After the ceremony, the officiator sent us to the resting hall — basically a fancy waiting room with too many chairs and not enough fresh air. We were told to "relax" until they called us for results verification.
I'd just managed to sit down when the door slammed open.
"August!"
Dad strode in, looking like he'd just fought a war with paperwork. His eyes swept me from head to toe before he finally exhaled.
"So, how did it go?"
"It went fine," I said, stretching my neck. "Got an AAA-rank Berserker as one of the options."
That wiped the calm right off his face. "You didn't take it, did you?"
"Of course not. I went with the A-rank Iron Warrior."
He let out a long breath. "Good. Berserker might sound glorious, but it's a death sentence for people who think too much."
"Then it's definitely not for me."
He gave a short nod — half approval, half relief. "Iron Warrior's solid. Reliable. A good start…" His voice trailed off. "Wait — did you just say A-rank?"
"Yeah," I said. "Is that a problem?"
"No, it's just… ordinary Warrior classes usually cap around C or D. Even with your Bloodline, it shouldn't have gone past B."
"Guess the mystic fruit worked a little too well."
"Maybe. Or maybe you just got lucky."
"Lucky? Please. My Luck stat is eight."
"What!"
"What?"
"Nothing — we'll talk about that later." He cleared his throat. "What about your Authority?"
I smirked. "Five."
That almost earned me a smile, but he hid it fast.
Just then, a servant entered and bowed. "Young Master Augustus Ironcreed — the Patriarch requests your presence in the Council Room."
Dad's expression hardened again. "Then go. Don't make him wait."
"Any advice?"
"Speak clearly. Stand straight. And whatever you do — don't try to be clever."
I sighed. "So basically, don't be myself?"
"Exactly."
He patted my shoulder once — firm, quick, and over before it got sentimental — then sent me off toward the doors.
Following the servant, I wound through a maze of marble corridors until we stopped at a set of massive double doors flanked by armored guards.
"Identify yourself," one of them barked, voice echoing off the stone walls.
Can't they ever talk normally? It's like they're competing to see who can rupture my eardrums first. Whatever.
"Augustus Ironcreed, son of High Elder Oliver Ironcreed, Second Branch."
The guard studied me for a moment, then nodded and stepped aside. The doors opened with a heavy groan.
Inside, a towering white pillar dominated the room, surrounded by a circular table where the elders sat — their stern faces half-bathed in the glow of crystal lamps. Don't they ever get tired of maintaining that all-powerful facade? Must be exhausting pretending to breathe authority all day.
And above them, seated like a king among hawks, was a young man whose mere presence made the air tighten — Sir Drust Ironcreed, the Musician of Death, current head of the family. Behind him stood the Second Young Lady, silent and unreadable. Now this guy was actually scary.
Still, I straightened, fist to chest, and gave the formal salute. "Augustus Ironcreed greets the patriarch and the honored council elders," I said, following protocol.
Drust's eyes flicked toward me. "Hmm… you may relax."
The tension drained from my shoulders before I even realized it. His presence alone could command my body before my brain caught up. That was... unsettling.
"Place your hand on the pillar," one of the elders said.
I stepped forward and obeyed. The surface was cool and thrummed faintly, like it was alive. A shimmering screen blinked into existence above it, displaying rows of glowing text.
---
NAME: Augustus Ironcreed (August)
LEVEL: 0
CLASS: Iron Warrior, A
SYSTEM STATUS: //
STATS:
Authority: 5
STR: 21
AGI: 15
INT: 30
Charm: 30
Luck: 8
World Credit: 0
CLASS SKILLS:
Iron Guard, A
Blade Mastery, D
SYSTEM SKILLS:
Higher Appraisal, SS
Survival Instinct, A
ACQUIRED SKILLS:
Martial Arts, C
Pain Tolerance, D
Cold Resistance, D
Shock Resistance, E
Poison Resistance, E
Fire Resistance, F
BLOODLINE:
Iron Stallion, A (100% Purity)(Unawakened)
ELEMENTAL AFFINITY: Metal
EQUIPMENT (0/5): //
---
My forbidden skill and edict didn't show. Looks like Soul Obscurity really is no joke.
"An A-rank class with five Authority — not bad," one elder remarked.
"He also has a 100% pure Bloodline and an SS-rank appraisal skill. That's not just 'not bad,' that's exceptional. He could be an elite heir," another said.
"His Luck is only eight," grumbled the elder beside the Patriarch. "What's the point of excellent skills if he doesn't have the luck to survive?"
"He's got Survival Instinct," the previous elder countered. "If he trains properly, he'll live long enough to raise that stat."
"Then let's make him a normal heir for now," said the Patriarch, his tone final. "We'll elevate him to elite heir once his Luck reaches at least fifteen or he enters Stage One before the age of twenty. Acceptable?"
The others murmured their agreement.
