Kenji finally understood the root of the anomaly that was his wife's growth.
The moment the Volkovs had stepped across his threshold, Kenji had activated [Observation]. And he understood that his wife did not come from an ordinary family after all. He had had his doubts for a while now, and it looked like he was proven right.
[Dmitri Volkov – Tier 8 [Mid High-Class Mage] [Water Demon]
[Elizaveta Volkov – Tier 8 [Mid High-Class Mage] [Spirit feind]
Even more surprising was that Elizaveta was the granddaughter of a Valkyrie.
That made Anastasia the great-granddaughter of a Valkyrie. That explained so much. Sure, it was diluted and all, but still, the bloodline of a valkyrie would be more magical than an average Joe after all.
The rest of the siblings were a hierarchy of mediocrity by comparison at least to him. Most hovered in the Mid-mid-Class range. Only Mikhail, the eldest son, stood out with a solid High-mid-Class. For normal people, that was very impressive.
But the most interesting part wasn't their power. It was that each of them carried blessings.
Norse blessings.
So that was the truth. The Volkov family were not merely simple Russian mages. They were "God-Blessed" agents, a bloodline tied directly to the halls of Valhalla, likely serving as a bridge for the Norse Pantheon's interests in the human world.
"Why are you here, Father?"
Anastasia's voice cut through the polite clinking of teacups like a serrated blade.
Dmitri turned his gaze toward her, his composure as polished as a mirror. "This again? I believe I already explained the importance of familial unity, Anastasia. We are here to bridge the gap that your... impulsive youth created."
Slam!
Her hands hit the coffee table with enough force to make the tea splash over the rims. Kenji blinked, genuinely surprised. In all their years of marriage, through even the struggles, he had rarely seen her lose control like this. She was the rock, the disciplined one, the restrained one, the cooling agent to his often-boiling temperament.
But now, she wasn't just angry. She was vibrating with a decade's worth of suppressed rage.
"Little sister," Mikhail interjected, his voice smooth. He leaned back, his eyes wandering over the room with near open disdain.
Anastasia's head snapped toward him, her blue eyes narrowing into slits. "Keep that sly tongue of yours behind your teeth, Mikhail. I know exactly what kind of 'snake' you are."
Mikhail smiled faintly, unimpressed. "Come now. We traveled across the country to reach this... quaint little outpost. This 'home' of yours." He said the word home as if he was disgusted.
Kenji's fingers twitched once against his knee. He remained silent, his expression unreadable. This was Anastasia's confrontation, her chance to vent and release all the poison they had injected into her life years ago. He wouldn't take that from her unless they crossed the line.
"And instead of hospitality," Mikhail continued, "you insult Father and Mother, calling them liars. Where are the manners we spent so much to instill in you when you were little?"
"If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a duck," Anastasia snapped, leaning over the table. Did he honestly believe she believed that bullcrap about family? "You're here because you want something. You've always wanted something. Hell, you don't even know how to breathe without calculating the profit of the air."
Mikhail's lips flattened, his polite facade finally showing a crack of genuine irritation. He opened his mouth to retort, but Kenji decided the "venting" portion of the evening had reached its productive limit. As much as he wanted her to continue, he knew she could go all night.
"Why are you here?"
Kenji's voice instantly drained the sound from the room. He gave Anastasia a brief, apologetic glance, a silent 'I've got this' before his eyes turned toward Dmitri.
"Why are agents of the Norse Pantheon sitting in my living room right now?"
silence.
Every Volkov in the room froze. Dmitri's eyes widened, the teacup halfway to his lips, trembling just enough to ripple the surface.
"How did you—" Dmitri started, but the words died in his throat.
Suddenly, pressure descended. He seems to have gotten used to this.
Kenji allowed a fraction of his presence to leak, focused entirely on the Volkov side of the room. The air grew heavy enough to make the floorboards groan.
Anastasia couldn't believe it. Was Kenji implying that her family was part of the supernatural, her breath hitching as she saw her father begin to weave a defensive runic circle to counter the crushing force.
She froze, didn't know what to say as she just watched.
"Did you believe I wouldn't recognize the signature of a Norse blessing?" Kenji asked calmly, leaning forward.
It was a total lie. Without [Observation], he wouldn't have known they were blessed at all.
"So the rumors really are true," Dmitri muttered as the pressure eased, allowing him to gasp for air. He straightened his tie with trembling hands, a new, hungry glint flickering in his gaze.
"Rumors?" Kenji tilted his head. "I expected a few." He had, after all, killed a Cadre-level Fallen Angel like Kokabiel in a public spectacle and traded blows with the Old Satan Faction. Secrets in the supernatural world had a half-life of about twenty minutes, especially where all he did was in front of devils and fallens who can't shut up.
"Yes," Dmitri said, a touch of genuine amusement returning to his voice. "What a surprise to discover that the 'The Golden Beast' whispered about across the factions... the man who killed Kokabiel... is my own son-in-law."
