The silence stretched like a taut wire, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Every breath in the chamber felt stolen, every heartbeat too loud in the oppressive quiet that had descended the moment Ariel stepped through those massive doors.
Seraphina continued forward, her steps measured and deliberate, her hand resting lightly on her grandson's arm. The gesture was both supportive and symbolic, a clear statement to everyone present that the matriarch stood with the boy they'd all written off as dead.
Ariel matched her pace perfectly, his posture straight, his expression carefully neutral. Inside, his heart hammered against his ribs with enough force that he half expected everyone to hear it. But outwardly, he maintained the composure his grandmother had drilled into him during their brief preparation.
'Don't speak unless absolutely necessary,' she'd instructed. 'Let me handle the politics. You just need to stand there and be undeniable proof that you've awakened. Your mere presence will do most of the work.'
STEP.
STEP.
STEP.
They passed the standing Blood Crows, young faces staring with expressions ranging from shock to envy to calculation. Ariel felt the weight of their gazes like physical pressure, dozens of eyes tracking his every movement, searching for weakness or deception.
The blue light still danced around him in subtle patterns, his mana responding to the charged atmosphere, flowing through his meridians in visible streams that no cultivator could mistake for anything but genuine awakening. The energy hummed beneath his skin, warm and constant, a reminder that this was real, that he'd actually achieved what everyone said was impossible.
They reached the semicircle of chairs where the Pureblood Crows sat frozen in various states of disbelief. Ariel could see the resemblance in their faces now, traces of both his grandfather's harsh features and his grandmother's elegant bone structure distributed across different combinations. These were his uncles and aunts, his father's siblings, children of Erlin and Seraphina, people who'd watched him deteriorate for years without much concern beyond polite sympathy.
And now they stared at him like he'd risen from the grave.
Seraphina stopped exactly twenty feet from the throne, the precise distance dictated by formal protocol. She released Ariel's arm and stepped slightly to the side, creating space for him to execute the greeting she'd taught him.
Ariel moved forward three paces, stopped, and placed his right fist over his heart. The gesture was formal, traditional, the proper salutation of a Crowcrest family member to the Primarch. He bowed at the waist, not deeply enough to suggest subservience but enough to show respect.
"Grandfather," he said, his voice steady despite the nervousness churning in his gut. "This grandson greets you. I apologize for the interruption and any concern my absence may have caused during my illness."
Erlin's silver eyes bore into him, and Ariel felt the weight of that gaze like standing before a star. Raw power radiated from the old man, pressure so intense that maintaining his bow required actual effort. His enhanced body handled it better than a normal cultivator's would have, but he could still feel the strain.
THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out other sounds. Seconds crawled past like hours. The pressure increased fractionally, testing him, measuring him, evaluating whether he deserved to stand in this chamber at all.
Then, mercifully, Erlin spoke.
"Rise."
The single word carried absolute authority. Ariel straightened immediately, meeting his grandfather's gaze with as much confidence as he could muster. The old man's expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in those ancient eyes that might have been approval.
Ariel turned to face the nine Pureblood Crows, repeating the gesture. Right fist over heart, slight bow, the collective greeting appropriate for addressing multiple family elders simultaneously.
"Honored uncles and aunts, this nephew greets you. I apologize for any distress my condition may have caused the family."
The formal words felt strange on his tongue, too stiff, too rehearsed. But Seraphina had insisted on proper protocol. 'They're looking for any excuse to dismiss you. Don't give them ammunition by being disrespectful or casual.'
He straightened again and stepped back, resuming his position beside his grandmother. His part in the greeting ritual was complete. Now he just had to stand there and let the adults argue about his fate like he wasn't present.
The silence continued for another heartbeat. Two. Three.
Then Kaelen erupted from his chair.
"How?!" The word burst from him with enough force to echo off the stone walls. "How is this possible? You were dying! The healers said weeks at most! How in the name of the heavens did you awaken?"
His voice climbed with each question, control slipping as shock gave way to confusion and something that might have been anger. The calculated composure he'd maintained earlier had completely shattered, replaced by genuine disbelief that bordered on panic.
