Gasps rippled through the grand hall.
Then came the whispers low, venomous, and barely restrained.
"How could a commoner receive such a powerful core?"
"Disgusting... Filth like that doesn't deserve the Heavenly Dragon's blessing."
"Surely it's a mistake…"
The lower ranking nobles sneered openly, their pride wounded. They saw Mark not as a miracle but a threat. His very existence shattered the belief that bloodline dictated worth.
But while the lesser nobles grumbled in disgust, the high ranking houses moved in silence, their eyes sharp and calculating.
Servants and advisors leaned in beside their masters. Quiet discussions began. Strategies were whispered behind fans and between false smiles.
"He's young. Powerful. Unsullied by noble politics…"
"We must act quickly before the others do."
"Offer him a title. Or better yet a daughter."
Though they despised commoners just the same, the high ranking nobles were pragmatic. Power was power. And if they couldn't control it, they'd rather tie it to their bloodline than leave it in the hands of a scheming priest.
Mark stood tall before them all expression blank, gaze sharp.
I hear all of you, he thought, tuning out the insults and focusing on the quiet power plays.
Half of you want me dead. The other half want me married.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"At this rate… if I play my cards right," he mused internally, "I could build a harem out of political desperation."
He wasn't joking.
If marrying into a higher noble house meant escaping the priest's control later… so be it. But it had to be one of the elite families those strong enough to rival the priest's authority, and perhaps even passive enough to tolerate a former commoner as kin.
Meanwhile, the commoners in the crowd tried their best to cheer.
They clapped. They shouted. They called Mark's name.
But their faces told a different story.
Jealousy.
Bitterness.
Many couldn't decide whether to admire him… or hate him.
And through it all, Head Priest August stood at the podium, forcing a smile.
But inside, his blood boiled.
He could feel the shift in the air.
The high nobles wanted to steal his prize.
The low nobles wanted to destroy it.
And the commoners? Useless, fickle, and envious.
He clenched the scroll tightly.
No matter what schemes these vultures devise… the boy belongs to me he thought.
As the ceremony drew to a close, the crowd slowly began to disperse. Mark, along with June Valor and Lora Valentine, stepped down from the stage beneath the grand podium.
Immediately, a tall noble flanked by his well dressed advisor made his move. The advisor stepped forward, eyes locked on Mark, ready to offer flattering words or marriage proposals.
But before he could utter a syllable, a firm hand gripped Mark's shoulder.
"Come with me, child," said the head priest, his voice calm but tight.
Without hesitation, he whisked Mark away from the noble's reach, placing himself like a wall between them. His ornate robe fluttered as he turned, shooting the advisor a cold, murderous glare.
A silent message passed between them.
Touch him, and you'll regret it.
The advisor froze. Even the noble behind him backed away slightly, understanding that the boy was already claimed.
Mark noticed the whole exchange and it annoyed him.
Great. If I'm going to win favor with any of the nobles, it'll have to be at the academy where this overprotective hawk can't shadow me every second.
As they moved through the crowd, the priest leaned down slightly, whispering just loud enough for Mark to hear.
"Don't trust everyone here, child," he said with fatherly concern. "Most of them only want to use you."
Mark responded with a soft, innocent, "Okay."
But inside… he almost laughed.
Coming from you, that's rich.
With the crowd parting before them like waves before royalty, the two exited the temple steps and made their way toward a luxurious horse-drawn carriage waiting outside. The polished black wood glinted under the fading sun, and golden trim along the windows marked it as property of the temple's highest authority.
The head priest gestured for Mark to enter.
"Come. We'll pick up your family on the way to your new home."
Mark stepped inside without a word.
The carriage rolled steadily through the narrow, cracked streets of the outer slums. The further it went, the more confused the townspeople became.
"Is that... the High Priest?"
Whispers filled the air like smoke. No one could understand why someone of such high standing would bother stepping foot into a place like this a forgotten corner of Moonvale that reeked of poverty and despair.
Mark sat quietly in the carriage, eyes fixed out the window. The crumbling buildings, the broken signs, the rusted lanterns it was all so familiar. And yet, for the first time, he felt like a visitor here.
This is the last time I'll ever have to see this place like this, he thought, gripping his knees. Clean clothes... warm food... maybe even a real bed. I just have to play my role right. Be their weapon... for now.
The carriage came to a halt in front of a small, beaten down house. The priest gave Mark a passing glance before scoffing quietly. "You and the guards go fetch them," he ordered, not bothering to step out. "I won't risk dirtying my robes."
Mark said nothing. He stepped out, the guards following behind him.
As he opened the front door, a small figure dashed toward him with wild excitement.
"Mark! Mark!" his little sister cried, leaping into his arms.
