Kael’s gaze lingered on Thomas, still radiant with the glow of his newly awakened seed. He exhaled softly, not in envy, but in reflection.

Even after receiving one of Adrian’s knowledge spheres, he couldn’t yet bloom his own essence. Even the basics were too vast, too heavy to fully absorb in just a day.

This, more than anything, showed him how difficult the space concepts truly were.

He smiled faintly, his calm voice echoing in the chamber. “I’ll get there too. It’s only been a day.”

He was right. It had only been a single day since they arrived at the hub. But what a day it was.

In just a span of a day, many things happened. Adrian ascended to the stellar stage, killed a patriarch, founded a clan, and changed the fate of twenty-three star systems.

The Origin Clan was born out of these impossible miracles. Even for the celestial eleven, this was too much to process.

Adrian stood near the chamber door, quietly observing everyone. Kael meditating. Thomas still studying the faint flickers of his new flame.

Elara and Selena conversed softly with Aurelia. Draven, predictably, was stretching and complaining with Cassian and Septimus.

Lucian just stood silent as always. His presence felt like a shadow, comforting in its consistency.

Adrian saw that Kael, Elara, and Selena were still bound at S-rank. He knew it wasn’t enough for him alone to keep growing.

Kael just needed time. For the rest, Adrian could already see the pieces falling into place, the library filled with knowledge, the resources they had inherited.

But not today. He smiled, a small, tired smile.

His body was at full strength. The Source form restored his broken body completely in the fight.

Yet his mind was weary. The comprehension, the battle, the pressure of leadership, it all pressed down on him.

“Enough for today.”

Everyone looked at him. Even Aurelia raised an eyebrow, she rarely heard him sound tired.

“Varik.” Adrian’s tone softened slightly.

The administrator immediately stepped forward. “Yes, my lord?”

“Show us the main residence.” Adrian’s shoulders carried invisible weight.

Varik bowed deeply. “As you command.”

…

They walked together through the quiet streets of the clan territory. The sun of the hub’s simulated sky was setting, painting the entire horizon in copper and gold.

Servants and soldiers stopped what they were doing as the new rulers passed. Most bowed, some simply stood in stunned silence, still unable to process that the Drakenholt line was gone.

Adrian felt their gazes, their fear, their curiosity. These people had known only chains and tribute their whole lives.

They didn’t yet understand freedom. Time would teach them what words could not.

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Soon, they arrived at a massive tower building. From the outside, it looked like a structure carved out of the night itself, sleek black metal rising toward the heavens.

Runes crawled across its sides in faint crimson. It radiated quiet power and prestige, a monument to dominance.

“This was the residence of the Drakenholt royal line.” Varik’s voice carried reverence mixed with apprehension.

“The Patriarch, his family, and the elders.” His gesture encompassed the towering structure.

Draven whistled low. “By the stars… I could fit a whole city inside that thing.”

Even Lucian spoke. “It’s too much for one man. Fitting for a clan, though.”

Aurelia’s gaze was quiet, her tone unreadable. “From this day onward, it’s no longer theirs.”

They entered the tower.

The halls inside were vast and silent. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and blood, but every trace of the Drakenholt family had already been scrubbed away by the vassals.

The walls gleamed anew, etched with faint symbols of protection and flame, remnants of a lineage now extinguished.

Varik gestured toward the grand staircase that spiraled upward into darkness. “The main chambers occupy the upper floors, my lord. The lower levels house training facilities and storage.”

Adrian looked around. The structure was beautiful in its own way, cold, proud, built to intimidate rather than inspire. But it was now his responsibility to fill these halls with purpose, not fear.

Thomas whistled low, his voice carrying in the empty space. “This place could house half of Earth’s population.”

“And probably did house half their prisoners,” Elara muttered, her golden eyes scanning the walls with distaste.

He turned to the others. “Everyone, take whichever quarters you like. This tower belongs to all of us now.”

Draven immediately threw his hands up. “Dibs on the best room near the kitchens!”

Aurelia rolled her eyes. “You’re choosing based on food proximity?”

Draven grinned. “You fight better on a full stomach.”

Cassian shook his head, smirking faintly. “Some things never change.”

Spetimus chuckled softly, a rare sound. “Let him have it. He’s earned his meals today.”

Laughter rippled through the group as they began exploring, the tension of the past days finally easing. Septimus immediately veered toward what looked like an inscriber wing, while Selena studied the runes carved into the doorframes.

For the first time since arriving in the galaxy, they felt something resembling peace. The weight of constant battle and political maneuvering lifted from their shoulders.

Lucian paused near a window, his silent presence somehow warmer in the tower’s confines. “It’s strange. Yesterday this place belonged to our enemies.”

“Today it’s home,” Aurelia replied simply.

…

Later that night, Adrian reached his quarters, the topmost floor of the tower, the old Patriarch’s chambers. The heavy doors swung open at his touch, revealing a space that dwarfed most buildings back on Earth.

He stepped inside and paused.

The first thing he saw was the glass wall, a panoramic view stretching across the entire Origin territory. The artificial lights of the hub twinkled like stars below, while beyond that, the real stars of the galaxy stretched into infinity.

Through that glass, he could see the people, small, moving dots scattered across the land. The once-hostile Drakenholt domain now pulsed with new life. Soldiers walked without fear. Families lingered in the streets, free for the first time in generations.

Children played in courtyards where once only silence had reigned. Market stalls remained open past curfew, their owners no longer afraid of arbitrary punishment.

He rested his palm against the glass.

Below, under his first decree, the people were already beginning to change. The rigid formations of fear were dissolving into something more organic, more alive.

The sight reminded him of Earth, the view from the top of the Grand Rune Hall, the city lights beneath him, the sound of hope rising from the streets below. The memory struck him with unexpected force.

It hadn’t even been half a year since he left. Yet it felt like a lifetime.

He whispered to himself, voice barely audible, “I’ll make this one worthy too.”

He walked toward the bed and sat down. Beings with essence didn’t need sleep anymore. Their bodies, refined by essence, no longer required it.

But tonight, he didn’t want to think about power or responsibility or the galaxy.

He wanted, just for a few hours, to feel human again.

He lay back on the soft bedding, eyes closing. The distant sounds of his companions settling in drifted through the walls, Draven’s booming laughter, Septimus muttering about reorganizing something, the soft hum of conversation.

Outside, the Origin Clan’s banners fluttered for the first time in the artificial wind of the hub. The crimson and gold of Drakenholt had been torn down, replaced by something new.

And high above, as the stars of the artificial sky shimmered faintly, Adrian, the first Patriarch of the Origin Clan, drifted into the first peaceful sleep he’d had since leaving Earth.

For once, no enemies lurked in the shadows, no battles awaited at dawn.

That night, no visions came, no omens, no warnings. Just silence, the silence of a galaxy catching its breath before destiny’s next storm.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep