The atmosphere in the Grand Hall of the Aetheleon Palace had shifted from one of joyous reunion to a suffocating, predatory tension. In the world of high-level cultivation and ancient bloodlines, suspicion was a poison that could dissolve even the strongest familial bonds. The ministers, their eyes narrowed like hungry vultures, leaned forward. The magistrates gripped their jade tablets so tightly their knuckles turned white. All of them waited for a single truth: Was the returned Prince a human, or was he a monster in disguise?
Beatrice, the Goddess of War, stepped toward Rayn. Her presence was like a crushing tide, a weight that made the very air vibrate. She reached out her hand, her fingers glowing with a faint, ethereal light, aiming for Rayn's chest.
Rayn, still dressed in his silk pajamas—now stained with his mother's tears—felt a surge of primal alarm. On Earth, if someone tried to touch him without permission, his security detail would have them pinned in seconds. Here, there were no guards for him. There was only the cold, hard logic of a world he didn't understand.
A dragon? Rayn thought, his mind racing with the speed of a high-frequency trading algorithm. How can I be a dragon? My mother is human. My father... For the first time in his life, Rayn allowed himself to think of the man who had abandoned him in the neon-lit jungles of Earth. He didn't know if his father was dead, hiding, or watching from the shadows of this magical realm. But he knew one thing: his father had placed him on Earth for a reason. There was a hidden pact, a secret history that Rayn vowed to uncover. But he could not ask—not yet. To show weakness here was to invite death.
As Beatrice's hand drew closer, Rayn stepped back, his face a mask of frozen obsidian.
"What is happening?" Rayn barked in English, his voice echoing with the authority of a billionaire. "Why are all of you accusing me of being a dragon? Do I look like a lizard to you? I am as human as any man in this room!"
The court remained silent, the alien language sounding like the harsh crackle of a coming storm. All eyes turned to Jai.
Jai stepped forward, his heart heavy with the weight of translation. He looked at Rayn and spoke in Axeleric, his voice low and urgent. "Rayn, I am sorry to tell you this, but there is a rumor that has haunted this palace for twenty years. They believe your mother, Aunt Rena, had an affair with a Dragon Sovereign. They believe you are a half-blood monstrosity. In this world, the war between humans and dragons left scars that will never heal."
Rayn's eyes narrowed. "And if I am a dragon? What then?"
Jai's expression went grim. "If the ritual confirms it, they will kill you without a second thought. To them, a dragon is not a person; it is a calamity that must be extinguished."
Rayn felt a cold shiver run down his spine. "They would execute me? Right after bringing me back? Why?"
"It is a history of blood and ash," Jai explained. "First, we must survive this. Be calm. Let them perform the ritual. If you resist, you only prove their suspicions."
Rayn looked at the crowd—the shouting ministers, the greedy eyes of Mable, the weeping form of his mother. He felt a flicker of terror, the kind he hadn't felt since his first hostile takeover on Wall Street. He had found a family only to have them prepare his gallows.
"Wait," Rayn whispered. "Will they rip my flesh like my mother did her own?"
"I don't know," Jai replied honestly. "This is the Monster Ritual—The Mirror of the Ancestors. It is a trial that peels back the skin to see the soul."
Jai turned to Beatrice and gave a sharp nod. "Madam, he is ready. Let the truth be seen."
Beatrice did not hesitate. She placed her palm directly onto Rayn's chest. With a sharp flick of her fingers, the buttons of his silk pajama top burst, exposing his pale skin to the cold air of the hall.
"In the name of the Founding Kings," Beatrice murmured, her voice a low, rhythmic chant that seemed to draw the very shadows from the corners of the room.
A massive explosion of golden light erupted from Rayn's chest. It wasn't the warm light of a sun; it was a searing, acidic radiance known as the Monster Ritual. This light was designed to react with the 'corrupt' essence of magical beasts. If a single drop of dragon blood resided in his heart, the light would turn black and consume him from the inside out.
Rayn gasped, his back arching as the energy flooded his system. It felt like molten lead was being poured into his veins.
Suddenly, a mark on Rayn's neck began to glow—not with gold, but with a thick, pulsating crimson. It was the shape of two crossed swords.
"THE MARK!" a minister screamed, leaping to his feet. "IT IS THE CRIMSON BRAND! ONLY THE DRAGON LORDS CARRY THE SCARLET MARK! KILL HIM! KILL THE BEAST BEFORE HE AWAKENS!"
The hall descended into chaos. The soldiers drew their blades, the metallic shring of steel echoing like a death knell. Rena screamed, throwing herself toward the bed, but Alaric held her back, his own face a mask of horror.
For two agonizing minutes, the golden force continued to pour into Rayn. He didn't fall. He didn't scream. He stood his ground, his teeth gritted so hard they threatened to shatter. A huge wound opened on his chest, the flesh turning a charred, blackened purple as the ritual searched for a monster that wasn't there. The smell of burnt ozone and singed skin filled the air.
"EXECUTE HIM!" the ministers roared. "GIVE A MEMORIAL TO OUR ANCESTORS WHO DIED BY DRAGON FIRE! HANG THE SOVEREIGN!"
