Nocth's POV
The night sky draped itself over the land like velvet soaked in ink. Stars shimmered distantly, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the chaos unfolding below. I stood beside Relin atop a graded astral-arm craft shaped like a celestial-winged serpent, silent yet blazing with elegant power as it pierced through barrier after barrier without even a flicker of resistance.
Below us, the mighty stronghold of House Mhaerun lay sprawled, guarded by invisible formations and rooted in centuries of unbroken nobility. Yet in moments, we were hovering above its very airspace.
"Watch closely, Nocth," Relin murmured, his voice calm as still water. "This is what you must one day command—spiritual energy, bent by your will, shaped by your vein affinity."
Suddenly, the night howled.
A barrage of mercurial arrow-like astral arms erupted from the perimeter towers. They shimmered silver, their tips screaming through air, each one an object of lethal craftsmanship.
Relin raised his palm.
Everything halted. The sky froze.
Every last spike stood midair—like time had paused under his command. Then, gently, Relin turned his wrist. The arrows wheeled around... and launched back.
They crashed into the towers from which they came, collapsing watch-posts into rubble and flame. Cries echoed across the sprawling Mhaerun estate. Bells of alarm rang like maddened ghosts.
House Mhaerun had awakened.
Relin landed softly like falling feather on a stone courtyard now surrounded by elite warriors. They came fast—armed with machetes, chain-knuckles, spirit knives. But Relin didn't move. I felt it in my bones: this was no ordinary skirmish. This was a demonstration.
Then came the real threat—Celestial Spark warriors, in tight battle formations. Their silverish spiritual energy linked into massive cannon revolvers—whirling constructs of semi-transparent light that emitted a ball of humming silveish energy the size of a house.
It launched.
Relin raised his palm again.
Silence.
The ball stilled mid-flight—and reversed.
The cannon revolver exploded, engulfing its own formation in vapor and blood mist. Dozens of warriors perished instantly. Screams echoed as the air stank of burning mercury and torn bone.
Panic. Terror. Rage.
Crowds surged from the outer halls. Nobles, guards, citizens in graded armor—battle suits of tier 8 and 7—encircled Relin. Some trembled. Others barked threats. All radiated hostility.
Still, Relin stood—hands behind his back. A lone figure before a storm.
Two powerful elders emerged—Lady Khari, wide-bellied and sharp-tongued, veined in arrogance, and Elder Morthos, his trembling hands betraying a mind braving its own fear. Their auras shimmered with refined mercury essence—whispers of elemental power dancing around them in silveish arcs, humming with barely-contained force.
"Who dares disturb the noble blood of House Mhaerun?!" Lady Khari roared.
"Identify yourself!" Morthos demanded, though his voice cracked like glass.
Relin smiled faintly and lifted his chin. "Come. Both of you. Attack me."
"You… buffoon!" Lady Khari hissed. "You lack even the courtesy due to nobility!"
With veins glowing, their aura erupted—mercurial veins shimmering, forming tendrils and metallic energy spears. Lady Khari's mercury surged in molten form, her technique turning her arms into war hammers. Morthos manipulated his mercury into thousands of string-thin whips slashing toward Relin.
Boom—!!
A pillar of energy exploded where Relin stood.
But when the dust cleared… he was still there.
Untouched.
Lady Khari's face twisted. "Impossible!"
Morthos staggered. "You… are you a Level 3?!"
No reply.
Relin vanished—no veins activated, no aura flared. Just a blur. And then—
Crash! Smash! Snap!
Lady Khari fell, bones broken, her face caved in.
Morthos screamed, hurled through stone and pillar until he too collapsed, unmoving.
Then came the thunder of mercury vapor.
The very air twisted.
Lord Enma stepped onto the field, his entrance turning space thick, almost gaseous. A choking pressure descended, like the air itself was mourning.
A protective astral arms barrier encased the terrified Mhaerun members behind him.
Lord Enma's eyes narrowed. "You dare bring war to my gates?"
But with a single punch, Relin shattered the attack—and the barrier.
Lord Enma froze. Power deserted his limbs. Pride fled his voice.
He bowed. He actually bowed.
"…Forgive… my house's mistake."
Relin turned toward me.
I floated down—his power holding me, cradling me gently.
Then he faced Enma again, and in a voice colder than the void:
"Apologize to him."
"To the boy."
Gasps. Some wept. Others cursed.
Lord Enma visibly twitched. His face darkened. Veins bulged. I could feel it—his shame, his fury, his pride breaking apart.
Then he leaned close to Relin and whispered something. A bribe—crystals of earth top-grade and low heaven-tier. Rare. Priceless.
Relin didn't even blink.
Instead, his pupils shifted.
A strange pattern swirled in his eyes—and the next moment, Lord Enma knelt before me, bowed low, and uttered words no one thought possible:
"I was… wrong. Please… forgive my house."
Murmurs turned into hysteria.
A noble child near the courtyard cried, "Change his name to Lord Bootlicker!"
Even elders hid smirks behind their hands.
Lord Enma awoke from his trance moments later—and paled in horror.
I stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"…Apology accepted."
He trembled.
Relin took my hand, and the two of us rose into the air, boarding the astral craft once more. It shimmered against the night and vanished like a dream into the stars.
My heart still thundered.
Not from fear.
But from the realization—what path had I begun to walk?
---
Scene Change — House Mhaerun
They stared at Enma.
Some in rage. Some in grief.
A few whispered, "He isn't worthy."
Others muttered, "He saved us."
Enma finally broke the silence. His voice was cold and hoarse.
"I am… a Class 6 Celestial Bloodline Prodigy. 377 veins. Early Level 3 Veinforged Initiate."
Gasps.
"That man… Relin… He must have over 410 veins. A mid-tier Level 3, minimum. Perhaps even more…"
He closed his eyes.
"If I had fought back… House Mhaerun would no longer exist. I bowed… because sometimes, we must survive humiliation to protect what we built."
Some elders nodded.
Others remained silent.
Then—
The earth rumbled.
A tremor. A deep pulse.
Something was wrong.
Blackish light slithered from the ground. One elder, curious, inhaled instinctively.
His eyes widened. He froze. Then fell.
A mummified corpse.
Silence.
And then—
Screams.
Agony.
Madness.
Enma turned, lips trembling.
He saw something.
But he didn't speak.
He couldn't.
His eyes widened.
And he froze in place.
Utterly silent.
In the background—
Screams grew louder.