The Azure Pavilion was collapsing.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
Cracks spider-webbed across its jade pillars as sword intent tore through the air like invisible storms. Blood stained the white stone steps, bodies of imperial guards scattered like discarded chess pieces. At the center of it all, a lone figure knelt, breathing hard.
The Crown Prince.
Caelum Valebane.
His armor was shattered, one arm hanging limp, his golden imperial aura flickering erratically as three enemy cultivators circled him like carrion birds.
"Look at him," one sneered. "The pride of the Eternal Nocturne Empire, reduced to this."
"Heaven truly favors us tonight," another laughed. "Kill him, and the empire's spine snaps."
Above them, fate threads converged—bright, arrogant, heavy with Heaven's approval.
This was supposed to happen.
From the shadows at the pavilion's edge, Azrael watched.
He stood behind the Empress, half a step back, shoulders slouched, eyes dull. To anyone else, he looked exactly as he always had—irrelevant, weak, an afterthought even in disaster.
Inside, the dragon growled.
Family.
The word echoed like thunder in his bones.
Azrael's gaze sharpened.
The fate threads around his elder brother were already fraying, ready to be severed. If they snapped completely, the original protagonist would inherit a massive surge of Heaven's favor.
Azrael's lips curved faintly.
Unacceptable.
"Three enemies," Lilith said calmly, her voice carrying absolute authority. "All Heaven-linked. One strike too loud, and the skies will respond."
Azrael tilted his head.
"…Then don't strike," he murmured.
Lilith's eyes flicked to him.
Too late.
Azrael took a single step forward.
It was small.
Almost lazy.
But the world shifted.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Fate Interference: Active
Target(s): Azure Pavilion Fate Cluster
Method: Thread Reassignment
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The cultivators lunged.
One thrust his spear toward the Crown Prince's throat—
—and missed.
Not because Caelum moved.
Because space bent.
The attack slid past, carving a trench into the stone where Caelum should have been. The cultivator froze, confusion flashing across his face.
"What—?"
Azrael raised his eyes.
For the first time, the weak prince mask slipped completely.
Not in rage.
In cold clarity.
The pressure descended.
Not killing intent.
Authority.
Dragon authority.
The three enemy cultivators slammed to their knees as if struck by an invisible mountain. Their meridians screamed. Their souls trembled.
"This—this pressure—!" one choked.
"Heaven—help us!" another screamed.
Heaven did not answer.
Azrael extended his hand, fingers relaxed.
The fate threads above the pavilion twisted—then snapped.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Fate Devoured (Partial)
Battle Opportunity Redirected
Heaven Favor (Fragmented)
Imperial Bloodline Synchronization
Dragon Core Resonance: +0.3%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The Empress moved.
In a blur of black and gold, Lilith appeared before the kneeling enemies. Her palm fell once.
Three heads hit the ground.
Silence crashed down over the Azure Pavilion.
The Crown Prince stared, wide-eyed, chest heaving. Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
It landed on Azrael.
On his third brother.
The useless one.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Caelum's breath caught.
What… was that?
Azrael was already looking away, shoulders slumping, posture returning to lazy disinterest as if nothing had happened.
Lilith turned.
She studied Azrael in silence.
Longer than before.
"You interfered with fate," she said softly.
Azrael yawned.
"…Did I?" he replied. "I just didn't want to hear them shouting."
The pavilion trembled as distant thunder rolled.
Not from battle.
From the sky.
Heaven was displeased.
Azrael felt it—an invisible gaze pressing down, probing, searching for the anomaly that had disrupted its script.
His smile was faint.
Too late.
The Crown Prince was alive.
The family line remained unbroken.
And somewhere far away, a Heaven-favored youth felt an inexplicable emptiness—something precious stolen before he even realized it was his.
Azrael turned and walked back to the Empress's side.
When he passed Caelum, he paused just long enough to whisper:
"Don't die so easily next time, brother."
Caelum shivered.
Behind Azrael, the dragon coiled tighter.
Hungry.
Above them, fate recoiled.
—
The sky screamed.
Not with thunder.
With judgment.
Above the imperial capital, clouds churned violently, spiraling inward as golden lightning coalesced into a massive, unblinking eye formed from pure law. Heaven's Will—thin, distant, but unmistakably present—descended its gaze upon the Eternal Nocturne Empire.
