The attack came without warning.
Thousands of needles shot forward, each tip ignited with a flickering black flame.
They streaked toward the laughing elders like a rain of death.
The aura carried by those needles was unmistakable.
It was killing intent—pure and cold.
Every elder felt a chill crawl down their spine.
Laughter died instantly.
Mockery vanished.
Fear replaced it.
The hall, moments ago filled with jeers, was now steeped in deathly silence.
The king inhaled sharply.
Elder Poko froze.
Everyone was stunned.
Poko's gaze snapped toward the phantom above William.
This… isn't the boy's doing.
It's acting on instinct.
His heart skipped.
A semi-sentient bloodline? Impossible… I've never heard of such a thing.
His eyes narrowed.
A caterpillar? No… this thing awakened only moments ago, yet it already possesses killing awareness.
Then it hit him.
His breath caught.
A mutation…
Cold sweat formed on his back.
I can't grade this. If outsiders learn of it, trouble will follow. I must lie.
The elders who had mocked William moments earlier now felt true terror.
They had lived through countless life-and-death battles.
They knew this wasn't a bluff.
This was real.
Elder Gyro reacted first.
He slammed his palm forward.
A dome of blazing red fire erupted, shielding him as the needles collided against it.
One by one, the other elders followed.
More than ten defensive layers formed in an instant.
The needles were stopped midair—
Yet the suffocating sense of death remained.
Gyro shouted, his voice sharp with anger and fear.
"Seventh Prince! Have you lost your mind?! How dare you attack your elders!"
William glanced at him calmly—
As if an old dog were barking at the wrong target.
"Stop this immediately!" Gyro continued. "You will be charged for violating royal etiquette!"
His words dripped with venom.
Everyone knew the truth.
This wasn't William's doing.
Yet the king remained silent.
Then—
A hand rested on the hilt of a sword. Shanon Drake stepped forward, a grin playing on his lips.
"Shut your mouth, Gyro," he said lightly.
"Or I'll shut it for you."
"Shanon!" someone shouted.
It was Sebastian, Gyro's fourth son.
"My father is your elder!" Sebastian barked. "Show some respect—or you'll be charged with offending an elder as well!"
Shanon didn't even look at him.
He casually flicked his palm through the air.
Smack!
A sharp, crisp sound echoed as Sebastian was sent flying backward. His body crashed to the ground, and he lost consciousness on the spot.
"All bark," Shanon sneered, "and no teeth."
Gyro rushed forward, quickly feeding his son a pill before pointing at Shanon with trembling rage.
"You—!"
"Me?" Shanon laughed. "You, I can't touch—because that would violate royal etiquette."
He glanced at the unconscious Sebastian.
"But him? Same generation. No rules broken."
He shrugged indifferently.
"If you want someone to blame, blame your weak son. He couldn't even endure a single slap. What a disappointment."
Pandit smiled faintly.
"That's enough, Shanon," King Midas finally said, his voice calm but firm.
"Let's end this farce."
He turned toward Pandit.
"Can you settle this?"
"I'll do my best," Pandit replied.
He stepped forward onto the stage, offered William a brief smile, then sat before him and began chanting softly.
William glanced at his uncle, then at the phantom hovering in the air.
What's wrong with this thing?
Dragon—explain.
A familiar chuckle echoed inside his mind.
"Heh heh… little mouse," the black dragon said. "There's an old saying—never provoke a dragon, even when it's newly born."
"That's exactly what's happening here."
"And what's the point if I can't control it?" William asked.
"It's already under your control," the dragon replied calmly. "It's just sensitive. Newly awakened. Surrounded by hostility."
"Relax. This won't happen again."
William felt a sharp sensation as the chanting filled the air.
His chant is far more soothing than his son's, William thought.
But this isn't a Buddhist chant… interesting.
The tense phantom trembled, then gradually calmed under the influence of the chant. It chirped softly once before diving back into William's chest.
The sight stunned everyone present.
Normally, a bloodline phantom vanished only after the user voluntarily halted the awakening.
But this one returned to its host on its own—before William had done anything.
Moments later, the needles suspended in the air lost their control and clattered to the ground.
Elder Poko raised his hand. The needles immediately flew back into his grasp, slipping neatly into his sachet.
Feeling countless gazes fixed on him, Poko let out a quiet sigh and announced aloud,
"Prince William Drake—
a dragon youngling bloodline.
Grade… Zero."
No one believed it.
Several elders had just brushed against death moments ago. Whatever that bloodline was, it was not something to be underestimated.
Elder Gyro snorted. "Grade Zero. Trash will always be trash."
Yet deep inside, his thoughts were already racing—schemes forming, plans sharpening. Whether by killing or controlling the boy, he would not let this matter rest.
This time, no one from the First Drake line responded.
There was no need.
Words meant nothing now.
Even Shanon merely smiled and exchanged glances with his brothers. The others returned the smile.
That silent exchange made Gyro's expression darken. He turned away with a snort.
Elder Poko stepped forward, clasped his hands, and bowed.
"My task here is complete, Your Majesty. Once again, congratulations on producing such outstanding talents. I believe the Drake Clan will shine even brighter in the future."
"Thank you, Elder Poko," King Midas replied. "Once again, I am indebted to the Blood Awakening Tower."
Poko shook his head. "No debt remains. My services were already paid for."
"I will take my leave."
The king rose, and so did everyone else in the hall. He gestured courteously.
Poko returned the gesture, then swept his gaze over the gathered youths. His eyes lingered briefly on Ashley—then paused for a moment longer on William and Silver.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Then he turned and departed, the rhythmic tap of his walking stick echoing against the stone floor.