The royal capital of Lumina, Aetherion, rose like a jeweled crown from the central plains. Spires of white marble veined with living gold climbed toward perpetual blue skies, while below them sprawled districts of jade-roofed manors, qi-gathering pagodas, and mana-forged boulevards wide enough for ten war carriages abreast. At the absolute center stood the Palace of Eternal Dawn—its central tower piercing the clouds, crowned by a massive sun-crystal that bathed the entire city in warm, invigorating light every morning.
Elaric's wind-sloop descended onto the private heir's landing platform on the palace's eastern wing. An honor guard of Royal Knights—each at least Early Palace realm in aura—stood in perfect formation, golden capes fluttering. Beside them waited a tall woman in silver-white court robes embroidered with the royal sunburst: Archmage Lirien Voss, First Advisor to the King and one of the few Saint-realm existences openly acknowledged in the kingdom.
She inclined her head—barely—as Elaric stepped down with Zephyr on one shoulder and Nyxara padding silently at his heel like liquid night.
"Young master Elaric Sylvaine," her voice carried the crisp clarity of wind-chimes forged from star-metal. "His Majesty awaits. The court is already assembled. Be advised: every word, every gesture, every flicker of power will be weighed."
Elaric met her eyes calmly. Storm Sovereign's Gaze peeled back layers: she was genuinely curious, professionally neutral, and carrying a faint trace of royal qi that marked her as the King's direct confidante.
"I understand, Archmage. Lead on."
They walked through corridors lined with living statues that bowed as they passed, past galleries where portraits of past monarchs watched with painted eyes that sometimes blinked. Zephyr's feathers occasionally sparked; Nyxara's horn left faint trails of shadow-smoke that dissipated instantly.
The Grand Throne Hall doors—thirty meters tall, carved from a single World Tree trunk—swung open without touch.
Inside: five hundred nobles, generals, sect representatives, and foreign envoys filled tiered galleries. At the far end, on a throne of condensed sunlight, sat King Alaric III—mid-forties in appearance, but his aura betrayed at least eight hundred years of accumulated power. Dual Saint in Mana and Aura, with rumored Nascent Soul traces in Qi. His eyes were pale gold, like molten coins.
To his immediate right stood Crown Prince Valerian—twenty-eight, handsome, cold, Peak Saint in Mana. To the left, Third Prince Cassian—twenty-four, charming smile, hidden killing intent, Early Saint in Ki. Several princesses and duchesses lined the dais as well.
Silence fell as Elaric approached the center of the hall.
He stopped ten paces from the throne steps. Bowed—deep enough for respect, shallow enough to show he was no supplicant.
"Your Majesty. I am Elaric Sylvaine, heir of House Sylvaine. I come at your summons."
The King leaned forward slightly.
"Rise. We have heard much of your… awakening. Divine bloodline. Multi-system talent at ten years. The slaying of Darius Vesper and the crippling of their shadow network. Impressive. Terrifying, even."
Murmurs rippled through the galleries.
Elaric straightened. "I acted in defense of my house and the kingdom's northern border. The beast tide approaches. Division serves no one."
"Indeed." The King's gaze flicked to the Third Prince. "Yet talent of your caliber draws many eyes. Many offers. House Vesper has formally petitioned for restitution—blood for blood. House Frostveil offers exclusive frost-qi trade rights. House Starweave proposes a marriage alliance with their second daughter. And my own court… has its thoughts."
He gestured.
Third Prince Cassian stepped forward, smile perfect.
"Elaric Sylvaine. The kingdom would be strengthened by closer ties between our houses. I have a younger sister—Princess Elowen, sixteen, Peak Adept in Mana and Early Foundation in Qi. Graceful, talented, beloved. A union between you would bind Sylvaine loyalty to the throne eternally."
The hall held its breath.
Elaric felt the weight of every calculation in the room.
He smiled—small, polite, lethal.
"Your Highness is generous. Yet I am young, and my path is… complicated. I cultivate all systems simultaneously. A wife would need to match that pace—or be left behind. I would not wish such loneliness on any princess."
A ripple of gasps.
Cassian's smile tightened fractionally.
The King raised a hand.
