A full week had passed since the griffin incident.Lucas and Romeo still lay unconscious, neither waking nor responding, their breaths shallow but stable.
During that time, rumors had already spread through half of Valmora.The Jerom clan was silent.Dante was silent.But the Imperial Council demanded answers.
The capital city, Lumiere, shone under the midday sun. Its colossal spires and floating crystal rings made it truly deserving of its pillar name: innovation. From every direction, ley-lines glimmered across the sky like silver threads weaving through the heart of Valmora.
At the center of this magnificent city stood the Imperial Council Hall, a monumental circular building carved from white stone and reinforced with ancient runes. Inside, the air was cold, quiet, and heavy.
The round council chamber contained a circular table with six ornate seats—each carved with the emblem of its clan—and a seventh seat, larger, higher, almost like a throne… but for now, empty.
One by one the clan chiefs had arrived:
Joseph Kaiser, calm and sharp-eyed.
Lana Roven, elegant but fearsome.
George Alverd, broad-shouldered, analytical.
Zack Damion, the youngest, barely past his twenties but brilliant.
Frida Arest, silent and unreadable.
And Dante Jerom, standing rather than sitting, his palms resting on the table, jaw tight with worry.
All of them waited.
Finally Dante began.
"Good morning, everyone," he said, though his voice carried none of the warmth the words implied. "I believe you've all read my report—and heard what happened to my sons."
Joseph Kaiser leaned forward, interrupting. "If I may, Dante… in your report, you stated that your youngest son noticed Romeo's team sneaking out, and followed them purely out of curiosity, correct?"
"Yes," Dante answered. "My niece Sarah confirmed it. Her brother ,my nephew ,Mike apparently convinced them to break into a higher-ranked beast's territory. They found a griffin—C-rank—and my eldest barely survived. The creature's attack cost Romeo an eye."
Lana Roven exhaled softly. "That child… Lucas. They said he ran toward the griffin in rage, and the next moment he was standing with the beast's head in his hands. Is that true?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Dante replied. "But the method, the sudden movement, the cuts—it doesn't match anything he should be capable of. He's six. He hasn't even unlocked his first spell."
A murmur spread across the table.
Zack Damion tapped a finger on the wood. "Could it be some kind of instant teleportation?"
George Alverd countered, "No, the wounds were too clean. Maybe extreme speed? A burst of instinctual Luma?"
Dante shook his head. "Even prodigies don't use magic before seven. And Lucas… he's never shown anything like this."
More theories bounced around the chamber—luma overload, spirit possession, forbidden artifacts, awakening trauma—but none made sense.
Then—
A deep voice. Calm. Echoing.
"Or," it said, "he could have manipulated time."
Silence swallowed the room.
Seven figures appeared at the entrance as if the shadows themselves had opened. The first was a tall man with closed eyes, hair between icy blue and white, wearing layered fur over grey armor. He stepped forward without sound, though every step shifted the pressure of the chamber.
Behind him walked six others—each powerful enough to change the air simply by breathing.
Dante immediately lowered his head. "You're slightly late… Victor."
The other chiefs stood and bowed in silence.
Victor walked toward the seventh seat—the throne-like one—and took it without speaking, his presence alone enough to silence every whisper in the hall.
Behind him, the six followed:
Ragnar, sin of wrath, hands in his pockets, gaze sharp like a predator scanning prey.
Lumina, sin of lust, expression unreadable, aura unsettlingly calm.
Charles, sin of sloth, his half-opened eyes looking like he hadn't woken up in years.
Sam, sin of pride, composed, confident, almost too perfect.
Nelliel, sin of envy , whose eyes alone could cut stone.
Kira, sin of gluttony, smiling faintly yet somehow looking hungry.
But none of them took seats.They simply stood behind Victor, watching.
Victor's eyes opened just a sliver—cold silver.
"Dante," he said quietly, "explain the part you chose not to include in your report."
Every chief stiffened.
Because they all sensed the same thing—
Victor already knew something Dante did not write.
Dante inhaled slowly, steadying himself.
Then he said the words that would change the council forever:
"…Lucas's eyes. They turned gold."
A heavy stillness.
Victor leaned forward slightly.
"Gold…?" he repeated. "Then the Wall will not hold much longer."
Even the chiefs inhaled sharply.
Because that one sentence meant only one thing:
Lucas Jerom had awakened as a Fang.And a Fang always appears when a great tragedy is near.