The imperial audience ended without ceremony.
No dramatic dismissal.
No raised voices.
Just the quiet understanding that something irreversible had begun.
The massive doors of the chamber opened slowly behind us as we stepped back into the upper halls of the palace. White marble stretched endlessly beneath golden chandeliers while imperial servants moved with rehearsed precision through the corridors.
Yet despite the beauty surrounding us—
the atmosphere felt heavier now.
Different.
Because people were staring.
Not openly.
Never openly.
But enough.
Servants lowered their heads too quickly as I passed. Lesser nobles standing along the distant balconies whispered behind folded fans. Knights of the imperial guard subtly shifted their posture the moment my gaze drifted toward them.
The rumors had already spread.
The shattered crystal.
The subclass awakening.
The imperial summons.
Fast.
Too fast.
I exhaled quietly while walking beside Father through the palace corridor.
Lucien stretched both arms behind his head lazily.
"Well," he said cheerfully, "that went significantly better than expected."
Selene looked horrified.
"That was better to you?"
"Nobody died," Lucien answered immediately.
Ceal adjusted his glasses without looking up from the floating projection screen hovering above his palm.
"By Ashford standards," he added calmly, "that qualifies as diplomatic success."
I was beginning to understand why other noble houses feared us.
Father remained silent ahead of us, his long black coat shifting behind him with each measured step. The imperial guards stationed throughout the halls instinctively straightened whenever he passed.
Not respect alone.
Instinct.
Predators recognized predators.
The palace eventually opened into the outer imperial courtyard where several black Ashford carriages already waited beneath the evening sky.
The sun was beginning to descend beyond the distant walls of Elarion, painting the horizon crimson and gold.
For a brief moment, the city looked like it had been set ablaze.
Beautiful.
Ancient.
Alive.
Lucien stepped beside me as attendants prepared the carriage.
"You handled yourself well," he said suddenly.
I glanced sideways.
"That almost sounded sincere."
"It wasn't," he replied immediately. "I'm still disappointed you didn't blow up more of the palace."
I sighed.
"You know," Lucien continued casually, "the scholars are terrified of you now."
"They're scholars. They're terrified of everything."
"No," he corrected with a grin. "This is different."
For once, the amusement in his expression faded slightly.
"They don't fear power, Astaroso. Kaligon sees monsters every day."
His golden eyes narrowed faintly toward the imperial palace behind us.
"They fear things they cannot categorize."
That sentence lingered longer than I expected.
Because he was right.
The problem wasn't that I was strong.
The problem was that the System itself had reacted to me.
And in a world governed by inherited structure, measured progression, and established ascension pathways—
an irregularity was dangerous.
The carriage doors opened.
Father entered first.
The rest of us followed shortly after.
The interior was spacious, lined with black velvet seats and faintly glowing mana inscriptions carved into the walls for stabilization during movement.
As the carriage began moving through the capital, silence settled briefly inside.
Outside the windows, Elarion unfolded beneath the deepening evening sky.
The streets remained lively despite the late hour.
Soldiers trained openly within public squares while merchants continued selling enchanted equipment beneath glowing mana lanterns. Children chased one another between crowded streets carrying wooden practice swords far too large for their bodies.
This city truly was different from the rest of Peroza.
Elarion did not glorify nobility.
It glorified strength.
Every citizen understood combat.
Every district respected power.
Even the architecture reflected it.
Massive fortress-like buildings towered over the streets while giant banners bearing the Ashford crest hung proudly from stone walls blackened by centuries of warfare.
The Red Banner City.
Heart of Peroza's military might.
And home to monsters pretending to be human.
Father finally spoke.
"Your synchronization remains incomplete."
Straight to the point.
I looked toward him carefully.
"The Emperor implied something similar."
"He knows enough to recognize instability," Father answered calmly. "Not enough to understand its source."
Ceal finally lowered his projection screen.
"The issue is not merely your subclass," he explained. "It is the timing."
I already understood that much.
A subclass before reaching Five-Star Awakening should have been impossible.
Or fatal.
Ceal continued calmly.
"Under normal circumstances, the strain caused by simultaneous class layering would destroy the mana channels of the recipient during awakening."
Selene looked toward me quietly.
"But it didn't."
"No," Father answered.
The carriage grew slightly quieter after that.
Lucien leaned against the window lazily.
"Personally," he said, "I think the interesting part is the dragon mana."
My gaze shifted toward him.
Father's eyes narrowed slightly.
"There was enough pressure leaking from your awakening," Lucien continued, "that half the arena thought an actual draconic manifestation had appeared."
"…You sensed that much?"
Lucien grinned.
"Ive fought a dragon once , young it may have been but a dragon none the less".
That casual statement would probably traumatize normal people.
Father finally looked directly at me.
"The Bloodline Pool will stabilize the evolution already occurring within your body."
I stayed silent.
Father continued calmly.
"The Dragon Knight class naturally carries traces of draconic inheritance. However…"
For the first time since leaving the palace—
his voice lowered slightly.
"What manifested within you was far denser than expected."
Even Ceal's expression sharpened slightly at that.
Lucien folded his arms behind his head again.
"Translation," he said helpfully, "your bloodline is absurd."
Selene smacked his arm immediately.
"Ow."
"You are not helping."
"I am helping emotionally."
"You are literally making it worse."
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Father ignored them both.
"The Ashford Bloodline Pool was created long before Peroza unified the three nations," he explained. "Its primary purpose is refinement."
I listened carefully.
"It awakens dormant bloodlines," Ceal added. "Purifies unstable inheritances. Removes impurities accumulated through generations."
"And elevates compatibility," Father finished.
The carriage rolled quietly through the streets as mana lanterns flickered beyond the windows.
Then Father said something that made the atmosphere inside shift instantly.
"If your bloodline reacts violently within the pool…"
He paused briefly.
"…suppression may become necessary."
Silence.
Lucien suddenly looked interested again.
"Try not to become a dragon before dinner, little brother."
Selene buried her face in her hands.
Ceal sighed deeply.
And somewhere beneath the humor—
I felt it again.
That strange pulse within my veins.
Warm.
Ancient.
Watching.
The golden lines beneath my skin flickered faintly for only a second.
But Father noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His crimson eyes remained fixed on me for several long moments before finally turning toward the window overlooking Elarion.
The city lights burned beneath the crimson sky like scattered embers.
Then quietly—
almost thoughtfully—
Kaelith Draven Ashford spoke.
"…I wonder which one you inherited."