Rayn looked at the sea of hateful faces. He saw the "family" he had hoped for turning into a mob of executioners. The betrayal was a sharper pain than the burn on his chest.
"ENOUGH!"
Beatrice's voice was a sonic boom that shattered the glass windows in the high rafters. The pressure she released was so immense that the ministers were slammed back into their seats, their breath stolen.
She turned to a minister who had been particularly vocal—a man who had already called for the gallows. With a blur of motion too fast for the human eye to follow, she utilized her secret art: The Slicer.
A thin line of white light flickered. The minister gasped, clutching his mouth as blood sprayed between his fingers. His tongue fell to the marble floor, twitching.
"The next person to call for an execution before I have spoken," Beatrice said, her voice like grinding glaciers, "will lose more than their speech."
The hall turned into a dead silence. The strongest woman in the Human Kingdom had spoken, and in Aetheleon, her word was the only law that mattered.
Beatrice stepped back, her eyes fixed on the glowing crimson mark on Rayn's neck. It was a shield, and behind it, two swords crossed in a perfect 'X'. The mark was burning with an intensity that seemed to defy the ritual.
"Look closely, you fools," Beatrice commanded.
She pulled back the sleeve of her own warrior's dress. On her biceps, a similar mark sat—but hers glowed with a pure, holy white light. She then grabbed Rena, lifting her leg to show a faint, colorless version of the same brand on her calf.
"This is not the mark of a dragon," Beatrice explained to the stunned court. "This is the Crest of the Chenwongo Sovereigns. It is the brand of our lineage, hidden for generations."
She gestured for Edward and Alaric to come forward. Both men stepped into the light, baring their wrists and necks. On their skin sat a different mark—not a sword, but a Heavy Shield.
The ministers were dumbfounded. They had never seen the marks side-by-side.
"Our bloodline is divided," Beatrice continued, her voice echoing with ancient authority. "The Shield Mark represents the descendants of those who served the Great Empire. It is the power of protection, the legacy of Emperor Dominatrix's protectors. Most of us carry this shield."
She then pointed at the crimson swords on Rayn's neck.
"But the Sword Mark... that is the mark of the Kings of DD or The man who married Emperor Dominatrix our chenwongo Ancestors, the primordial rulers who predated even the Human Kingdom. It is the mark of the Conqueror. No one in our family has carried the crimson swords in three hundred years."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall.
"Wait," Mable said, standing up despite her fear. "If the swords are the Conqueror and the shield is the Protector... what does it mean that Rayn has both?"
Beatrice looked at Rayn with a look of genuine awe, a glimmer of tears in her battle-hardened eyes. "It means he is the Supreme Nexus. Jai carries the shadow of Dominatrix's power, but Rayn... Rayn carries the raw, unrefined blood of both the Emperor and the King. He is not a dragon. He is something far more terrifying to our enemies."
She looked toward the magistrates, her voice steady. "He is a High Sovereign." Beatrice paused as a memory surfaced. "I recall those words from my ancestor's journals. It is written that a forefather of our lineage once awakened both the Sword and Shield marks. He was so peerless in his era that every soul bowed before him; he reigned as the King of the Whole World."
The clarification hit the hall like a physical blow. The ministers who had been calling for his death moments ago now felt their knees turn to jelly. They realized they had just demanded the execution of a man who might one day hold the power to unmake the world.
One by one, they stood up and bowed their heads, their voices trembling as they chanted in unison: "Our apologies, Lord Rayn! We underestimated the heavens! Our accusations were born of ignorance! Please forgive our transgression!"
Rayn stood amidst the bowing crowd, his chest still smoldering from the ritual. He didn't feel relief; he felt a cold, righteous fury. He looked at the kneeling men, his lip curling in a sneer of pure Earthly arrogance.
"You all dared to accuse me?" Rayn said, his English voice cutting through the silence like a diamond-tipped drill. "Do you have any idea who you are dealing with? I am the youngest self-made billionaire on my planet. I have destroyed men more powerful than you with a single phone call. In my world, I am the sun, and you are all just shadows."
Jai translated the gist of it, though he softened the "billionaire" part to "King of Wealth."
Beatrice smiled—a rare, dangerous smile. She liked the fire in his eyes. She liked the way he didn't bow to the pressure.
"The blood is confirmed," Beatrice announced, her voice booming. "But blood is only potential. Power must be awakened."
She turned to the entire hall. "Listen well! The Awakening Ceremony will be held in two days! I am going to make my grandson participate. We shall see what dormant gods reside in the soul of the man from Earth!"
The hall erupted in cheers, a frantic attempt by the court to get back into Beatrice's good graces. They began to leave, whispering about the coming ceremony.
Jai stepped up to Rayn, offering a hand to help him back to the bed. "Two days, Bro. That's when you get your powers. When I did it, I got the Golden Scourge. If Grandma is right and you have a double mark... you might awaken something that hasn't been seen since the dawn of time."
Rayn took Jai's hand, his grip crushing. "I don't care about 'seeing' it, Jai. I want the power to ensure that no one in this room ever raises a voice against my mother again."
Jai nodded, seeing the birth of a new legend. The first awakening gave the world the Golden Scourge. Now, the world waited to see what the Cold King would bring back from the void.