[Grand Hall]
The tension in the grand hall was suffocating. Blood dripped from Verion's blade, pooling beneath the lifeless bodies of guards scattered across the marble floor. From his elevated throne, Graviel observed the scene in silence, his sharp, calculating eyes taking in every detail.
For a Martial Deity who had seen centuries of conflict, few things were capable of shocking him. Yet the events that had unfolded today were beyond anything he could have anticipated.
Children this young wielding such overwhelming power? Graviel's thoughts stirred as he studied the aftermath. Elion and Verion stood amidst the slaughter, their bodies still radiating energy that defied explanation.
Even Graviel himself, hailed as the greatest genius in Murim's history—a man who had defeated adults as a child—could not fathom the sheer brutality these three-year-olds had displayed.
When Rendall reported yesterday that Verion's strength was nearing that of a Martial Expert, Graviel had dismissed it as an exaggeration. But now, seeing the guards—trained warriors of the same level—lying dead at Verion's feet, Graviel could only come to one conclusion.
This is no genius, Graviel thought. This is a monster. And monsters don't simply appear. There must be something more behind this power.
His gaze shifted to Elion, who stood silently amidst the chaos. The boy's golden eyes burned with a calm intensity, and the strange, otherworldly energy radiating from him was unlike anything Graviel had encountered before.
And that boy… What is he?
As if sensing Graviel's scrutiny, Elion slowly turned his head, meeting Graviel's gaze with an unflinching glare.
Crazy old man, Elion thought, irritated. Even after losing so many of his men, he just sits there watching.
For a brief moment, the hall felt frozen in time as the two locked eyes, the weight of unspoken thoughts thickening the air between them.
The moment was shattered as the elders of the Vossmer family began to rise from their seats. Their faces were masks of fury and disbelief, their pride wounded by the sight of the guards' massacre. These were no ordinary elders—they were Martial Sages, the very foundation of the Vossmer family's strength. Each of them possessed the power to level entire cities, their Qi mastery unrivaled by most.
From among them, one elder stepped forward. His long silver hair fell over his dark robes, the embroidered dragons on his chest glinting under the flickering light of the hall.
This was Cedrin Vossmer, one of the most feared Martial Sages of the family. A faint blue aura rippled around him, radiating cold, suffocating energy. Frost spread beneath his feet as the temperature in the hall dropped sharply.
"How despicable," Cedrin began, his smooth voice laced with malice. "To think you've been hiding the first young master's child all this time." His piercing eyes narrowed at Elara. "Keeping such a secret from the Vossmer family is a crime punishable by death."
Elara stepped forward, her body shielding her sons as her piercing gaze locked onto Cedrin. Her hands, hidden beneath her dress, remained steady despite the overwhelming aura of the Martial Sage.
"Punishable by death?" she repeated, her tone cold. "After this family refused to acknowledge my relationship with Young Master Kaelric and forced me to leave, I owe the Vossmer family nothing. And you have no claim over my children."
Her eyes sharpened as her grip on her hidden daggers tightened. "Besides…" she continued, her voice like ice, "do you even have the strength to carry out such a punishment?"
Her defiance sent a ripple of shock through the hall. The remaining elders exchanged uneasy glances, their anger momentarily giving way to disbelief.
"A Martial Sage against her?" One of them muttered. "She's mad."
Cedrin's expression darkened, his pride stung. The blue aura surrounding him intensified, frost spreading further across the floor as the air grew colder.
"Bold words, Elara," he sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Let's see how long you can keep them."
With a wave of his hand, Cedrin summoned his weapon: a long, silver halberd that shimmered with frost. The air around it crackled and hissed as he twirled it, the weapon's icy aura leaving trails of frost in its wake.
In the blink of an eye, he moved, his halberd slicing through the air in a sharp arc aimed at Elara.
For a moment, the strike seemed unavoidable—a perfect combination of speed, precision, and power honed over decades of mastery.
But Elara was faster.
She sidestepped the attack with fluid grace, her dress fluttering as she leapt back. Black daggers flashed in her hands, their faint green glow betraying the deadly poison coating their edges.
"You've forgotten, Elder Cedrin," Elara said, her voice calm yet deadly. "I wasn't just some lowly woman in this family—I was this family's greatest assassin."
