'Grow my clan? Well, that's certainly some timing… I'm already halfway there.'
Corven couldn't help but let a grin tug at the corners of his lips. For once, it felt like the system wasn't just watching from the sidelines—it was actively backing him up.
It had always offered the occasional prompt or support. But this? This felt intentional. Like it actually wanted him to succeed.
And if that was the case, then he'd exploit that edge without hesitation.
Leaning forward toward the girl—his soon-to-be progeny—Corven allowed a note of satisfaction to color his voice.
"Can I ask your name first? Better to know who I'm making part of my clan before we get to the... proceedings." He chuckled lightly.
She raised an eyebrow, curious.
"My name? So you really don't know me, huh? You two must be freshbloods."
The word hung there, tinged with casual judgment.
From the side, Rose scoffed. "The term 'freshblood' is really starting to sound like an insult or slur lately."
