely.
Lived freely.
And just like their daughter, she had always met him head-on.
His fingers brushed against the edge of his desk, his thoughts pulling him backward—to years that felt like a lifetime ago, to memories that still lingered despite how much time had passed.
He could still hear her voice sometimes. Could still remember the way she would challenge him, never backing down, never bending under the weight of his presence.
"You don't always have to be so rigid, Anthony."
She had told him that once. More than once.
He had never quite learned how to listen.
A knock at the door.
"Enter."
The door creaked open, the soft flicker of lantern light stretching across the floor as a figure stepped inside.
She moved with slow, deliberate grace—neither rushed nor hesitant. The weight of her presence filled the chamber before she had even spoken.
And when Thaddeus lifted his gaze—
His breath caught.
For a moment, just a moment, he saw her.
The dress was simple, yet elegant. Flowing midnight silk, embroidered subtly at the edges with golden thread. It draped effortlessly over her frame, accentuating a figure that had once been frail, once been too delicate to bear such formality. Now, she stood tall, unburdened, the soft candlelight casting shadows along the curve of her cheekbones, the sharp edge of her jawline.
Her hair, dark as ink, cascaded down her back in silken waves, untamed yet regal.
And then, there were her eyes.
Amber. Deep. Alive.
Aeliana had always resembled her mother. Even as a child, before the sickness had stolen her vitality, before the years of weakness had dulled the fire in her gaze—she had been a reflection of Rianna.
And now—
Now, she looked exactly as she had back then.
A living, breathing echo of the woman he had lost.
His fingers tightened against the desk.
This is not the time for sentiment.
Aeliana's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile—the expression too sharp, too edged to be anything but deliberate.
"Father," she greeted at last, voice cool, clipped.
The silence between them thickened.
Thaddeus exhaled slowly, straightening in his chair, pushing the past aside in favor of the present. His golden gaze swept over her, assessing—not just her appearance, but her stance, the sharpness in her posture, the way her chin tilted ever so slightly upward.
Defiance.
Independence.
She no longer carried the weariness of someone burdened by her own body. She no longer looked like someone who had spent years trapped in a gilded cage.
She had changed.
And she wanted him to see it.
"You called me."
She really looked like her mother.
Chapter 476: Father (2)
"You called me."
Aeliana met his gaze, her amber eyes unwavering, unflinching. She did not bow her head, did not look away. If anything, she was waiting—measuring him as much as he had measured her.
Thaddeus held that gaze for a long moment before he gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Indeed, I have called you here."
Aeliana let out a quiet exhale, her lips parting—not in relief, not in acknowledgment, but in something far sharper.
"Ah," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "So now that I'm cured, you can finally bear to see my face?"
The words weren't loud. They weren't even biting. But the weight behind them—the challenge laced within each syllable—landed with precision.
Thaddeus did not react. His expression remained as composed as ever, his fingers still resting against the polished surface of his desk. He had expected hostility. Resentment.
She had always hated being locked away.
But he was not the one who had refused this meeting.
His golden eyes met hers, steady.
"It was not I who refused to bring you here," he reminded her, his voice even, absolute. "It was you who refused to step out."
A sharp breath. A flicker of something behind her gaze—something almost like offense—before she let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.
"Oh," she mused, lifting her chin. "So I was the one who was scared?"
The question was barbed, laced with accusation, meant to provoke.
Thaddeus saw it immediately.
She wanted a fight.
Not a conversation.
Not an understanding.
A fight.
And he…
He would not give it to her.
'Sigh…..This girl…'
Not this time.
His fingers curled slightly against the desk, then relaxed. He inhaled, slow, controlled, before shifting back in his chair.
"If that is how you wish to see it," he said simply.
The words were calm, but the meaning behind them was clear.
Aeliana's lips parted slightly, as if she had expected more—wanted more. She had come armed for a battle of words, had prepared her blade to cut as deeply as possible, only to find that he had refused to draw his own.
Aeliana opened her mouth.
Then—she hesitated.
For just a fraction of a second, just long enough for uncertainty to flicker across her face before she caught herself. Her jaw tightened, and without another word, she closed her mouth again, forcing her expression back into something cool. Composed.
She exhaled through her nose, shifting her weight slightly as she crossed her arms.
"If that's all, then get to the point," she said, her tone clipped, as if she had already decided she wouldn't care for whatever he was about to say.
Thaddeus watched her.
Carefully.
Not with the sharp, assessing gaze he often wore on the battlefield, nor with the cold calculation he reserved for those who stood before him as adversaries.
No, this was different.
This was the gaze of a man looking at something he should understand. Something familiar, yet foreign.
Aeliana had always been strong-willed. Always been sharp. But this? This version of her—standing tall, standing against him rather than simply bracing herself in his presence—was something entirely new.
And he wasn't sure what to make of it.