Her golden-blonde hair was messy, her face smudged with dust, but her smile was as bright as ever. "What magic did you get? Who are these people?!"
Mark smiled warmly as he lifted her up into his arms.
"Don't worry about them, Lily," he said softly. "I'll explain everything later. For now... can you get Mom and Dad?"
She nodded quickly and leapt from his arms, sprinting toward the back of the house. "Momma! Poppa! Mark is here!"
Moments later, Mark's parents emerged from the kitchen his mother wiping her hands on a ragged cloth, his father looking wary at the sight of armed guards. Their expressions were tense, frightened even.
Mark noticed right away.
"I'm not in trouble," he said before they could ask. "It's... the opposite, actually."
He quickly explained everything—the ceremony, the mana core, the head priest's offer. As he spoke, their worried faces slowly turned to stunned disbelief, and then to joy.
Tears welled in his mother's eyes. His father stood still, jaw trembling.
"Our little boy..."
Mark lowered his head, suddenly overwhelmed.
At least now... I can give them a better life.
Mark led his family out of the tiny, crumbling house and toward the carriage. His mother hesitated, glancing back at their home.
"Wait... shouldn't we bring something? Clothes, maybe?"
Mark turned to her with a calm smile. "It's fine, Mom. The priest said we'll be given everything we need at the mansion."
Still unsure, she gave the house one last look before nodding and following him.
Outside, the sun reflected off the polished carriage like it was made of crystal. The contrast between it and their dirty streets was jarring. The High Priest with a practiced, gentle smile called to the family.
"Please, come in," he gestured.
The family quietly boarded, sitting across from him as instructed. The moment they entered, they were greeted by soft cushions, golden trim, and the scent of roses. For people who had never known anything beyond grime and dust, it was like stepping into a dream.
The carriage began its journey through the city.
As it left the slums behind, they passed through the inner circles of Moonvale. The roads were cleaner, the air somehow lighter. Noble estates began to line the streets, some guarded by enchanted golems, others displaying exotic beasts as status symbols.
Mark's eyes lingered on one estate where a Ground Dragon lounged lazily in the front yard. They were common in this world, sure but only nobles could afford to buy the eggs and maintain their care. A Ground Dragon alone cost more than his entire district had in gold.
His little sister gasped at the sight, pressing her face against the window. "It's like a storybook," she whispered.
Finally, the carriage stopped at a massive estate far grander than any they'd seen so far.
"This is... the priest's mansion?" his father asked in disbelief.
Built from polished high grade metal second only to the mythical Dragon Steel the manor stood like a castle. Dozens of guards, both human and golem, patrolled its walls, their armor glinting in the sunlight.
The gates opened slowly, revealing a wide path lined with mana lamps and floating flowerbeds. It was almost too surreal.
Mark stared in silence before muttering under breath sarcastically with a smirk, "Wow. What a humble priest."
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the towering mansion gates. Mark stepped out first, followed closely by his family. The High Priest glanced over his shoulder, urgency flickering in his eyes.
"Make haste, make haste," he said quickly, waving them toward the entrance.
It wasn't out of hospitality it was caution. He didn't want wandering eyes, especially those of rival nobles, catching sight of Mark. Not now. Not when he had the boy secured.
They entered through the grand doorway, where an army of maids stood in perfect formation, awaiting instruction.
"Bathe the children," the priest ordered sharply. "Dress them in proper attire."
The maids bowed and rushed forward.
Mark gave his little sister a reassuring nod as she was gently led away, her curious eyes darting between the sparkling chandeliers and golden walls. His parents were escorted down another corridor, shown into marble-tiled baths, with clean clothes already laid out for them.
For the first time in years, Mark saw his mother's shoulders relax. The grime of poverty was already being scrubbed away.
But Mark's thoughts were distant.
This was it. His life was no longer his own.
From here on out, he would live as a weapon. A tool. Groomed for war, trained for control. The price for lifting his family out of filth... was his freedom.
In a separate chamber, the High Priest shut the heavy doors to his private office.
He lit a blue-flamed candle with a snap of his fingers and sat at his desk, quill in hand. Dipping the feathered tip into ink, he began to write on parchment laced with royal seal markings.
"Your Majesty,
After years of failed awakenings and false prophecies, the Ceremony of the Eclipse has finally yielded the result we long hoped for.
The Dragon's Core has manifested… and it rests within a commoner boy.
He is under my protection and control.
Training begins immediately.
We have found him.
The one we've been searching for.
The dragon's power has been found."
He folded the parchment carefully, sealed it with the sigil of the temple, and handed it to a trusted raven perched nearby.
The bird screeched softly before vanishing into the night sky.