The Grand Banquet Hall of Sylvaine Citadel had never felt so alive with tension.
Hundreds of floating mana-lamps cast shifting sapphire and gold light across vaulted ceilings painted with scenes of ancient eagle riders battling void incursions. Long tables groaned under platters of spirit-roasted phoenix quail, lightning-infused crystal fruits that crackled when bitten, and wines distilled from thousand-year storm grapes. Musicians played on instruments strung with dragon sinew; the notes carried faint aura vibrations that soothed the mind while sharpening battle sense.
Yet beneath the opulence, every noble present felt the shift.
Elaric entered last.
He wore the formal heir regalia upgraded by the family artisans overnight: midnight-blue robes embroidered with living silver threads that moved like storm clouds, a thin coronet of condensed lightning sitting lightly on his brow, and a cloak of woven wind-silk that billowed without breeze. Zephyr perched on his left shoulder, now the size of a hunting hawk, silver feathers occasionally sparking with miniature thunder. The chick's golden eyes swept the room with predatory intelligence.
As Elaric stepped onto the raised dais, the entire hall fell silent.
Duke Reginald rose from the high seat.
"Tonight we celebrate not merely a birthday, but the full awakening of our bloodline's divine potential. My son, Elaric Sylvaine, has proven himself heir in the truest sense. Let the feast begin—and let any who doubt our house's strength look upon him now."
Applause thundered—some genuine, some polite, some edged with calculation.
Elaric inclined his head, then spoke. His voice carried naturally, laced with the barest trace of spiritual pressure.
"Honored guests, allies, and… friends." The pause before friends was deliberate; Viscount Vesper's wine glass paused halfway to his lips. "Tonight I offer a small demonstration. Not of arrogance, but of gratitude. House Sylvaine has always protected the northern marches. With the beast tide approaching in three months, it seems only right to show what kind of shield we can provide."
He raised his right hand.
No chant. No visible preparation.
A pinpoint of wind gathered above his palm—then exploded outward in a perfect sphere ten meters across.
Inside the sphere: controlled chaos.
Miniature storm clouds swirled. Lightning arced in fractal patterns. Rain fell upward, defying gravity, before evaporating into mist that carried the sharp scent of ozone. At the center hovered a perfect illusion of the northern pass—scaled down, yet so detailed that every watchtower, every patrol route, every weak point in the current defensive array was visible.
Gasps rose.
The Frostveil envoy leaned forward. "That… that is a Master Mage domain projection. At ten years old?"
Elaric's voice cut through the murmurs.
"This is merely a shadow of what will stand at the pass when the tide breaks. Any house that sends troops, resources, or formations will find their banners flying under this storm."
He clenched his fist.
The sphere collapsed inward with a thunderclap that rattled goblets but harmed no one. Lightning resolved into a single, razor-thin blade of pure plasma that hovered above the central table—then sliced downward.
A roast phoenix quail split cleanly in half. The cut was so perfect that for three heartbeats the two halves remained standing before gravity noticed and they fell apart.
Silence.
Then Viscount Vesper laughed—too loud, too forced.
"Impressive theatrics, young master. But words and illusions win no wars. House Vesper has already committed three thousand elite shadow-knights to the northern front. We need no further… demonstrations."
Elaric met the man's eyes.
Storm Sovereign's Gaze activated silently.
Layers peeled away: the Viscount's surface thoughts (arrogance masking fear), the hidden communication talisman vibrating against his wrist (reporting live to the Vesper patriarch), and—deepest of all—the compulsion seal pulsing inside Lira Vesper's sea of consciousness like a yellow-black tumor.
Elaric smiled.
"Three thousand is generous. We accept with thanks." He turned his gaze to Lira. "And Lady Lira—your presence honors us. I noticed earlier your ki fluctuates strangely. Perhaps the journey fatigued you?"
Lira stiffened. Her father shot her a warning glance.
"I am well, young master," she answered, voice steady but thin.
Elaric inclined his head. "Then allow me to offer a small gift. A Stabilizing Spirit Pill—our house's own recipe. It soothes qi deviations."
He flicked his wrist.
A jade bottle appeared in his palm—procured from Inventory in a blink. Inside: not an ordinary pill, but one the System had auto-refined during the afternoon seclusion. The pill contained trace ki-disrupting intent specifically tuned to shatter foreign compulsion seals without killing the host.
He tossed it lightly.
Lira caught it on reflex.
The moment her fingers touched the bottle—
DING!
Hidden Objective Progress: Compulsion seal destabilization initiated.
Estimated time to full removal: 7 minutes (passive circulation required).
Elaric turned back to the hall as though nothing had happened.
"Now—let the feast continue."