Cedrin snarled, his pride refusing to accept her words. "This family's greatest assassin? Nothing but tricks and cowardice! You dare compare your pathetic skills to the strength of a Martial Sage?"
With a roar, he unleashed a flurry of strikes. His halberd moved like a whirlwind, each swing leaving icy trails in its wake. The frost spread across the floor, freezing the air itself as his attacks grew faster and more vicious.
Yet Elara slipped through his strikes with an assassin's precision, her movements swift and calculated. She darted between his blows, her daggers flashing as she countered with slashes of her own.
How is this possible? Cedrin thought, frustration mounting. How is she keeping up with me?
The frost aura surrounding him began to flicker as her poisoned blades nicked his side, the venom seeping into his bloodstream. His attacks grew sloppier as his Qi struggled to suppress the poison.
Damn this poison… Damn this woman!
Verion watched with wide eyes, his chest swelling with a mixture of pride and awe. He had always known his mother was strong, but seeing her now—deadly, graceful, and fearless—was something entirely different.
She doesn't need us to protect her, Verion thought, his fists clenching as a grin spread across his face. She's the one who's been protecting us all along.
Beside him, Elion furrowed his brows, his curiosity growing. "System," he whispered under his breath, "just how strong is she?"
Ding!
[Query recognized: Subject Elara's power level.]
[Subject: Elara. Current Level: Martial Sage. A Martial Sage represents the seventh rank within Murim's hierarchy. Martial Sages possess mastery over Qi and techniques that border on the mystical. Elara's abilities are enhanced by her specialization as an assassin, granting her unparalleled speed, agility, and lethality in close combat.]
Elion's eyes widened slightly. Mother is a Martial Sage? He thought, both shocked and impressed. No wonder she's holding her own against him.
Cedrin staggered, his frost aura flickering as the poison took hold.
"You want to know how I'm still standing, Elder Cedrin?" Elara asked, her voice calm as she closed the distance between them in a blur of movement. "Because I am a Martial Sage too."
Her declaration echoed through the hall, leaving the elders frozen in shock.
"Elara… a Martial Sage?" One of them muttered in disbelief. "Impossible."
But Elara didn't give them time to react. With a burst of speed, she unleashed her finishing move.
"Eclipsing Moonfall!"
Her daggers crossed in an X-shaped slash, cutting through Cedrin's defenses and slamming into his chest. The force of the attack sent him flying, his body crashing into the marble wall. The frost aura surrounding him shattered like glass as he slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Elara stepped forward, her daggers raised to finish Cedrin. But before she could strike, the remaining elders stood as one, their faces contorted with rage.
"How dare you lay a hand on an elder of the Vossmer family!" one of them roared, his Qi flaring. "This insult will not go unpunished!"
They began to move, their combined auras suffocating as they prepared to attack. Verion immediately stepped in front of his mother, his crimson-violet Qi crackling around him as he drew his blade. Elion moved beside him, his golden eyes glowing faintly as he activated [Levitas], ready to protect Elara at all costs.
But before the battle could begin, an overwhelming wave of Qi swept through the hall.
The sheer weight of the Qi brought everyone to their knees, crushing even the elders under its oppressive force. Verion grated his teeth, struggling to stand, while Elion's legs trembled as he tried to resist. Even Elara, a Martial Sage, was forced to kneel, her breathing labored.
At the center of the dais, Graviel stood, his expression dark and imposing. His Qi radiated from him in waves, an ocean of power that dwarfed everything else in that hall. He stepped forward, his boots clicking against the marble floor as he descended the dais.
"Enough," Graviel said, his voice calm but laced with authority. "You shame yourselves by losing control in my presence."
The elders bowed their heads, their auras extinguished under Graviel's overwhelming power. Graviel's gaze swept across the room, lingering on Cedrin's unconscious form before settling on Elara, Verion, and Elion. Despite the crushing pressure of his Qi, the three met his gaze with defiance, their eyes burning with determination.
Graviel's lips curled into a faint smile. "You're stronger than I expected," he said quietly. "But strength without control is meaningless."
He stepped closer, towering over Elara and her sons. "You have a choice," Graviel said, his voice as cold as the frost Cedrin once wielded. "Become part of the Vossmer family... or die by my hand."