Seraphina's lips curved into a smile that held no warmth, only cold satisfaction. She'd been waiting for this, for someone to break first and give her the opening she needed.
"It's not particularly difficult to sense, my dear Kaelen," she said, her voice light and almost amused. "The boy is awakened. His core is active. His mana flows properly through open meridians. What more is there to ask?"
"Everything!" Valeria stood now as well, her green eyes blazing with intensity that contradicted her usual cool demeanor. "Mother, he's been bedridden for two weeks. He was on death's door. And now suddenly he's not only recovered but awakened? That doesn't happen! Cores don't spontaneously activate in seventeen year olds with terminal illnesses!"
"Apparently they do," Seraphina replied, her smile widening slightly. "Since we're all currently observing exactly that phenomenon."
"This is absurd!" Cyrus joined his siblings in standing, his perfect features twisted with frustration. "There must be an explanation. Some technique, some intervention, something that accounts for this impossible recovery!"
"The explanation," Seraphina said with exaggerated patience, "is standing right there in front of you. He awakened. Sometimes miracles occur. Perhaps you should simply be grateful rather than interrogating them."
Dorian slammed his hand on the armrest of his chair, the sound cracking through the chamber like a whip. BAM! "Grateful? You want us to be grateful? Do you understand what this means? We've spent months preparing for succession planning, arranging candidates, building consensus. And now he shows up alive and awakened and completely upends everything!"
"How inconvenient for you," Seraphina said dryly. "My apologies that my grandson's survival has complicated your political maneuvering."
The sarcasm was sharp enough to draw blood. Several of the Pureblood Crows flinched, recognizing their mother's anger despite her pleasant tone.
Morgana stepped forward, her amber eyes narrowed with suspicion. "We need verification. External cultivation experts examining his core, confirming this awakening is genuine and stable. For all we know, this could be temporary, some technique that mimics true awakening without actual foundation."
"You dare suggest I would bring a fraud before this council?" Seraphina's voice dropped to a dangerous register, the pleasant facade cracking to reveal steel beneath. "You dare imply that I, your mother, would participate in deception?"
"We're suggesting nothing," Isolde said quickly, her cold voice attempting to de-escalate. "But verification is reasonable. Unprecedented circumstances warrant thorough examination. Surely you agree that due diligence serves everyone's interests, including the boy's."
"The boy," Seraphina repeated, her tone making the words sound like an insult, "is standing right there. The boy has a name. The boy is Crown Crow. And the boy is awakened beyond any shadow of doubt."
She paused, letting that sink in, then continued with deadly precision. "But since you all seem so concerned about proper verification, allow me to provide clarity."
She gestured toward Ariel, and he felt his mana respond automatically to her proximity. The energy around him brightened visibly, streams of blue light becoming more pronounced, more obvious. The display was unconscious on his part but effective. Every cultivator in the room could sense the genuine flow, could feel the reality of an active core pumping energy through properly opened meridians.
"E rank," Seraphina said simply. "Low tier, yes, but unquestionably E rank. He awakened mere hours ago and has already advanced beyond the baseline F rank that most cultivators spend weeks or months struggling past."
The reaction was immediate and explosive.
"E rank?!"
"That's impossible!"
"No one advances that quickly!"
"Hours? She said hours?!"
The chamber erupted into chaos. The careful political tension that had dominated the earlier proceedings shattered completely as every Pureblood Crow began speaking at once, their voices overlapping into an incomprehensible cacophony of shock, disbelief, and barely contained panic.
Several of the Blood Crows behind them started shouting questions or exclamations as well, the younger generation's composure breaking under the weight of this revelation. The noise swelled, bouncing off stone walls and pillars, creating a din that would have been painful if Ariel's enhanced perception hadn't automatically adjusted to filter it.
Through the chaos, Ariel stood motionless, maintaining the neutral expression his grandmother had instructed. Inside, he felt a surge of grim satisfaction. They'd dismissed him. Written him off. Planned his succession while he was still breathing. And now that casual cruelty was coming back to haunt them.