"Bold words. But boldness has its place. We shall table betrothals for now. Instead—demonstrate. Show this court why a ten-year-old heir can slay Core Formation elders and terrify ancient houses."
Elaric inclined his head.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
He stepped into the center of the open floor—fifty meters of polished sunstone.
No preparation. No flourish.
He simply exhaled.
First Hybrid Domain – Fusion Breakthrough
Inside his sea of consciousness: Dual-System Fusion Core activated.
Mana Storm Domain (Mid Master Mage) + Ki Killing Intent Domain (Peak Ki Condensation, enhanced by shadow scripture).
Opposites collided.
Storm winds howled → carried threads of black killing intent that ignored physical armor.
Lightning arced → each bolt left trails of devouring shadow that corroded aura and qi on contact.
The air around Elaric darkened to twilight despite the sun-crystal overhead.
A perfect sphere fifteen meters in diameter snapped into existence.
Inside it: storm raged. Outside: absolute calm.
He spoke softly.
"This is 'Tempest of Silent Judgment.' Wind carries death. Lightning purifies sin. Shadow devours intent. Any who enter without permission… die."
To demonstrate—he beckoned.
A volunteer stepped forward: a Royal Knight, Late Palace realm, confident.
He entered the domain.
Instantly—wind pressed him. Killing intent threads wrapped his meridians. Lightning struck once—clean, surgical—severing three minor qi channels without breaking skin.
The knight staggered out, pale, sweating.
"I… could not resist. My aura crumbled. My intent turned against me."
Silence.
Then applause—slow at first, then thunderous.
The King's eyes gleamed.
"Magnificent. A domain at ten. Hybrid. Unprecedented."
Crown Prince Valerian leaned close to his father and whispered something. The King nodded once.
"Elaric Sylvaine. You will remain in the capital for one month. Attend court sessions. Train with the Royal Academy's geniuses. We will discuss borders, tides… and futures."
It was not a request.
Elaric bowed again.
"As Your Majesty wills."
But inside—System pinged.
Hidden Quest Updated: "Throne Gambit"
Objective: Survive one month in capital without being forced into binding alliance or assassination. Bonus: Turn at least one royal sibling into genuine ally.
Reward: Royal Favor Token + Mythic Fusion Ticket
That night, in the guest palace wing assigned to him.
Elaric sat cross-legged on the balcony overlooking the city lights.
Nyxara lay beside him, horn glowing faintly. Zephyr circled high above.
He opened Eternal Sovereign Scripture – Chapter 2 again.
Comprehension surged to 92%.
Final line burned into his soul:
"When domain and intent become one, the sovereign no longer fights—he simply is the law."
DING!
Fusion Breakthrough Complete
Hybrid Domain "Tempest of Silent Judgment" stabilized
New Passive: Domain Authority +1 (first step toward personal world creation)
All future hybrid fusions gain +25% efficiency
He exhaled.
Then—urgent alert.
System Notification: Beast Tide Precursor Wave Detected
Location: Northern Frostfang Pass – Sylvaine defensive line
Scale: Major Skirmish – 3,000+ demonic beasts, led by 5 Core Formation realm alphas
Allied Forces Present: Sylvaine vanguard + Frostveil frost-knights
Casualties Projected Without Intervention: 41%
Elaric stood.
"Time to show the capital what northern defense really looks like."
He summoned a wind-sloop talisman—royal guest privilege.
But before he left, a soft knock.
Princess Elowen—sixteen, silver hair, gentle eyes—stood in the doorway, alone.
"I… wished to speak before you depart. The court talks of betrothals. I wanted you to know—I am no pawn. If our houses align, it will be because we choose it. Not because they command."
Elaric studied her.
No hidden intent. No seal. Genuine curiosity… and faint admiration.
He inclined his head.
"Then when I return, Princess—we will speak plainly. No games."
She smiled—small, real.
"Safe journey, Elaric Sylvaine."
He stepped onto the sloop.
Nyxara and Zephyr joined him.
The craft shot northward like a dark arrow.
Below Aetherion shrank.
Ahead—the pass burned with war.
The first true test of the Sovereign's growing power waited in blood and fire.
End of Chapter 7.