Everblood Ascendant

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The grand hall stood still, a hush blanketing the space like mist over water.

All eyes locked onto the figure at the entrance—cloaked in travel-worn garments, hair a striking white, eyes gleaming with a golden fire that had never been seen in him before. The torches along the marble pillars flickered as if reacting to his presence.

The silence broke with a single name.

"…Caelan?"

Lord Theron Virelith, head of the Virelith Clan, stared at the young man as if seeing a ghost. His voice, usually thunderous, was barely above a whisper.

Rian Virelith, standing among the inner circle, turned in disbelief.

His mouth fell open.

"You… you're supposed to be—" he stumbled over his words.

Caelan took a step forward, boots echoing against the marble floor. A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips as his golden gaze locked onto his brother's pale face.

"What's wrong, brother?" he said calmly. "You look like you've seen a dead man."

The clan erupted in murmurs.

"Impossible…" "He's alive?" "That can't be Caelan!"

The clan head stepped down from the dais, his aura barely contained. "Explain yourself. We were told you fell during training—by your own brother's report. That you… died."

Caelan's gaze didn't waver. "Then you were told wrong."

"What do you mean?" one elder asked.

He pointed toward Rian. "I mean that my brother and several of our own lured me to the cliffs. They struck while I wasn't ready. Together, they forced me off the edge, thinking that would be the end of me."

Gasps rang out. Some stared at Rian in disbelief, while others shook their heads, unwilling to accept the accusation.

"Lies!" Rian finally burst out. "You're lying to save your pride! We were sparring—"

"No," Caelan cut in, voice low but sharp. "You made sure I was outnumbered. You knew I couldn't fight back."

The room trembled with tension.

Lord Theron's eyes flared with restrained fury. "Rian… is what he says true?"

"I already told you!" Rian shouted. "He lost his footing during a match!"

An elder stepped forward, squinting at Caelan. "Even if you did survive, what happened to your hair? Your eyes? You're… different."

Caelan paused.

He couldn't reveal the truth—not the Everblood, not the dragonblood, not yet.

"I was dying in the wilderness," he said evenly. "But I came across the corpse of a strange beast. I was desperate. I ate a piece of it… and this happened. My body changed."

Some elders nodded, murmuring about ancient beasts and rare transformations. Others remained skeptical.

Theron, however, had heard enough.

His aura flared, crackling in the air. A sudden surge of wind burst from his presence alone. "You… dared betray your own blood?!"

He took a step toward Rian, fury etched into every line of his face.

But before he could raise a hand, Caelan moved in front of him.

"Father. No."

Theron blinked. "He betrayed you. Tried to kill you—!"

"I know," Caelan replied quietly. "But this is mine to settle."

A long pause followed. Then, reluctantly, the clan head stepped back.

Rian, however, only laughed.

"You think you can handle me? You're bluffing." He drew his sword in one smooth motion. "What are you now? Level 5? Bronze Stage? You may've survived, but you're still far below me."

He flourished the blade, confidence flooding back into his voice. "I'm Level 15. You couldn't beat me before, and you definitely can't now."

Caelan met his brother's gaze, golden eyes glowing faintly.

"Try me."

The air grew dense as their auras rose.

Steel gleamed.

And the clash was about to begin.

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