The musicians struck up again. Servants flowed with fresh platters. Conversation resumed in waves—some houses already whispering offers of marriage alliances, exclusive trade routes, even branch-family adoption pacts.
But Elaric's attention never left Lira.
She sat rigid, eyes slowly widening as the pill's energy seeped into her meridians. The yellow-black seal writhed like a living thing, cracking at the edges. Sweat beaded on her brow.
Her father noticed. Leaned close. Whispered urgently.
Elaric sipped his wine—infused with enough thunderheart essence to make mortal tongues numb—and waited.
Six minutes later: the seal shattered.
Lira gasped, hand flying to her temple. Memories—repressed, altered, implanted—flooded back in a rush. The night on the wall. The palm strike. The blackout. The false report she'd delivered under compulsion.
Her eyes locked on Elaric.
Terror. Then confusion. Then—something dangerously close to awe.
Viscount Vesper surged to his feet.
"Young master Elaric," he said, voice tight, "my daughter appears unwell. We must excuse ourselves—"
Elaric stood as well.
"Be seated, Viscount."
The words carried Palace Knight aura pressure—soft, but absolute.
The man froze mid-step.
Elaric crossed the dais in four steps. Zephyr launched from his shoulder, circled once, and landed on the table directly in front of Lira—talons clicking on crystal, eyes glowing.
"Lady Lira," Elaric said quietly, so only the immediate table could hear, "you were used as a tool tonight. A compulsion seal—Vesper-house make, I presume—was placed in your consciousness after your… scouting mission failed."
Gasps from nearby tables.
Viscount Vesper's face drained of color.
"That is a grave accusation—"
Elaric raised a hand. Lightning danced between his fingers.
"I have no need to accuse falsely. The seal is gone. Her memories are returning. And she will confirm what I say."
Lira looked between her father and Elaric. Tears welled.
"Father… you promised no more seals after the last mission. You said I was trusted…"
The Viscount's composure shattered.
"This is a misunderstanding! A protective measure—"
Elaric cut him off.
"Viscount Harlan Vesper. You will remain as our guest until dawn. Your daughter will remain under Sylvaine protection until the seal's origin is fully investigated. Any attempt to leave before then will be considered an act of war."
He turned to the hall.
"Let this be clear: House Sylvaine does not seek needless enemies. But we do not tolerate tools turned against our own walls—or our guests used as puppets."
Silence.
Then the Frostveil envoy stood.
"House Frostveil offers formal alliance. Five thousand frost knights and three master array mages to the northern pass. In return—we ask only that young master Elaric consider a future visit to our ice citadel."
One by one, other houses followed.
Starweave pledged aerial support formations. Ironbloom sent master smiths to reinforce the pass gates.
Vesper remained isolated.
Elaric returned to his seat.
DING!
Urgent Quest "First Public Display of Dominance" Completed!
Rewards Claimed:
• Legendary Companion Egg ×1 (incubating – variant unknown)
• System Points +5,000 → Total: 7,280
• New Function Unlocked: "Faction Management Interface" → Track allied houses, tribute flow, contribution points, betrayal risk %, diplomatic favor meter
Hidden Objective Completed: Neutralize compulsion seal without alert
Rewards:
• Shadow Sovereign Title Fragment ×1 (collect 5 to form complete title)
• Memory Edit Upgrade → Now permanent & undetectable even to Saint-realm soul sense
Elaric opened the new interface mentally.
Faction Overview (Initial):
• House Sylvaine: Core (100%)
• House Frostveil: Favor +45 (Alliance offered)
• House Vesper: Favor -72 (Hostile intent detected – betrayal risk 81%)
He assigned Lira a personal guard—two trusted Peak Foundation female cultivators—and had her escorted to guest quarters for "recovery."
As the feast wound down, Duke Reginald leaned close.
"You played that masterfully, son. But you've made an enemy of Vesper tonight."
Elaric met his father's eyes.
"Good. Better an open enemy than a smiling knife in the dark."
Later, alone in his chambers, he examined the Legendary Companion Egg.
Jet-black shell threaded with crimson veins. When he placed a drop of blood on it, the shell pulsed.
Incubation Estimate: 48 hours
Projected Variant: Bloodshadow Kirin (Mythic potential)
Zephyr trilled approval, nuzzling the egg.
Elaric sat cross-legged and opened the Eternal Sovereign Scripture – Chapter 1.
The first line burned into his mind:
"All paths converge in the sovereign's heart. To master one is limitation. To master all is dominion."
He began comprehending.
Comprehension Speed: +30% (permanent)
Current progress: 0.4% → rising rapidly
Outside, the citadel slept under a storm-heavy sky.
Three months until the beast tide.
Two days until a new companion hatched.
And one certainty burned brighter than any lightning:
The Sovereign had shown his claws.
The continent would never be the same.
End of Chapter 4.