The grand halls of the Human Council gleamed with sanctity and power as Lucien and his grandfather, Dorian Arkanveil, arrived at the ancient citadel of unity. This was the highest political body on the continent—a convergence of the nine great families that steered the fate of humanity.
Their footsteps echoed against marble floors inlaid with arcane patterns—ancient runes that had guarded these chambers for centuries. Elaborate tapestries depicting humanity's greatest triumphs and darkest hours adorned the walls, a reminder of why this council existed in the first place.
Lucien felt the weight of history pressing down on him. His grandfather had brought him here not just as an observer but as his heir apparent. The message to the other families was clear: the Arkanveil succession was secure.
"Remember," Dorian said softly as they approached the main chamber, "in this room, every word has three meanings—what is said, what is implied, and what is hidden."
Lucien nodded. "And every gesture telegraphs intent." He'd studied council protocols exhaustively since learning he would attend. The rules were complex, the unspoken traditions even more so.
"You learn quickly." Pride flickered in Dorian's eyes, quickly concealed behind his typical stoic expression.
As they stepped through the threshold of the council building, another pair entered from the opposite side—Ignis Vaelthorn and his grandfather, Marcellus Vaelthorn, the infamous "Crimson Blade." The Vaelthorn family had always been sword-masters, their battle prowess almost unmatched in direct combat.
A subtle tension crackled the moment their gazes met. Ignis' arrogant purple eyes locked with Lucien's calculating red ones. His crimson-red hair fluttered as he tilted his head in amused disdain.
Lucien blinked and whispered to himself, "Nagato the Uzumaki survivor…"
Ignis frowned. "What?"
Lucien didn't answer. The boy simply scoffed and looked away. Another reference from his previous life that no one here would understand. Sometimes they slipped out without warning, fragments of memories from a world of Japanese animation that had once been his only escape.
Ignis smirked. "Retard," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Lucien to hear.
Lucien's lips curled. *You'll pay for that.* He maintained his composure, but inwardly, his analytical mind was already cataloging weaknesses, preparing for their inevitable confrontation.
He activated Eye of Data silently, the system interface appearing in his vision, undetectable to others:
```
[SYSTEM INTERFACE – ACCESS GRANTED]
Name: Ignis Vaelthorn
Race: Human
Age: 14 years 7 months
Rank: E-Rank
Level: 14
---
Traits:
• [Sword God – SSS+ Grade]
• [Combat Genius – SS+ Grade]
---
Skills:
• Vaelthorn Swordsmanship – Lv. 7
• Quick Draw – Lv. 5
• Sword Aura Manipulation – Lv. 6
• High-Speed Combat Movement – Lv. 6
```
Lucien narrowed his eyes. *Sword God and Combat Genius, huh? No wonder you're the so-called chosen one…*
He looked over at his grandfather, who gave him a slight nod as if saying, *Don't lose your cool.*
Lucien smirked inwardly. *I'll teach you some manners during the upcoming academy trials. Where all heirs go at sixteen…* For now, he would observe and learn. Every piece of information was a potential weapon.
Behind them, the older generation's tension also simmered beneath polite smiles. Dorian and Marcellus exchanged greetings, each with layers of hidden meaning in their words.
"Lord Vaelthorn," Dorian spoke, his voice measured and diplomatic. "The council chambers are brightened by your presence."
Marcellus' smile didn't reach his eyes. "Lord Arkanveil, always the master of courtesy. I trust your borders have remained... secure?"
The reference to recent skirmishes at the eastern territories—tacitly supported by Vaelthorn allies—hung in the air between them.
"As secure as your commitment to the Ember Accord," Dorian replied smoothly, referring to a treaty the Vaelthorns had been suspected of undermining.
The game of power had already begun.
---
The Council Chamber itself was a marvel of architectural magnificence—a circular room with a high domed ceiling painted with celestial constellations that actually moved, tracking the real stars above. In the center stood a massive round table carved from a single piece of ancient ironwood, its surface polished to a mirror sheen. Nine ornate chairs surrounded it, each bearing the crest of a great family.
Lucien cataloged the council members as they arrived:
First came Lyra Azureveil, whose family commanded the seas and waters of the realm. Her blue robes flowed like liquid as she moved, and the air around her carried a faint scent of ocean spray. She nodded respectfully to Dorian.
Next was Thaddeus Stoneward, the mountain lord whose family's defensive capabilities had saved humanity countless times. His sturdy frame and granite-like demeanor matched his family's reputation for immovability in both physical and political matters.
The Nightshade twins—Vesper and Valen—entered together, their steps synchronized with eerie precision. Their family's mastery of shadows and espionage made them dangerous players in any political game. Lucien noted how other council members subtly shifted away as they passed.
Helena Luminaris, whose family controlled the continent's largest information network, arrived with a serene smile that belied her reputation for ruthless intelligence gathering. Her eyes briefly met Lucien's, and he felt a strange sensation, as if she were reading him like an open book.
Kasimir Stormbringer strode in with characteristic confidence, lightning crackling faintly around his fingertips. His family's weather manipulation had made them indispensable for agriculture and warfare alike.
Last came Elara Viridian, whose family's mastery of nature and plant life had revolutionized both medicine and warfare. Her normally placid expression was troubled today, and Lucien wondered what concerns she brought to the council.