'Let them panic,' he thought. 'Let them realize that the dying child they ignored has become something they can't simply brush aside.'
BOOM!
The sound wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. But it cut through the chaos like a blade through water, silencing every voice instantly.
Erlin hadn't moved from his throne. Hadn't raised his voice. Hadn't made any visible gesture of power. He'd simply allowed a fraction more of his presence to leak into the room, a tiny increase in the pressure that constantly surrounded him.
But that fraction was enough. The transcendent power that dwelled in his ancient frame pressed down on everyone present like the weight of mountains. Breathing became difficult. Moving felt like wading through thick syrup. Several of the younger Blood Crows actually fell to their knees, unable to support themselves under the strain.
Even the Pureblood Crows, all of them A rank cultivators in their own right, went rigid. Their faces paled. Sweat beaded on foreheads despite the cool air. They'd been reminded, forcefully and unmistakably, of exactly who held ultimate authority in this family.
Silence returned, absolute and profound.
Erlin's silver eyes swept across his children, and Ariel watched several of them physically shrink under that gaze. When the old man spoke, his voice was quiet but carried to every corner of the vast chamber.
"Sit."
The Pureblood Crows collapsed back into their chairs like puppets with cut strings. Even those who'd been standing moved with mechanical precision, compelled by authority that transcended simple command and approached fundamental law.
The pressure eased slightly, allowing normal breathing again. But the reminder lingered in everyone's mind. This was a transcendent. Someone who had broken through the ceiling that limited normal cultivation. The gap between him and his A rank children wasn't just quantitative but qualitative. He existed on a different level of reality.
Seraphina chose that moment of stunned silence to make her move. But before she could speak, she turned slightly toward her husband, her expression softening in a way visible only to those paying close attention. When she addressed him, her voice carried warmth that hadn't been present moments ago.
"Darling, before entering this chamber, I heard our children discussing a competition." She spoke to him directly now, intimate despite the public setting. "A tournament to determine the next Crown Crow through merit and demonstrated ability. Is that what was being proposed?"
Something shifted in Erlin's expression. Not dramatically, not obviously, but those ancient silver eyes lost a fraction of their terrible intensity when looking at his wife. The pressure surrounding him eased marginally, creating a pocket of slightly less oppressive air around where she stood.
Kaelen, recognizing he was being addressed indirectly, managed a strained nod. "That was our proposal, yes."
"Excellent," Seraphina said, her attention splitting between her husband and her children. "I agree completely. Competition is exactly what this situation requires."
Confusion rippled through the assembled Crows. This wasn't the resistance they'd expected. Their mother agreeing with them seemed suspicious, dangerous, like walking into an obvious trap without being able to see where the snare was hidden.
"However," Seraphina continued, and now her voice took on steel again as she addressed her children, "the circumstances have changed significantly. When you proposed this competition, you assumed the Crown Crow position was vacant or would be shortly. That assumption was incorrect. The position is not vacant. It is filled by someone who is not only alive but awakened and actively cultivating."
She let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "Therefore, the competition cannot simply be about selecting a new Crown Crow. That decision has already been made by tradition and bloodline. Instead, the competition must serve a different purpose."
"What purpose?" Darius asked, his spatial affinity apparently making him less affected by the lingering pressure. "If the position is already filled, what exactly are we competing for?"
"Validation," Seraphina said simply. "Confirmation that the current Crown Crow deserves the position through more than just inheritance. You want merit? You want demonstrated ability? Then let us have a tournament where all eligible candidates can prove themselves, including the one who currently holds the title."
She turned to face Erlin fully now, and her entire demeanor shifted. The cold political operator faded, replaced by something warmer, more genuine. When she spoke to him, it was with the familiarity of nearly a century together.
"Honey, I propose a tournament be held in six months' time. All Blood Crows aged seventeen and above who have awakened their cores will be eligible to participate. The winner will be confirmed as Crown Crow, whether that winner is the current title holder or someone else."
Erlin's gaze remained fixed on his wife, and Ariel saw something he hadn't noticed before. The way his grandfather's harsh features softened fractionally when looking at Seraphina. The way the terrible pressure that emanated from him bent around her, creating a bubble of relative comfort in her vicinity.
