My father was the first to snap out of his stupor, his gaze serious as he looked at me. Soon, everyone else followed suit, their eyes fixed upon me with a similar intensity.
"Why this sudden urge to get married?" my father questioned, his voice laced with concern.
I took a moment to compose myself before responding, "Ah, Father, the winds of love and destiny are blowing fiercely in my direction. It is my noble duty to ensure the perpetuation of our illustrious bloodline before embarking on my heroic journey to conquer tier 5 and seek the hallowed trial ground."
Their expressions seemed poised to scold me, but as I explained my reasoning with theatrical flair, their stern looks softened. After all, how could they deny the allure of my exceptional genes? I was the prodigious cultivator, excelling in both the arts of mage and warrior, a rare phenomenon that had graced our noble lineage.
My father raised an eyebrow, his skepticism melting into mild intrigue. "But should not your brother Jack, as the crown prince and the eldest, take precedence in the marital affairs of the Dragonheart dynasty?"
I waved a dismissive hand, my tone dripping with confidence. "Oh, dear father, fear not. Our beloved Jack has his hands full with matters of state, burdened by the weight of the crown. As for Luke, well, he is lost in a labyrinth of magical wonders. Thus, it falls upon my broad shoulders to bear the glorious responsibility of securing the future of our bloodline."
Contemplation flickered across their faces, and after a dramatic pause, my father finally spoke, granting his reluctant permission. "Very well, my audacious prince. I shall bestow upon you my blessing for this audacious endeavor."
My mother, unable to suppress a mischievous smile, chimed in, "Tell me, my charming son, have you already set your sights on a potential mate?"
I chuckled, twirling an imaginary mustache. "Not yet, dear mother. I must tread carefully through the treacherous realms of love, seeking a paragon of beauty, wit, and, of course, an unrivaled tolerance for my antics."
My brother, unable to resist a jest, interjected with a sly grin, "Good luck finding someone who can handle your boundless charm, dear Maxwell."
I shot him a playful glare. "Ah, Luke, you underestimate the power of my charisma. I am a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind of wit and magnetism."
"The dukes may not have daughters with their wives, but perhaps you could seek someone with great talent from the mage and warrior academies," my brother Jack suggested, his voice filled with genuine interest.
I nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of his suggestion. It was indeed a great idea.
The system, responsible for selecting my wife, had already made its criteria clear. The prospective candidate must score above 40 based on the following classification:
Appearance - 10 marks
Charm - 10 marks
Intelligence - 10 marks
Talent - 30 marks
Bloodline - 40 marks
It was a rigorous assessment, ensuring that the chosen partner possessed the qualities necessary to complement my own.