As they debated my fate like stock traders setting prices, I stood quietly, pretending not to exist. Normal heir, elite heir, low luck stat — they tossed words around like they weren't about me.
I barely had time to process it before someone stamped my future in place.
"Augustus Ironcreed," one of the Great Elders who had been silent till now intoned, "you are thus recognized as a First-Class Heir of the House of Ironcreed. Achieve the conditions within the given time and you will rise to Elite rank. Do you accept?"
"I accept," I replied. Honestly, I'd been hoping for Second or Third-Class. But this is great.
"Now," said the Third Elder, "let us discuss your designation and duties."
The room settled into silence, thick as iron fog. The Patriarch folded his hands on the table and said, "Now then, Augustus Ironcreed, your status as First-Class Heir must be accompanied by an appropriate duty. The House does not raise idle prodigies."
Translation: get a job, kid.
One of the elders leaned forward. "Given your evaluation, you qualify for two initial paths."
He raised two fingers, slow and deliberate, as if revealing secrets from the heavens themselves.
"The first — combat division. You would be placed under an established team of field operatives responsible for dungeon sweeps, beast suppression, and border patrols. You'll train, fight, bleed, and grow alongside your peers."
I nodded slowly. "Sounds… painful."
"The second," said another elder, "is the administrative route. Desk work, logistics, and internal affairs. Your 'Higher Appraisal' skill would make you invaluable for resource assessment, contract verification, and identifying forgeries. It is safer, steadier, and far less glorious."
So basically: fight monsters or count paperwork.
Before I could pick the lesser evil, a calm, melodic voice cut through the hall.
"I believe he should join my division."
Heads turned instantly. The Second Young Lady stepped forward from behind the Patriarch's chair. Her presence didn't roar like his — it whispered. Cool, sharp, deliberate. The kind of person who could end an argument without raising her voice.
"Your division?" one of the elders asked, blinking. "But you just awakened, same as him."
"Yes," she said, her tone leaving no room for debate. "And as an Inheritor Candidate, I have the right to form my own team."
Her eyes met mine — clear, silver-gray, unreadable. "Of course, only if he accepts."
Oh, she definitely meant that as a test.
I tilted my head, letting a faint grin slip. "May I ask a question before I answer?"
"You may," she said.
"Can I appraise you first?"
The hall froze. For one perfect, deadly second, nobody breathed.
One elder actually coughed up air like he'd swallowed his own soul. My father's expression — if he'd been here — would've been pure cardiac arrest.
The Patriarch's lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he didn't intervene.
The Second Young Lady's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Appraise me?"
I shrugged. "You said you wanted to form a team. That means you're going to lead that team. I just wanna know if I can trust you with my life."
For the briefest moment, something dangerous — amusement, maybe — flickered in her gaze. Then she stepped closer, close enough that the air between us buzzed.
"Very well, Augustus Ironcreed," she said softly. "If you want to test my qualifications, then you are welcome to."
Huh. That was easier than I thought.
I activated Higher Appraisal. Runes shimmered across my vision like molten threads. The system pulsed — then faltered. Static filled my mind as a screen of text appeared before me. Normally, using skills inside family grounds was prohibited, but since neither the Patriarch nor the Elders objected… I figured it was fine.
---
NAME: Lenna Ironcreed
LEVEL: 0
CLASS: Sword Maiden, SS
SYSTEM STATUS: //
STATS:
Authority - 5
STR: 28
AGI: 36
INT: 25
Charm: 32
Luck: 14
World Credit: 0
CLASS SKILLS:
Will of the Maiden, SSS
Graceful Slashes, S
Maiden's Parry, A
Sword Mastery, C
SYSTEM SKILLS:
Temporary Invulnerability, SSS (1/month)
Wind Blade, A
Keen Insight, B
Voice of Encouragement, C
ACQUIRED SKILLS:
Dancing, B
Poison Resistance, B
Martial Arts, D
Pain Tolerance, D
Cold Resistance, D
Shock Resistance, E
Heat Resistance, F
ELEMENTAL AFFINITY: Metal, Wind
---
Holy shit. What the hell is she, a protagonist or something?
Her lips curved slightly — the faintest, most infuriating hint of a smirk. "Still want to reconsider your answer?"
I rubbed the side of my head, suppressing a grin. "Nope. I'm definitely joining your team."
The elders murmured among themselves — some in disapproval, others in disbelief. But the Patriarch just chuckled — low and brief.
"Then it's settled," he said. "Augustus Ironcreed, you will serve under the command of Lady Lenna Ironcreed as part of her newly formed team. Report tomorrow morning, both of you."
"Understood," I said, bowing slightly.
As I turned to leave, I caught Lenna's gaze again. There was no warmth in it — only a spark that said you've just stepped into the lion's den, and you did it willingly.
Her gaze followed me as I left — cold, calculating, and just a little curious. Whatever game she was playing, I'd just agreed to join.
Well, fine. Lions bite, but I bite back.