Chapter 15 – Foxes in Silk
Dax's grandfather studied him with a bright, knowing smile.
"My child… the aura around you is certainly not that of the weak. Tell me—why do you need this man, when you have clearly found your own path?"
His gaze pierced deeper than flesh, deeper than mana. He saw things even the gods often overlooked.
Dax smiled back—too casually.
"As sharp as ever," he muttered aloud without realizing.
His grandfather's eyes narrowed.
Strange… this child speaks as though he knows me. But he has never met me.
He chose silence, opting to observe rather than confront.
His attention shifted to the man beside Dax—the one who introduced himself as Dax's master.
"Yes… Silas, was it? You are powerful. Unnaturally so. Yet I have never heard your name. With your strength, the world should tremble at your footsteps."
Micah(Silas) retorted folding his arms.
"It is normal for the world to not know of me. I grew up in the Plains of Vabon. Raised by Kalisi the king of wyvrens. My life has been spent far from civilization."
He spread his wings slightly, revealing golden feathers on one side and scaled wyvern hide on the other.
"I was raised by a Kalisi and a fallen angel. That is why I am what I am."
For the first time, Dax's grandfather truly faltered.
"You mean… Kalisi? The Dragon Eater?" His voice trembled with genuine shock.
"The wyvern who devoured young dragons… then matured into slaying ancient wyrms? A terrifying creature indeed."
Micah nodded stiffly.
"And the fallen angel?" the grandfather pressed. "You never mentioned its name…?"
Micro-cracks spread in Micah's expression. His aura dropped to sub-zero, a chilling silence filling the hallway.
Dax's grandfather instantly realized he had stepped on a sour spot.
He retreated his aura and said nothing more.
Micah recovered with expert smoothness—almost too smooth.
Dax, watching the two of them, nearly laughed aloud.
These two… sly foxes hiding behind polite words.
Then Micah spoke again, voice steady, but laced with a razor-thin edge.
"Oh? Aren't you the one we lost to, old man? Micah the Indomitable."
Dax's grandfather stiffened. Rage rippled through his veins.
"And," Micah continued mercilessly, "surely you recall our defeat at the hands of Mimikyu of the Beast Demon Clan…"
A loud crack echoed through the hall.
One of the grand statues lining the walls split down the middle.
Dax's grandfather was now boiling—mana, aura, and killing intent rising in equal measure.
"My Silas," he said slowly, "I believe you should keep your mouth shut. Before I slay you here—just as Khaleesi was slain."
Silence choked the air.
The walls hummed with violent power.
Dax coughed lightly, stepping between them.
"Grandfather, please. Calm yourself."
His grandfather's gaze softened barely.
He looked at Micah again, who offered a tight smile that absolutely screamed I have no intention of calming down.
Dax pinched the bridge of his nose.
Grandfather's tone turned calm too calm as he looked straight at Micah.
"You truly have been isolated from the world," he said.
"If you weren't, you would know the events you speak of happened over three thousand years ago. In the past years, I killed the Evil Dragon God and drank his blood, earning the name Godfall King for our clan."
His eyes darkened.
"So do not ever use my name to posture. You may be my grandson's master, but I will erase you in an instant if you dare use my reputation as your toy. Do you understand?"
Micah's blood ran cold.
The killing intent pouring from the old man's body was real—too real. It wrapped around his bones like a spectral hand ready to snap them.
He gulped and nodded.
"This man…" he thought, "he means every word."
Grandfather turned to Dax.
"My son. I wish to speak with you alone. Dismiss this man."
Micah vanished instantly.
A hand rested on Dax's shoulder—and the world shattered like glass.
—-
Dax blinked as a new world unfolded before him.
Lush green plains, and air so pure with mana it felt alive.
This realm… it was sacred.
"Where… are we?" Dax whispered.
His grandfather smiled.
"Oh my son, I see you have never witnessed a Spirit Island. If you grow strong enough, you will eventually form one of your own. It is the ultimate sign of a cultivator's will and soul."
Dax nodded, awe lingering in his eyes.But the old man's expression grew serious.
"Now then… Dax, you must tell me. Who are you?"
He was calm with no shift in aura or emotions.
Grandfather what do you mean? Dax fiend ignorance.
In an instant his aura exploded like a falling world.
Dax dropped to the floor—faking it perfectly. He couldn't reveal his true strength, not yet.
"G–Grandfather, give me a moment to speak!" Dax said, his voice full of urgency and fear.
"I am your grandchild… just let me talk!"
The reaction was natural. Believable.
Grandfather slowly retracted his aura.
A table manifested between them—beautiful, ancient, carved from divine wood.
Dax stood, exhaled, and slowly smiled.
"First… I need to change my clothes."
With a snap of his fingers, the bloody robe dissolved from his body. His bare chest glistened under the soft light, and a long black robe wrapped around his waist, flowing like a shadow.
"Now then, Grandfather… I believe you will recognize this."
He dropped a glowing cube onto the table.
Grandfather stared at the cube, confusion growing like fog.
He didn't touch it.
Instead, he leaned back.
"Explain yourself. You speak to me with a familiarity only someone who has known me deeply could possess. Yet… I have never even held you since your birth. I have been in isolation for cultivation for 1,500 years, attempting to break into the Odama Realm. Only recently did I succeed and awaken."
Dax froze internally.
That was accurate.
He had no memory of meeting this version of his grandfather because he was using memories from his past life—memories of a different timeline entirely.
He spoke carefully.
And his grandfather's stern face softened. He chuckled—then burst into warm, booming laughter.
"My child, calm yourself. There is something I have never told anyone—except your father."
His eyes glowed, revealing swirling rings of golden frequency.
"I see it all."
He leaned closer, his expression grave.
"I once had a vision. A double rebirth. A child born from the God Force. A child who lost everything… yet regained far more than fate intended."
Dax's breath hitched.
"Two paths presented itself to me a path where you lived which is this current timeline and the other your death.
But now that I see you I don't see destruction instead I see an abomination.
He continued softly.
"If you had died that day, the clan would have fallen with you. Chaos would have drowned us all. That is why, Dax… you are our clan's prophecy. The child born to sustain the lineage and rejuvenate the Godfall bloodline."
Dax clenched his fist, face twisting with perfectly acted rage.
"So you had a vision that my talent would be stolen… and yet you did nothing?!"
His voice shook.
"My talent was taken! And worse—my mother was kidnapped by the Blood River Clan!"
His voice cracked.
Memories surged—real ones. Painful ones.
In his past life, his mother had sacrificed everything for him.
Her end had been brutal.
He didn't like speaking of her.
Not now. Not ever.
But the emotion burned through his act, making it real.