Love. After nearly a century of marriage and ten children, the transcendent cultivator who could end nations still softened for his wife.
Murmurs erupted immediately among the Pureblood Crows, quieter this time, more controlled, but still carrying clear agitation.
"Six months?" Lucien spoke up, his gray eyes calculating. "That's barely any time at all. Most of the candidates have been cultivating for years. Some for decades. You're asking us to accept that a boy who awakened today can compete on equal footing after only half a year of training?"
"I'm not asking anything," Seraphina corrected pleasantly, though her eyes remained on her husband. "I'm proposing conditions under which a fair competition can occur. If you believe your children are so superior, six months shouldn't matter. Their years of experience should still provide overwhelming advantage."
"Unless," Selene said softly, her blue eyes thoughtful, "you're planning to give him some kind of special training during that time. Some advantage that normal cultivators don't receive."
"Not special," Seraphina replied, finally turning back to address her daughter. "Mandatory. The Crowcrest family maintains several training grounds specifically designed to push awakened cultivators to their limits, to accelerate their growth through controlled adversity. These facilities exist precisely for situations like this, where rapid advancement is necessary."
She paused, then delivered her next words with deliberate emphasis. "Before the tournament, the current Crown Crow will undergo training at one of these facilities. The same training that previous crown candidates and heirs have experienced throughout our family's history. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply the traditional preparation that any potential heir should receive."
Understanding dawned on several faces. The Crowcrest training grounds were legendary, facilities where mana density was artificially enhanced and survival itself became a cultivation exercise. They were dangerous. Many who entered failed to complete the programs. Some never left at all.
But those who survived emerged transformed, their power and skill elevated beyond normal progression.
"You want to throw a newly awakened E rank into one of those death traps?" Kaelen's voice carried genuine shock. "That's insane! He'll be killed!"
"Then he'll be killed," Seraphina said with brutal honesty. "And you'll get your vacant Crown Crow position to fill through your tournament. But if he survives, if he completes the training and emerges strong enough to compete, then perhaps he deserves the position after all."
The logic was ruthless but undeniable. Either Ariel would prove himself through the harshest possible test, or he would die and solve their succession problem permanently. There was no middle ground, no room for political maneuvering or soft compromises.
"That's not fair!" Cyrus protested. "He's barely awakened! Sending him into training meant for established cultivators is essentially execution!"
"Life isn't fair," Seraphina replied coldly. "The position of heir isn't awarded based on fairness. It's claimed through strength, skill, and the will to survive. If he lacks those qualities, then he shouldn't hold the title regardless of his bloodline."
She turned back to Erlin, and her voice softened again, taking on tones meant only for him despite the public setting. "Darling, this is my proposal. A tournament in six months, open to all eligible Blood Crows. The current Crown Crow will undergo traditional training beforehand. The winner claims or confirms the title based on demonstrated merit. All objections to the current succession can be settled definitively through combat, the way our family has always resolved such disputes."
The chamber fell silent again, but this time the quiet held a different quality. Not shocked silence but contemplative, calculating silence. Minds worked through the proposal from every angle, searching for hidden advantages or disadvantages.
Several of the Pureblood Crows exchanged glances, clearly conducting silent conversations through minute expressions and tiny gestures. The Blood Crows behind them whispered to each other, their voices too quiet for normal hearing but perfectly clear to Ariel's enhanced perception.
"Six months isn't enough time..."
"But if he dies in training, the position opens up..."
"What if he actually survives? What if he gets strong enough..."
"Impossible. No one advances that quickly..."
"He went from dying to E rank in hours. Who knows what he can do in six months..."
The whispers swirled through the chamber like wind, carrying doubts and fears and calculations. Political alliances that had seemed solid minutes ago suddenly felt uncertain. Plans that had appeared inevitable now required complete revision.
Morgana stood slowly, her crimson robes rustling. "I have concerns about the training ground selection. Different facilities offer different advantages. Which one are you proposing he use?"