Cultivators froze mid-battle.
Even enemies faltered.
"Heaven's… watching," someone whispered in terror.
In a distant corner of the battlefield, a young man dressed in white staggered.
The Heaven's Chosen Son.
The protagonist.
He clutched his chest, eyes wide, breath ragged.
Something was missing.
Something that had always been there.
His luck churned erratically. His cultivation stuttered. The invisible sense of inevitability—the comforting assurance that the world would bend for him—flickered.
"No…" he muttered. "That opportunity… it was mine…"
Far away, Azrael felt the backlash ripple through fate like a snapped tendon.
He didn't look up.
He didn't need to.
So this is the sound Heaven makes when it bleeds, he thought lazily.
The Empress moved.
Lilith Noctyrr Valebane raised one hand.
The imperial formations roared to life, ancient dragon runes igniting across the palace like a constellation reborn. The golden eye in the sky shuddered as layers of imperial authority slammed against it.
Not defiance.
Negotiation.
Heaven's gaze lingered.
Then—slowly—it withdrew.
The clouds dispersed.
The pressure vanished.
A collective breath was released across the capital.
The battle was over.
Victory belonged to the empire.
And yet—something far more dangerous had begun.
—
Later.
Deep within the imperial palace, in a chamber sealed by nine layers of soundproofing and fate isolation, Lilith stood before Azrael.
No guards.
No witnesses.
Just mother and son.
The air was heavy.
"You hid it well," she said finally. "Your aura. Your blood. Even from me."
Azrael slouched against a pillar, arms folded loosely.
"…I'm lazy," he replied. "Hiding is easier than explaining."
Lilith turned.
Her gaze was sharp—probing not his cultivation, but his existence.
"You interfered with Heaven's script," she said. "Not clumsily. Not recklessly. Precisely."
She stepped closer.
"One does not do that without knowing the price."
Azrael met her eyes.
For once, there was no mockery in his gaze.
"I know," he said calmly. "That's why I did it early."
Silence fell.
Then—
Lilith laughed.
Soft. Low. Dangerous.
"Good," she said. "Because from this moment on, our family is no longer playing defense."
She stopped an arm's length from him.
Up close, the Empress was overwhelming—beauty sharpened by power, authority woven into every breath. For the first time, Azrael felt it clearly.
She is not just my mother.
She is a ruler.
Lilith reached out.
Two fingers pressed lightly against his chest—right above his heart.
For a fleeting instant, Azrael's Dragon Core throbbed in response.
The contact lingered.
Too long to be accidental.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…A dragon," she murmured. "So that's what Heaven tried to bury."
Azrael did not move.
Did not pull away.
"Will you betray the empire?" she asked quietly.
He tilted his head.
"Why would I?" he replied. "It's mine."
Something dangerous passed between them.
Approval.
Possession.
A bond sealed not by affection—but by shared ambition.
"Very well," Lilith said, withdrawing her hand. "From tonight onward, you act weak in public. Let them underestimate you."
Azrael smiled faintly.
"I was planning to."
"And when Heaven moves again?"
His eyes darkened.
"Then," he said softly, "I'll steal more."
The Empress turned toward the door.
As it opened, she paused.
"…Azrael."
"Yes?"
"Protect your sister," she said. "And your brothers."
Azrael's lazy demeanor vanished completely.
For just a heartbeat.
"I will," he said.
Anyone who threatened them—
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
—
Far away, in a ruined sect pavilion, the Heaven's Chosen Son collapsed to his knees.
Blood spilled from his mouth.
His master's voice echoed in his mind, frantic and confused.
"Your luck… it's unstable. Someone interfered."
The young man clenched his fists.
"I'll take it back," he hissed. "Whatever was stolen—I'll reclaim it."
Unseen by him, a faint golden thread—his destiny—was already coiled around a black-scaled claw.
And tightening.
—
Back in his chamber, Azrael lay on his bed once more, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling as if nothing had happened.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Chapter Summary
Major Fate Deviation Achieved
Heaven Awareness: Increased
Dragon Core Unsealing: 0.4%
Family Fate: Temporarily Stabilized
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Azrael yawned.
"Troublesome," he muttered.
Then he smiled.
"But manageable."
—