'The golden beast? Was that what people were calling him? why? Where were they seeing any gold on him? Wait, was it because of his eyes' he thought. 'Ugh, what an unusual name and not a good one at that.'
Still, Kenji understood the pivot immediately. He wasn't the "peasant" anymore. He was now a possible asset to the man.
"So you heard my name," Kenji said flatly, "and suddenly decided I'm worthy of a seat at your table?"
Dmitri nodded, devoid of any shame. "Exactly. Power recognizes power, Kenji. We would be fools to ignore a resource of your magnitude."
Elizaveta, who had remained mostly silent, leaned forward now. Her gaze didn't go to Kenji, but to Anastasia. "We were disappointed when you abandoned your family and training and ran away with a commoner," she said, her voice like cracking ice. "But look at you now."
Her gaze shifted, sliding toward Aoi and Ayaka.
Kenji's eyes followed hers.
"You chose well, Anastasia," Elizaveta continued softly. "A strong husband. An excellent bloodline. These offspring.... Even from here, I can sense the spark in them is brighter than yours ever was."
"With proper guidance," Elizaveta added, her voice dropping into a predatory whisper, "they could bring immense value to House Volkov. They would make as fine products for the future of the house."
The world went silent, as if death were coming.
The light in the world seemed to cease in her gaze.
Elizaveta felt something looming over her. It looked like a monster with no proper shape. Golden eyes flared in the dim light, glowing with sun-like intensity.
"What. Did. You. Say?"
The voice that echoed didn't sound human. It sounded like two stones grinding together.
Elizaveta's body refused to obey her. Her muscles locked. Her head was forced down by a physical weight of pure bloodlust. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dmitri and Mikhail mages completely paralyzed, their faces pale with terror as sweat poured down their faces.
Kenji didn't even remember standing up. He didn't remember crossing the room. But suddenly, his hand was resting on top of Elizaveta's head, his fingers splayed across her scalp.
"What did you just call my children?"
The intent was obvious. One pull, one flex of his mana, and he would tear her skull from her spine before she could even formulate a scream.
"Kenji."
Anastasia's voice. Soft. Trembling, but firm.
He turned his head. His wife was standing, her arms wrapped around Aoi and Ayaka, pulling them close to her chest. She was shielding their eyes, her own gaze pleading with him. There was fear in the children's eyes.
He exhaled slowly. The bloodlust receded, the golden glow in his eyes fading back to normal.
The Volkovs let out a collective, ragged gasp as the pressure vanished. Elizaveta collapsed back into her chair, clutching her throat, her eyes wide with the realization of how close she had come to dying.
"Sorry," Kenji murmured to Anastasia, his voice returning to its normal, human octave.
She nodded once, her face pale. She turned to her parents, her voice devoid of any warmth, she seemed to have now calmed down, controlling her anger. "We will continue this tomorrow. Or perhaps we won't. For now, you will leave my house. My children need their sleep."
Dmitri seized the exit she offered with desperate dignity. He stood, his legs slightly shaky, and signaled to the rest of the family. They filed out in a hurried, silent procession. Not a single Volkov dared to meet Kenji's eyes on the way out. They left the house as if fleeing a burning building.
Upstairs, Anastasia guided the children to their rooms, her voice low and soothing.
Downstairs, Kenji sat in the living room, leaning back in his chair.
Far away, in the crystalline spires of the Seventh Heaven.
Michael, the Archangel and current regent of the Heavens, stood before the Great System.
It was glowing. Glowing in ways it never had since....since...
Since the passing of God, Michael took a deep breath at that.
The Heavenly System had functioned at a reduced capacity ever since. It was stable, but diminished.
But for the last few weeks, it had begun to pulse with an energy reminiscent of the era when God still walked the halls of the Silver City.
"I've never seen it behave like this," Michael said quietly, his six golden wings shimmering in the system's glow. He meant after their father's passing.
Raphael stepped forward, his eyes darting across the floating runes. "The efficiency is climbing. The prayer conversion has jumped by forty percent. It's as if the system is being... It's performing better than....." he stopped, but Michael knew what he was going to say.
'better than when he was using it,' Michael thought a little bitterly, but didn't bother with it since it was the truth.
"Are you certain nothing was altered from within?" Rahpael asked, his brow furrowed.
"I am," Michael replied.
Uriel studied the flow patterns of the divine light. Not saying a word.
Gabriel smiled faintly, her voice hopeful. "Perhaps it is Father's blessing. A gift."
Michael remained silent. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that their Father was still watching, still fixing things from the Great Beyond. But hope was a dangerous thing for a leader.
The system glowed steadily, a perfect, unyielding light that reminded him of father. He couldn't find a single flaw in its operation. In fact, it was more perfect than it had been in a thousand years.
And that troubled him more than if it had been broken.
"I hope you're right, Sister," Michael finally said.
Because if this wasn't a miracle from their Father, if this was the result of an external force touching the very foundation of Heaven, then they were no longer the masters of their own house. And Michael had no idea what was holding the key.
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