Seraphina's smile grew cold again as she addressed her daughter. "The Deep Forge."
Gasps echoed through the chamber. Even Erlin's eyebrows rose fractionally, and for a moment his gaze sharpened on his wife with something that might have been concern beneath the transcendent calm.
The Deep Forge. Ariel didn't have specific memories of it from his inherited knowledge, but he could sense the weight that name carried. Whatever the Deep Forge was, it scared people who thought six month accelerated training was already insane.
"That's suicide," Dorian said flatly. "The Deep Forge has a seventy percent fatality rate even for B rank cultivators. You're proposing to send an E rank into it? That's not training. That's murder."
"It's the same facility your eldest brother trained in before becoming heir," Seraphina replied, and now her voice carried quiet pain alongside conviction. "If his child carries even a fraction of his talent, he'll survive. If not, then perhaps the bloodline isn't as strong as we hoped."
The emotional manipulation was masterful. She'd invoked their dead brother, the beloved eldest who'd become Primarch before his untimely death. Making any argument against the proposal sound like doubting his legacy. Several of the Pureblood Crows visibly struggled with that, their desire to object warring against their respect for their lost sibling.
But more than that, mentioning him had an effect on Erlin that nothing else had achieved. The old man's expression shifted, ancient grief flickering across features that rarely showed such vulnerability. His silver eyes moved to Ariel, really looking at him for perhaps the first time since the boy had entered, seeing not just an awakened cultivator but his son's child.
"This is madness," Valeria said, but her voice lacked its earlier conviction. "Even if we accept the tournament idea, there must be better training options that don't involve probable death."
"Probable death is what makes it effective," Seraphina countered, though her attention remained primarily on her husband, watching his reaction. "Cultivation advances fastest when facing genuine life threatening pressure. The Deep Forge provides exactly that environment. If we want a Crown Crow who can eventually become a worthy heir, we cannot coddle them with safe training methods."
Arguments erupted again, less explosive than before but still heated. The Pureblood Crows debated among themselves, voices rising and falling in waves of contention. Some argued for accepting the proposal as stated. Others wanted modifications, different training grounds, longer timeframes, additional conditions.
Through it all, Erlin sat silent. His presence had eased back to its normal oppressive baseline, no longer actively crushing everyone, but the reminder of what he could do lingered in everyone's minds. He simply watched, observed, evaluated everything being said with those ancient silver eyes that missed nothing.
But Ariel noticed something the others might have missed. The way his grandfather's gaze kept returning to Seraphina. The way the harsh lines around his eyes softened fractionally when looking at her. The way he listened more intently when she spoke than when his children argued.
Nearly a century together. Ten children raised. A transcendent cultivator who'd lived through wars and upheavals and the endless march of time. And still, his wife's voice carried weight that even his powerful descendants' arguments couldn't match.
Ariel remained motionless beside his grandmother, playing his assigned role of living proof. His enhanced hearing caught every whispered argument, every muttered calculation. Plans were being made and discarded in real time as the political landscape shifted beneath everyone's feet.
The Blood Crows behind the seated Purebloods had divided into camps. Some looked excited at the prospect of competing for Crown Crow in a tournament. Others looked worried, calculating odds. A few stared at Ariel with expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility to something that might have been fear.
He met their gazes when they looked his way, maintaining that carefully neutral expression. But inside, he let himself feel a small spark of satisfaction. They'd underestimated him. Written him off. And now they were scrambling to adjust to reality.
The debate continued for several more minutes, growing increasingly circular as the same points were raised and countered repeatedly. Finally, Kaelen raised his voice above the others.
"Enough! This achieves nothing. We cannot reach consensus through endless argument." He turned to face the throne directly. "Father, you've heard Mother's proposal and our concerns. The decision ultimately rests with you. What is your verdict?"
Every eye turned to Erlin. The chamber fell silent once more, that profound quiet that had marked every significant moment since this meeting began. Ariel felt his heartbeat accelerate despite his efforts at calm. This was it. The moment everything would be decided.
THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.
