In the Hall of Amber Thrones, Crown Prince Alaric stood before a line of kneeling nobles, the air thick with the scent of incense and polished gold. His aura burned bright—a tangible pressure that filled the chamber, his recent breakthrough to Nascent Soul realm radiating like a contained sun.
"You have all done well," he said smoothly, his voice rolling like warm wine. "But a new piece has entered the game. My youngest brother has drawn attention—unwelcome attention. It would be… prudent to see that such distractions are kept in check."
The nobles murmured their agreement, some eager, others nervous.
From the far shadows, leaning casually against a carved pillar, Darius, the Second Prince, watched with an amused tilt of his head. His silver eyes gleamed—not with cultivation might, for he was still mid Core Formation, but with the sort of cunning that could gut a man before the blade even left the sheath.
When the nobles departed, Darius stepped forward. "Afraid, brother?" he asked lazily.
Alaric's gaze flicked to him like a whip. "A man does not fear a snake, Darius. But he does not ignore it either."
Darius chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "Careful. Some snakes grow into dragons."
Outskirts of River Cael
The road into River Cael wound through lush fields of golden reedgrass that bent gently under the wind's caress. The air here was sweeter than the crisp bite of the mountains near the academy, and yet… there was something heavier beneath it.
Edran rode at a steady pace atop a black-maned Viridian Stallion, its hooves thudding softly against the packed dirt. Beside him, Freya, the Dean's daughter, guided her own snow-white mare with ease, her long chestnut hair catching sunlight in shifting waves.
"You're awfully quiet for someone on their first quest," she said at last, her tone light but her eyes watching him with quiet curiosity.
"I'm just… observing," Edran replied, scanning the horizon. "Quests like these — they're rarely as simple as they look on parchment."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Prudent. Most academy students rush in with more pride than sense."
He didn't answer right away, instead noting the villagers they passed — older men and women glancing up from their work, their faces lined not only with age but with the strain of recent trouble.
At the heart of the village, the quest board stood weathered and sun-bleached, nailed with parchment notices. A few were for mundane work — escort duties, crop transport, beast culling. But the one they'd come for was pinned with a seal bearing the mark of the Seravonne Academy.
Disturbance in River Cael: Livestock missing. Unnatural water discoloration. Unverified sightings of unknown creature.
Freya dismounted first, boots crunching on the gravel as she reached for the posting. "We should speak with the village headman before we go anywhere near the river."
Edran nodded, but as his eyes swept the crowd nearby, a faint prickle of unease brushed the edge of his senses. A tall, cloaked figure stood at the far end of the street, face hidden, watching them. The moment Edran's gaze met theirs, the figure turned away, disappearing into the alley.
Freya noticed his change in expression. "Something wrong?"
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But let's keep moving."
---
From the shadow of a narrow lane, the cloaked figure paused only long enough to trace a sigil into the dirt with the tip of a finger before wiping it away. The mana it left behind was faint, but purposeful — a signal, already speeding toward the network of eyes and ears that served masters far away in the Imperial Palace.
The Outskirt of River Cael loomed ahead, their jagged silhouettes piercing a sea of perpetual mist. The ruins' weathered spires jutted from the earth like the bones of some ancient colossus, and the silence here was so deep it seemed to swallow the world whole.
"Stay sharp," Freya murmured, drawing her silver-edged spear.
The Wraith came without warning—one moment the mist swirled harmlessly, the next it coalesced into a towering, twisted form with crimson eyes that glowed like embers. The crushing weight of its Peak Core Formation aura hit them like a tidal wave.
Edran moved first, his blade flashing in a clean arc. It passed through the creature, but the resistance was like cutting through freezing water. Freya struck next, her spear leaving silver trails in the air, but the Wraith's incorporeal body blurred and reformed after each hit.
They were just at the mid stage of Foundation Establishment realm so encountering a peak Core Formation realm Wraith....was unexpected
Its counterattack was brutal—a sweeping blow of shadowed claws sent Edran skidding across the mossy stones, his breath ragged.
"This thing's too strong," Freya called, her movements blurring as she intercepted another strike. "If you've got something hidden, now's the time to use it!"
From the misted ridge far above, a cloaked figure watched, their voice a whisper to the wind: "Show me, Dragon Vein child…"
Edran's chest burned—not from the fight, but from something deeper, a power buried in his blood. His fingers tightened on his sword. He let the warmth rise, and with it came a roar—not of sound, but of spirit.
Golden light flared along his veins, scales of faint azure ghosting across his forearms. His next step cracked the stone beneath his feet. His next slash tore through the Wraith's shadowed form, the golden aura burning it like fire.
The Wraith screamed, a sound that rattled the bones, but Edran pressed forward, each strike sharper, faster, until at last his blade cut deep into its core. The creature burst apart in a wave of black mist, vanishing into nothing.
Freya stared, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on him. "That… was no ordinary cultivation technique."
Edran sheathed his blade slowly. "You didn't see anything."
Her lips quirked slightly. "Your secret's safe. For now."
But there was no time to linger.
The mist shifted again—half a dozen masked figures emerged, their weapons glinting.
"You've been marked," one hissed.
Edran spent from his last battle found each block tiring...he could not block a sword strike from penetratin his shoulder.
The battle was vicious. Edran's power was spent, and every block rattled his bones. Freya fought like a storm, her spear dancing in silver arcs, but they were being pushed back. Just as the enemy closed in, Freya's hand went to a pendant at her throat.
With a sharp incantation, it flared—unleashing a surge of blinding white flame that consumed their attackers in seconds.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Freya exhaled, glancing at him. "We need to leave. Now."
Far on the ridge, the cloaked figure smiled beneath their hood. "The Dragon Vein awakens. The hunt begins."
-------
The Imperial Palace
The moon hung low over the Seravonne capital, its pale light spilling across the obsidian walls of the Imperial Palace. Inside one of its most secluded towers, the air was still—except for the faint sound of boots on polished marble.
Prince Darius stood near the window, his dark red robes falling in perfect folds, a silver ring glinting on his right hand. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—cold and sharp as black steel—watched the city below as though weighing its worth.
Behind him, the shadows rippled. The cloaked figure from the ruins stepped into the candlelight, kneeling on one knee. "It is as we suspected," the voice rasped. "The boy carries the Dragon Vein."
Darius didn't turn at once. Instead, he let the words settle, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. "So the rumors weren't lies after all."
"He was able to defeat a Peak Core Formation Wraith," the figure continued, "despite only being at Mid Foundation Establishment. He nearly concealed it… but I saw everything."
Finally, Darius turned, his eyes narrowing with predatory focus. "You've done well."
The cloaked figure inclined their head. "There was an… interference. A girl—Freya—used a powerful artifact to end my men before they could finish the job."
Darius's smirk deepened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Then she's worth noting too. But Edran…" His tone dropped, cold and deliberate. "He cannot be allowed to grow. Not with that bloodline. Not with the current… balance of the court."
The watcher hesitated. "Shall I eliminate him now?"
"No," Darius said, walking past them to pour himself a glass of dark wine. "Killing him now would only raise questions. Let the academy believe he is safe. Let him think his secret is hidden. Then—" He swirled the wine, watching it catch the candlelight like blood. "—when the moment is right, we take the Dragon Vein for ourselves."
The figure bowed lower. "As you command."
Darius turned back to the window, gazing at the distant Academy grounds. His reflection in the glass was split by the pale moonlight, one half in shadow.
"Enjoy your little victories, brother," he murmured. "They'll be your last."