Valdis woke to silence.
For a brief moment, he remained motionless beneath the dark silk covers, red eyes staring at the high, shadowed ceiling of his bedchamber as if expecting the sky to split open once more.
It did not.
Slowly, he sat up.
The first thing he did was check his body.
His hands moved deliberately—over his arms, across his chest, down to his legs. No pain. No lingering numbness. His skin was smooth, unmarred, the scales that had emerged during the tribulation now hidden completely beneath the surface.
"I'm… fine."
That realization came with a wave of relief. After such an ordeal, he truly thought that would be the end; even if he survived, he would be heavily injured.
But it seemed he was fine; his body was intact. No, not just intact— it felt better than ever.
When he clenched his fist, strength responded without delay—solid, obedient, restrained.
That's when he felt it—an unfamiliar density beneath his flesh. His bones were heavier, sturdier, as if forged in a master's furnace. His veins pulsed with restrained heat, blood flowing with a force that promised destruction if unleashed.
He closed his eyes, trying to sense his surroundings, and then he noticed:
His senses had sharpened. He could easily spot the outlines of every decoration. His nose felt a little more sensitive than usual; his ears remained the same.
His body felt so full of energy, as if he could run a marathon without breaking a sweat.
"So this is the power awakening your bloodline grants," Valdis said silently.
As his mind drifted back to his awakening, the memory of the lightning tribulation resurfaced.
He remembered the moment Heaven turned its gaze upon him—the oppressive feeling that accompanied it.
He remembered his blood boiling underneath that pressure, surging violently through his body like molten metal.
How every heartbeat had filled him with power beyond his imagination.
And then there were the flames.
Blue flames had bloomed from his body during the tribulation—cold, refined, and terrifyingly pure.
It had not burned like ordinary fire; it had refined. Tempered. As if his body itself had been thrown into a divine furnace.
The new power, which felt deep and ancient, rising from within him, stirred the two bloodlines in his body awake. Before those bloodlines could tear him apart, the flames subdued both, refined them, and fused them into the outcome of that refinement.
His thoughts returned to the second bloodline. He understood the existence of the vampiric bloodline within him, but the second remained a mystery.
This bloodline carried a beastly presence, and its aura was so overwhelming that the vampiric bloodline felt powerless. It was so regal that it felt like standing in the presence of the king—the king of beasts.
That's when it dawned on him—the heavens had not punished him for awakening; they had punished him because of the power he awakened.
That flame had initially awakened, but it hid as if it didn't want to be discovered. It only appeared when his body was on the verge of destruction.
When it appeared, both bloodlines became docile and afraid— even the unknown beast bloodline seeking to dominate his body. The flame emerged and merged both bloodlines into a single drop of blood, which fused with him and triggered heaven's wrath.
That flame had created a power that shouldn't exist—a bloodline that didn't fit within heaven's order. So, heaven appeared to destroy it.
Valdis sighed, but when he remembered the boost he had gained from that drop of blood, a wild grin spread across his face.
As he was still lost in thought, a knock broke the silence.
Valdis looked toward the door and said,
"Enter."
The door opened just enough for a maid to slip inside. She immediately bowed her head, though her eyes flicked up for a split second, lingering before she remembered herself.
"Young Master," she said respectfully, "the Duke requests your presence in his study."
Valdis nodded. "I'll be there shortly."
After she left, he rose and headed to the bath. Warm water poured over his body, steam curling through the chamber as he washed away the lingering scent of ozone and blood. His reflection stared back at him through the mist—unchanged, yet undeniably different. The red of his eyes seemed deeper somehow, more settled.
Once dressed in dark, formal attire fitting his status, Valdis left his chambers and made his way through the familiar corridors toward the duke's study.
The doors to the study looked regal—crafted from dark wood reinforced with iron, etched with subtle runes of silence that prevented sound from escaping. He knocked once.
"Enter," came his father's steady, composed voice.
Valdis pushed the door open.
The study was as imposing as ever. Tall shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and sealed records, their spines marked with gold and crimson sigils. A wide desk of blackwood dominated the room's center, its surface meticulously organized. Soft enchanted lamp light bathed the space in a subdued glow, lending the room an air of solemn authority.
But Valdis barely had time to take it all in.
His gaze immediately fell upon the figures inside.
His father stood behind the desk, hands resting on its surface, expression unreadable. His brother and sister sat nearby, their postures stiff, eyes fixed on him with concern and curiosity.
And then there was his mother.
She sat slightly apart. Her usually immaculate appearance was undone. Strands of her pale hair had slipped loose, and her eyes shadowed with worry and exhaustion.
When she looked at Valdis, relief flashed across her face—quick, fragile—before she rose abruptly and crossed the room.
Valdis straightened instinctively.
Something had changed.
And judging by the weight in the room…
Everyone knew it.
But it seemed his mother couldn't care less at this point; all she wanted was to know if her child was all right.
When she saw the dark clouds radiating a familiar but extremely violent aura, her heart froze, yet she couldn't move— the pressure holding her in place.
When she saw the lightning descend, her heart dropped. Each bolt looked as if it wanted to obliterate its target.
And the target… her son.
When the entire tribulation ended, she rushed to the awakening hall at full speed, uncaring of how she looked. Her love for grace and decorum flew out the window—nothing was more important than her children.
When she arrived, she was barred entry—not by a person, since no one in the Ebonhart estate would dare stop Duchess Elanor when she was in such a frenzy.
What stopped her were the ancient runes blocking entry to anyone not of Ebonhart lineage. All she could do was slam her fists against the barrier in frustration.
It's important to note that Elanor didn't marry Draven as a trophy wife or for political gain. She married him because she loved him and became the Duchess of House Ebonhart, a symbol of awe, respect, and fear—not relying on Draven's influence but on her own power.
Before marrying Draven, she was known across Blackspire as—The witch of doom.
She terrorized battlefields before her marriage, then disappeared from public life and settled into her role as the Duchess of House Ebonhart.
"Little brother, I know your a top-tier talent, but isn't reaching the peak of the body refinement realm a little too monstrous?" Malrik said.
It was at that moment that Elanor snapped out of her thoughts. As she critically examined her son, she noticed the drastic improvement.
Isolde's eyes widened with shock—half a year had passed since she reached the peak of the body refinement realm, earning her the title of top prodigy. It took her that long to get there, yet her monster of a brother had achieved it in barely two months, and now she was witnessing him complete the same after just his awakening.
If she wasn't seeing it herself, she wouldn't believe it.
At that moment, Draven spoke.
"You all should calm down. We're here to discuss this matter and other related issues. So sit down and talk it through," he said.