As the families took their seats, Lucien remained standing behind his grandfather's chair, as did Ignis behind his grandfather's. It was tradition—heirs could observe but not participate. Other council members had brought their own attendants and advisors, who similarly took positions behind their lords.
"We gather today," began Dorian, as the most senior member present, "to address matters of realm security and the growing anomalies at the eastern borders."
Lucien watched the subtle shifts in posture and micro-expressions across the table. He'd been trained to read these signs from childhood—the slight narrowing of Marcellus Vaelthorn's eyes, the almost imperceptible straightening of Helena Luminaris' spine, the way Thaddeus Stoneward's fingers tensed against the table's edge.
"The portal incursions have increased by seventeen percent in the past quarter," Dorian continued, gesturing to a magical projection that appeared above the table, showing statistics and maps. "Our watchtowers have reported unusual energy patterns consistent with those recorded during the Calamity of the Third Age."
A murmur rippled through the chamber. The Calamity was not spoken of lightly—an event three centuries past when thousands of high-level monsters had poured through unstable portals, nearly overwhelming humanity's defenses.
"Surely you don't suggest we face another Calamity?" Marcellus scoffed, though Lucien noted the tension in his shoulders. "Your eastern watchtowers have always been prone to... exaggeration."
Dorian's expression remained impassive. "The data speaks for itself, Lord Vaelthorn. But perhaps you have counter-information? Your family's territories border the eastern reaches as well."
"Our watchtowers report only standard fluctuations," Marcellus replied. "Perhaps your equipment needs calibration."
*Or perhaps yours needs honesty,* Lucien thought, though he maintained his neutral expression.
Lyra Azureveil leaned forward. "The sea currents tell a different story. My tide-readers have noted disturbing patterns in the eastern waters—similar to those recorded before previous portal storms."
"The Nightshade scouts confirm unusual activity," Vesper added, her voice soft but carrying. "Not just monsters, but organized movements. Something—or someone—appears to be coordinating beyond the normal portal chaos."
This revelation caused a deeper stir. Random monster incursions were one thing; coordinated attacks suggested intelligence—possibly even a dungeon lord stirring in the depths between worlds.
Lucien watched as alliances began to form through glances and subtle nods. The Knight Bloc—Vaelthorn, Stoneward, and Stormbringer—seemed skeptical. The Mage Bloc—Arkanveil, Azureveil, and Luminaris—appeared more concerned. The Nightshade twins and Viridian, typically swing votes, were unusually aligned with the Mage Bloc today.
"What do you propose, Lord Arkanveil?" Helena Luminaris asked, her piercing gaze fixed on Dorian.
"Increased watchfulness, for now. A coordinated effort between our border forces. And permission to conduct deeper scrying into the portal fluctuations," Dorian answered. "If these signs portend what I fear, we must be prepared."
"And conveniently position more of your forces near my territories," Marcellus interjected. "A transparent ploy for military advantage."
Dorian's expression didn't change, but Lucien noticed the subtle tightening around his eyes—the only sign of his grandfather's irritation. "The safety of the realm supersedes territorial concerns, Lord Vaelthorn. Unless you believe otherwise?"
Marcellus' face darkened. "I believe in proof before action, not fear-mongering."
Kasimir Stormbringer raised a hand. "Perhaps a compromise. Joint patrols—Arkanveil and Vaelthorn forces together, with observers from neutral families."
The suggestion hung in the air, a tentative bridge across the growing chasm between the two most powerful families.
Throughout the exchange, Lucien periodically glanced at Ignis, who seemed bored by the proceedings. *Typical,* Lucien thought. *All combat talent, no strategic mind.* But when the topic turned to the academy trials, he noticed Ignis perk up, a predatory gleam entering his purple eyes.
"Before we adjourn," Helena Luminaris said, "I wish to address the upcoming Nalanda Academy trials. All eligible heirs will be participating this year—a rare confluence. Given the... tensions... between certain families, perhaps we should discuss parameters."
All eyes briefly flickered to Lucien and Ignis, the subtext clear. Everyone knew of the rivalry between the two heirs, exacerbated by Ignis' natural talent and Lucien's seemingly methodical climb from mediocrity to excellence.
"The academy trials have their own traditions and rules," Dorian stated firmly. "They remain separate from council politics."
"Indeed," Marcellus agreed, perhaps the first time he'd supported Dorian's position all day. "Let the young ones settle their own hierarchies. It builds character."
Lucien caught Ignis' gaze across the chamber. A silent challenge passed between them, and Lucien allowed himself a small, knowing smile. *You may be the chosen one, but I've been playing chess while you've been playing with swords.*
Ignis' eyes narrowed, clearly unsettled by Lucien's confidence.
As the meeting concluded and the families prepared to depart, Dorian placed a hand on Lucien's shoulder. "You observed well today."
"I learned much," Lucien replied quietly. "The Vaelthorns are hiding something about the eastern borders."
Dorian's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh?"
"Lord Vaelthorn's denial was too quick, too rehearsed. And his grandson kept avoiding eye contact whenever the eastern territories were mentioned."
A thoughtful expression crossed Dorian's face. "Sharp eyes, indeed. We'll investigate further."
As they walked from the chamber, Lucien felt Ignis' glare boring into his back. The council meeting might be over, but their personal battle was just beginning. In two years, they would face each other at the Nalanda Academy, where political maneuvering would give way to more direct confrontations.
*I'll be ready,* Lucien promised himself. *This is just the opening move.*