The old man's gaze moved from his children to his wife, holding there for several long moments. Something passed between them, communication that transcended words, understanding built over decades together. Seraphina met his look with quiet confidence, her expression soft but determined.
Then Erlin's presence intensified. Not the crushing pressure from before, but something different. Something that felt like the air before a lightning strike, charged and heavy with potential. Reality itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his words.
When he finally spoke, his voice carried absolute finality.
"The proposal is accepted."
Four words. Simple, direct, allowing no room for interpretation or argument.
"Six months from today, a tournament will be held. All Blood Crows aged seventeen and above with awakened cores may participate. The winner will be confirmed as Crown Crow regardless of current title status."
He paused, his silver eyes fixing on Ariel with intensity that made the younger man's enhanced body want to flinch. But Ariel held steady, meeting that terrible gaze with as much courage as he could gather.
"The current Crown Crow will undergo training at the Deep Forge beginning one week from today. He will remain there for five months. Success or failure will be determined by survival. If he lives, he may compete. If he dies, the position becomes vacant and the tournament winner claims it uncontested."
Erlin's gaze swept across his nine children, and Ariel saw several of them actually recoil under that look.
"This verdict is final. No appeals. No modifications. No delays. Any who wish to challenge it may step forward now."
The words hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall. The invitation was clear and completely hollow. No one would challenge a transcendent's direct decree. Doing so would be tantamount to declaring war against someone who could end your existence with a thought.
Silence answered him. Heavy, absolute, unchallengeable silence.
"Good," Erlin said, and the pressure eased fractionally. "Then this conference is concluded. All participants have five months to prepare. Make your arrangements accordingly."
He rose from the throne, his massive frame unfolding to its full intimidating height. The movement was fluid despite his apparent age, carrying none of the stiffness or slowness that mortals associated with elderly people. He was a mountain given human shape, power compressed into flesh and bone.
But before moving toward the exit, he paused. His gaze found Seraphina across the chamber, and for just a moment, the transcendent cultivator who terrified nations looked at his wife with something approaching tenderness.
She smiled at him, small and private, meant only for him despite the audience.
Then he turned and strode toward a side exit, his steps measured and unhurried. The pressure that constantly surrounded him moved with him like an invisible sphere, maintaining its oppressive weight even in departure.
The massive door through which he exited swung closed behind him with a sound like thunder.
BOOM!
And then he was gone, leaving behind a chamber full of people still processing what had just occurred.
For several long seconds, no one moved. No one spoke. The shock was too profound, the implications too vast to immediately comprehend.
Then, like a dam breaking, everyone moved at once. The Pureblood Crows erupted from their chairs, some heading for the exits while others clustered together in urgent conversation. The Blood Crows scattered, some rushing off to presumably start preparing while others remained frozen in place, staring at Ariel with expressions he couldn't quite read.
Voices rose in a cacophony of reaction.
"This is insane..."
"Six months! How are we supposed to..."
"The Deep Forge! Did you hear that? The Deep Forge!"
"He won't survive. No way he survives..."
"But what if he does? What if..."
"We need to accelerate training immediately..."
"Contact the elders, get the best techniques..."
The chaos swirled around them, but Ariel barely noticed. His attention was fixed on his grandmother, who stood beside him with that same cold smile still playing at her lips.
She'd done it. Maneuvered the entire family into accepting a situation that gave Ariel a chance, however slim, to prove himself legitimate. The Deep Forge would be dangerous, potentially lethal, but it was still a chance. More than anyone had been willing to give him before today.
Seraphina caught his eye and gave a tiny nod of approval. They would talk later, plan properly, prepare as much as possible. But for now, in this moment of confusion and shock, they had achieved what they came for.
The Crown Crow position was his to lose rather than someone else's to claim.
Around them, the Crowcrest family struggled to adjust to their new reality, voices overlapping, plans fragmenting, certainties dissolving into doubt and fear and desperate recalculation.
And at the center of it all stood Ariel, no longer dying, no longer powerless, no longer dismissed.
Acknowledged.
The shock in the conference room was tangible, thick enough to taste, heavy enough to feel pressing against skin like morning fog.
Everything had changed.