We emerged in the old hall of ancestors.
The sanctuary had collapsed behind us. Dust and ash still clung to my cloak, and the Ember of the Broken Oath pulsed quietly in my palm.
Vel staggered, her body leaking faint light from a wound on her shoulder.
"That thing won't stop," she muttered. "It's bound to the roots of this house."
> [Trait Update: Shadowflame Resilience – Active]
Status: Suppressing Forbidden Burn. Healing Boosted.
"I have to speak to my father," I said.
Vel's eyes narrowed. "He knew. Maybe not all of it, but enough. Don't trust him with the ember. Not yet."
I hid the shard inside the folds of my tunic. The warmth vanished—but something deeper lingered. Like it was waiting to speak.
---
The House Virdane inner court was quiet.
Too quiet.
Servants looked away. My second brother, Tyrean, stood with arms crossed beneath the blackstone arch, flanked by two knights of the Bladed Order.
"You've caused a stir, little flame," he said. "Rooms collapsing. Magic scars. Grandfather's vault screaming across the system."
He was smiling, but there was steel behind it.
> [Status – Tyrean Virdane]
Race: Highblood Human
Class: Duel Monarch – Lv. 67
Traits: [Refined Edge], [Bloodline Dominance], [Memory Duelist]
"I was exploring," I replied. "I didn't know it was restricted."
"Of course you didn't."
He stepped closer.
"You're drawing eyes, Kael. Eyes you don't understand. Keep walking like this and you'll find a dagger in your pillow."
"I'm not afraid of shadows."
He grinned. "You should be. Especially the ones you were born into."
Vel remained silent, half a step behind me. But I felt her focus sharpen.
---
Later that night, I returned to my chambers and activated the system interface.
> [CLASS PATH UPDATE AVAILABLE]
Due to new Trait and Item acquisition, the following Evolution Branches have opened:
1. Ash-Warden of the Nine Flames (Tank / AoE / Memory Anchor)
2. Flame-Eater Revenant (DPS / Vampiric / Risk-Oriented)
3. Oathbreaker Echoblade (Hybrid / Forbidden / Disruptive)
> Recommendation: Evolution Delay suggested until Synchronization reaches 50%.
The system didn't push. It only showed. But even that weight was heavy.
And while I stared at those options, the ember pulsed again—this time with a voice:
> "Choose the wound you can carry the longest."
I closed the interface.
I wasn't ready to choose.
Not yet.
But war was already choosing me.