After the confrontation with Prince Kael, Asher returned to the grand hall of the ceremony. The air was lively—filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and murmurs of countless nobles exchanging pleasantries. Asher found himself surrounded once again, this time not by princes or enemies, but by nobles and their children.
The younger ones swarmed him with admiration, their eyes wide as if they were meeting a hero from the stories. Girls giggled behind their hands, some daring to step closer to him, while the boys tried to engage in conversation to hide their awe. Asher's jaw tightened—he was never fond of this kind of attention.
Then a voice cut through the noise.
An announcement boomed across the hall. The chatter fell to silence, and the atmosphere shifted. Heads turned. The doors opened, and two figures of immeasurable presence entered—the Aurelion heir and Rose Draker. Their arrival demanded respect.
Every noble instinctively lowered their head, except the Patriarch of Valcren, Samael, who remained still as stone. Rose, her beauty radiant but distant, let her gaze wander through the hall. From afar, her eyes caught Asher—still surrounded by girls, his expression caught between frustration and weariness.
Before the crowd could overwhelm him further, Lilith stepped in. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, flashing her brother a teasing smile.
"Can I get some time with my brother?" she said, disarming the situation with her charm.
"Thanks, sis…" Asher muttered with a hint of irritation as the crowd reluctantly dispersed.
Lilith chuckled. "So there is something my little brother isn't good at after all."
"Don't start," Asher warned, his voice carrying just enough sharpness.
Lilith tilted her head, her eyes glimmering mischievously. "Tell me… has anyone caught your eye?"
"No one," Asher said flatly, his tone firm, but beneath it was an edge of discomfort. "And I'm not interested in such things."
"We'll see," she answered with playful certainty, her words lingering like a prophecy.
Their banter was interrupted as Michael and William approached. The four siblings stood side by side. The sight of the Valcren heirs together—united, smiling genuinely at one another—was enough to send an unspoken message to every noble in attendance: the dragon's children stand as one.
Anyone who dared to lay a finger on a Valcren would incur the wrath of their bloodline. Even the Imperial Family was not exempt.
The ceremony proceeded. Children of ten years and older were called forth. One by one, they stepped to the front, where the massive mana stone awaited. Samael stood tall on the stage, his commanding presence filling the hall.
Then came a sudden stir. Another announcement. The heavy doors opened once more. Prince Kael entered with calculated grace, his presence alone forcing the hall to bow.
But not all bent the knee.
Eight figures remained standing—Samael and his children, and the Aurelion line. Their refusal was deliberate, a silent proclamation that the Prince was no true heir to the throne. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and Kael's face hardened, his fury barely veiled. Yet even as anger burned in his eyes, he could do nothing. He knew too well that without these great houses, the Empire itself would collapse.
"Raise your heads," Kael barked, his voice sharp. "The ceremony will continue."
The testing began. Each child pressed their hand upon the stone, and the crystal flared according to their mana capacity and talent. For most, the glow was faint. A few shone bright enough to earn whispers of admiration. Each result determined futures—soldiers, scholars, or rare opportunities to serve within the Imperial halls.
Then came the name the entire hall was waiting for.
"Asher von Valcren."
A silence followed, heavy with expectation.
Asher stepped forward, his steps calm yet firm. His siblings watched with unspoken tension. Sean and Nora whispered in unison, "All the best, young master."
Every gaze fixed on him—the youngest Valcren, the boy whispered to be blessed by the dragon's blood.
He placed his hand on the stone. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—
The hall erupted in light.
A blinding radiance burst forth from the stone, a beam so powerful it pierced the sky. The entire chamber shook as if the heavens themselves acknowledged his power. Even miles away, people could see the pillar of light surging upward. The nobles shielded their eyes, some falling to their knees, unable to withstand the sheer force of mana pouring out.
When the brilliance finally faded, all turned, desperate to see the result.
The crystal displayed his rank: ZSSS.
Gasps filled the chamber. Silence followed. Even Samael, whose cold exterior was said to be unshakable, widened his eyes. William's calm mask shattered into shock. Michael's lips curled into a stunned smile, and Lilith's breath caught in her throat.
"Am I dreaming, sister?" Michael whispered, unable to believe it.
"You tell me," Lilith answered, her voice trembling.
Aurelion himself muttered, "Impossible… The Valcren bloodline truly are monsters."
Even Kael was left dumbfounded, his ambition burning into resentment.
The record—once held by Nova von Valcren, the founder, with a rating of ZS—had been shattered.
Asher surpassed them all.
The hall froze as Asher stepped down, the echo of his footsteps the only sound. He halted before his father. Samael placed his heavy hand on his son's shoulder and finally broke the silence.
"Don't forget—you are a Valcren."
The hall erupted.
"Long live the Young Dragon!"
"The blood of Valcren reigns supreme!"
"The true heir of dragons!"
The cries shook the walls, the air itself vibrating with reverence and fear.
From there, the ceremony continued, though every test afterward seemed dull compared to the storm Asher had unleashed. Rose earned a remarkable SS, while Sean and Nora scored solid S-ranks, their pride clear. Yet their gazes remained fixed on Asher, who had already transcended comparison.
Later, when congratulated, Asher dismissed the praises with humility. "You both did well too," he said to Sean and Nora, their faces lighting up at his words.
But when he quietly ordered them to gather the lowest-scoring children, confusion stirred. "Young master… why them? They barely passed," Sean asked, perplexed.
"Just do it," Asher replied, his smirk concealing his true intent.
The night pressed on with waves of nobles offering congratulations. Michael, William, and Lilith each embraced him in pride. Samael, in a rare show of possessive fury, declared to Aurelion, "Any who lay hands on him—I'll cut them down. Even if it's the Imperial Family." His words struck the hall like steel.
Later, as the crowds thinned, Asher left the hall.
"So many people…" he muttered.
"It's natural, young master," Emily said softly, walking beside him. "You achieved the impossible. Tonight, you belong to history."
The night sky stretched above, the moon bathing the gardens in silver light. Emily tilted her face upward. "The night is beautiful, isn't it?"
Asher raised his eyes—and froze.
Amid a garden of white blossoms stood a girl. She gazed at the moon, her form serene, her aura ethereal. Time seemed to stop around her. For Asher, the world blurred. The laughter of nobles, Emily's words, the waiting children in the training grounds—everything disappeared.
His heart hammered violently in his chest. What is this feeling? Poison? No… something else…
Drawn as if by invisible threads, he began walking toward her, each step slow, hesitant, yet unstoppable. Emily called out from behind, alarmed, but her voice faded into nothingness.
The girl turned, her eyes meeting his.
Asher's lips parted, his voice trembling as if he'd forgotten how to speak.
"H… hi…"
She lowered her head gracefully. "I pay my respects to the Young Dragon."
"No need… no need for that," Asher stammered, his face flushed, his chest tightening.
He swallowed hard, his gaze locked on her as if she were the only soul in the world.
"Your name," he asked, his tone fragile yet desperate, his eyes filled with something new, something unshakable.