Still, he did not delay.
"You are aware of the changes in your body," he said at last.
Not a question.
A statement.
Aeliana's amber eyes flickered slightly, but she did not look away.
"You mean the part where I'm no longer dying?" she asked dryly.
Thaddeus did not react to the sarcasm.
"You did not simply recover," he continued. "Your mana core has not only stabilized—it has strengthened. Grown beyond what should have been possible."
Aeliana inhaled slowly, but her face remained unreadable.
"The method by which this occurred remains unverified," Thaddeus went on, his voice calm, steady, absolute. "And that is unacceptable."
A beat of silence.
Aeliana's lips pressed together, her fingers twitching against the fabric of her sleeve.
"Unacceptable," she echoed, voice quieter now, yet still carrying the weight of something unspoken.
Thaddeus nodded once.
"You understand why this must be examined further."
Another pause.
Then—
Aeliana's eyes narrowed.
Aeliana's arms remained crossed, her amber gaze locked onto him. There was no hesitation in her stance, no faltering in her voice as she spoke.
"Do you wish to know because the same illness might occur once again," she asked, her tone steady, sharp, "or do you wish to control me once again?"
Thaddeus exhaled slowly.
"I have never intended to control you."
Aeliana let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. "No? Then what was it?"
"Whatever I did, it was for your sake," he stated, his voice calm—unshaken.
Aeliana's expression did not shift. She did not laugh this time. Instead, she held his gaze, the silence between them stretching like a blade waiting to be drawn.
"For my sake?" she repeated, voice quieter now, but no less cutting.
Her fingers twitched against her sleeve before she stepped forward, not breaking eye contact.
"Was it for my sake," she began, "to engage me to someone I had never met? Someone who only saw me as a name on a contract?"
Thaddeus remained silent.
"Was it for my sake," she continued, her voice hardening, "when you locked me away like I was some fragile artifact that would shatter at the slightest touch?"
The words landed—sharp, precise.
"Was it for my sake," she pressed on, "when you refused to listen? When every time I spoke, you dismissed my words because you believed you knew better?"
She inhaled sharply, her hands clenching at her sides.
"Tell me, Father," she said, voice laced with bitter challenge. "Was it really all for me?"
Thaddeus said nothing for a long moment.
Because the truth was not simple.
Because she was not entirely wrong.
Not everything had been for her.
Not every decision, every action, every calculated move had been for her alone.
There had been the family name to consider. The reputation of the Thaddeus Duchy. The necessity of ensuring that his only daughter—his only heir—would be protected, secured, and placed where she would never be touched by the harshness of the world.
Not all of it had been selfless.
And yet—
She was wrong, too.
Because if she truly believed he had not thought of her, she did not know how deeply she had burrowed into his thoughts.
Every day.
Nearly every hour.
For years, he had woken with her name lingering in his mind. Every time he received reports from physicians, every time he found a lead—no matter how desperate—on a possible cure, every time he returned to an empty estate and felt the silence where she should have been.
She had never left his thoughts.
But he would not say this.
It was pointless.
His feelings, his regrets, his explanations—none of them would reach her. Not now.
So instead, he simply exhaled.
His golden eyes met hers, steady, unreadable.
"I will not argue with you," he said.
Aeliana scoffed. "Of course not."
His expression did not change. "Because it would accomplish nothing."
Aeliana's lips pressed into a thin line.
She had expected denial.
Expected justification.
She had not expected restraint.
That unsettled her more than anything else.
Thaddeus straightened slightly, his presence shifting—not as a father caught in the weight of old wounds, but as a Duke who had no patience for meaningless battles.
"I called here to ask you what happened there."
Chapter 477: Father (3)
The weight in the room shifted.
Aeliana could feel it—the way her father's presence, cold and steady as ever, sharpened with unspoken intent. He had let the argument pass, let her words sink in without retaliation, but now?
Now, he wanted answers.
"You will tell me what happened," Thaddeus said at last, his voice calm, unwavering. "From the beginning."
Aeliana exhaled slowly, crossing her arms tighter, bracing herself.
"Be specific," he continued. "What happened when you left for the expedition? What happened when the Kraken appeared? What happened when you were swallowed by the Vortex?"
His golden eyes did not waver.
"And what happened with that man—Luca?"
Aeliana's fingers twitched at her sides.
She had expected this. Knew that eventually, she would have to explain exactly what had occurred beneath the sea.
But still, hearing him ask so directly, so utterly focused on uncovering the truth, left her feeling strange.
********
Aeliana held her father's gaze, her pulse steady despite the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface.
This moment had always been inevitable.
Duke Anthony Thaddeus did not ask meaningless questions, nor did he allow evasions. He wanted answers, and he would get them.
She inhaled slowly, measured, before speaking.
"What happened at that time…"
"That is right." His voice remained firm, expectant. "I want to know everything."
Aeliana studied him for a moment longer. The way his golden eyes, so much like her own, reflected nothing but quiet demand. Not impatience, not anger—just an unyielding need for truth.
She wasn't against revealing it.
She had never planned to keep it hidden.
But saying it out loud, recounting everything as it had happened, meant reliving it.
Still, she straightened, tilting her chin slightly, and began.
"It all started on the second day."
Her voice was clear, unwavering.
"The first day passed without incident. The waters were calm, and we proceeded as planned. There were no signs of anything unusual—no disturbances in the current, no warnings in the wind. If anything, the voyage felt… normal."
Her father gave a slow nod, indicating for her to continue.
"But then, on the second day—everything changed."
Aeliana could still feel it, the sudden shift in the air, the eerie stillness before the storm had descended.
"The storm came without warning. No time to prepare, no time to change course. The waves rose like walls around us, and before we could even begin to react, we saw it."
Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her dress.
"The Kraken."
The very name sent a phantom shiver down her spine, though she refused to let it show.
"It came from the depths," she continued. "It was massive—larger than any creature I had ever seen, with tentacles that could crush entire ships like they were made of paper. It didn't just attack—it tore through us, systematically, as if it knew exactly what it was doing."
She could still hear the screams, the splintering of wood, the deafening roar of the ocean swallowing everything whole.
The chamber was silent, save for the low crackle of the lanterns burning along the walls. The weight of Aeliana's words hung in the air, thick and unrelenting, yet Duke Thaddeus' expression remained unchanging.
He absorbed everything—every detail, every nuance, every carefully measured sentence. But his focus had already shifted to something more critical.
"Then what about you?" His voice was calm, level, demanding.
Aeliana inhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his. She had expected this question. Waited for it.
Because this moment—this very moment—was inevitable.
For years, her father had been the one holding all the power, all the knowledge, all the control.
Now?
It was her turn.
So, instead of answering immediately, she leaned forward ever so slightly, her amber eyes burning as she locked onto her father's gaze.
And then, she asked—
"What do you know about it?"
The Duke's fingers twitched slightly against the armrest of his chair.
Just barely.
A movement so minuscule, so controlled, that no one else would have noticed.
But Aeliana did.
And in that split second, she saw something she had never seen before.
Hesitation.
Not uncertainty. Not fear. But hesitation.
Duke Thaddeus was a man who never entertained things he did not fully understand. He was a ruler, a warrior, a master of the battlefield, a commander who dictated the movements of both men and warships alike.
But this?
Still, he did not let it show.
His golden eyes remained locked onto hers, unreadable as ever, and his voice—when he finally spoke—was measured.
"…The vortex."
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then—
Aeliana laughed.
A sharp, sudden sound, full-bodied and rich, echoing through the chamber like a blade slicing through still water.
"AHAHAHAHA—!"
It wasn't just a chuckle, not a restrained amusement, but something raw, something genuine. A laugh pulled straight from her chest, untamed and utterly without restraint.
Duke Thaddeus' golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his expression remaining unreadable, but there was an unmistakable shift in the air between them.
Aeliana's laughter faded into a breathless hum, her lips curling into a smirk.
"That woman…" she exhaled, shaking her head. "She said that?"
The amusement lingered, but beneath it, something dark stirred.
Of course, she had expected it.
Madeleina was a liar, a masterful one at that. A woman who had spent years weaving deception with a grace that was almost admirable—almost.
But hearing it from her father's mouth?
That was truly something else.
"…..What is it?"
His voice was calm, unwavering, but she knew better.
She straightened, her gaze meeting his once more, but this time, there was no more amusement—only cold, seething truth.
"It was not that I simply got caught in the vortex."
Her voice lowered, her words deliberate, laced with something dangerous.
And then, with slow precision, she smiled.
"It was Madeleina who pushed me."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
The Duke did not react—not immediately—but Aeliana didn't miss the way his grip on the armrest of his chair tightened, the barest twitch of his jaw.
CRACK!
The armrest of Duke Thaddeus' chair shattered beneath his grip.
Aeliana watched as the splintered wood crumbled between his fingers, jagged edges pressing against his palm—but he didn't seem to notice. His golden eyes, sharp as a predator's, locked onto her with something unreadable.
"What did you say?"
Aeliana's smirk didn't waver. If anything, it deepened.
"I said," she repeated, slow and deliberate, "it was Madeleina who pushed me."
The words settled in the air like a blade pressing against skin, sharp and undeniable.
"I didn't just get caught by the vortex," she continued, tilting her head slightly. "She made sure of it."
The Duke's expression remained unreadable, but his silence was telling.
Aeliana leaned back, crossing her legs with practiced ease, the very picture of calm.
"What?" she asked, amusement flickering in her tone. "Are you hesitating now? You'll believe some random woman's words over your own child?"