After the first shockwave of the Knowledge Spheres, the entire Origin Clan had turned into a living machine of creation.

Every hall echoed with discussion. Soldiers practiced the Imprint Skill in training yards, spheres flickering between their palms.

Across the twenty-three star systems under their control, people once enslaved by the Drakenholt were now being trained to produce knowledge.

Farmers who’d never touched mana learned basic concepts. Miners discovered elemental affinities they’d suppressed for decades. Children watched their parents glow with comprehension for the first time.

Adrian stood at the upper balcony of the clan hall, observing the transformation below.

He had expanded the Imprint Skill beyond the first circle of producers. Trusted candidates were selected from the armies and from loyal families within the star systems.

Each one received a sphere, learned their specific affinity, and began reproducing the spheres themselves.

The process became a loop. Knowledge teaching knowledge.

And because of that, Adrian gained something unexpected.

Through those who had rare affinities that even lacked in the library, he received their imprinted knowledge back.

When he reviewed the new production logs, one name stood out, Life Concept: Basic Galactic Understanding.

He smiled faintly. “Life.”

It was only one new concept now. The result of hundreds of minds contributing what they knew, however small.

But soon, with thousands producing and exchanging, his reach would extend across every element in the galaxy.

Varik approached, as always, with his Node active and reports flickering across it.

“My lord.” His voice carried a wide grin. “Our total income from the Solvaris Nexus Hub stores has crossed fifty million mana crystals.”

Even seasoned ministers in the empire would have needed years to accumulate that sum.

Adrian nodded, but instead of celebrating, he immediately issued new orders.

“Allocate five percent to research expansion. We’ll need more Imprint scholars.”

Varik’s fingers moved across his Node, recording every word.

“Send ten percent to infrastructure. Rebuild the collapsed transport hubs in the outer systems.”

“Repair the damaged agricultural sectors. Priority to volcanic worlds that were stripped bare.”

“And the rest.” Adrian paused, eyes distant. “Redirect to civil reconstruction. Houses and protection wards for the families who’ve suffered under Drakenholt.”

He turned slightly, watching the lights of distant settlements flicker to life.

“Establish education nodes on every inhabited world. No child should grow without learning.”

Varik blinked, caught off guard. “My lord, you mean to spend it all?”

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Most clans would hoard wealth and spend on their own cultivation. Build private domains. Commission legendary formations and weapons.

Adrian turned to face him. “If we only hoard, we become another Drakenholt. The Origin Clan will rise with its people, not over them.”

For a long moment, Varik said nothing.

Then he bowed, his voice trembling slightly. “As you command, my lord. I will see it done.”

The older man’s hands shook as he adjusted his Node, sending the orders across the network.

Adrian noticed but said nothing.

…

Hours later, as the day’s cycle drew to a close, Varik’s Node flickered again.

This time with a signal bearing the Imperial crest of Aethelia.

“My lord.” Varik’s voice sharpened. “A message from the Imperial Overseer. He’s requesting an immediate audience.”

Adrian gestured. “Send him in.”

Moments later, the Overseer entered the clan hall. The same one who had once declared Adrian’s duel with Tharion.

How quickly things had changed.

Only a week ago, this same man had stood above them, delivering decrees with cold authority.

The Imperial Overseer bowed with formal respect. “Lord Adrian, by command of His Majesty the Emperor, you are hereby invited to the Grand Imperial Banquet tomorrow, in the capital of Aethelia.”

His tone was diplomatic, but even Adrian could sense the unease beneath it.

The weight of what Origin represented now hung between them.

Adrian rested his hands on the throne’s armrest. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, my lord. His Majesty wishes to personally honor the Origin Clan’s rise.”

Varik shifted beside Adrian, his expression unreadable.

Adrian considered it.

He had more pressing matters, production expansions, new store contracts to arrange, hundreds of production lines to stabilize.

But securing Aethelia’s protection was now as crucial as the others.

Refusing the Emperor’s invitation wasn’t an option.

He inclined his head. “Tell His Majesty I will attend.”

The Overseer bowed again, visibly relieved. “He will be most pleased, my lord.”

Then he departed, his retinue vanishing through the shimmering archway.

The hall fell silent once more.

Once the Overseer departed, Adrian summoned his core members.

Within minutes, they assembled in the clan hall. Aurelia arrived first, followed by Septimus, Draven, and the others.

Aurelia crossed her arms, already frowning. “Tomorrow? That’s unusually sudden. The Emperor is moving fast.”

Septimus stroked his beard. “It’s strategic. The banquet will have representatives from every major clan in Aethelia. It’s not only an honor… it’s a test.”

Draven chuckled. “So, play nice, shake hands, and don’t punch anyone?”

His scarred face twisted into a grin, though his tone carried genuine warning.

“Exactly that,” Septimus muttered.

Aurelia added softly, “Remember, Adrian. You’re not a warrior there, you’re a Patriarch. The galaxy will see the Origin Clan through your behavior.”

Septimus nodded. “Establish contacts, secure trade routes beyond the Solvaris Hub. If you can make alliances with other clans, our reach will expand across the empire.”

He gestured at the projection hovering between them, showing Aethelia’s vast network of clans.

Adrian nodded. “Understood.”

“I’ll take Varik with me. The rest of you must stay here and continue the work.”

No one objected. They trusted him, and he trusted them.

Draven clasped Adrian’s shoulder briefly before stepping back. Thomas and Elara gave a simple nod.

…

Later that day, Adrian and Varik walked across the docking platform.

Rows of old Drakenholt ships lined the area.

Varik sighed. “Most of the fleet was taken by the Drakenholt, who fled the Hub, my lord. These are the few that’re left.”

His voice carried bitter resignation. Some clan assets had been stripped before Adrian could claim them.

Adrian looked over them, stopping by a smaller, sleek ship.

Its hull gleamed black, unmarked by battle. A scout vessel, built for speed rather than war.

“This one will do.”

They boarded, and the hatch sealed behind them.

The interior was sparse but functional. Navigation console, basic seating, minimal crew quarters.

Varik moved to the controls. “Coordinates set. Aethelia Prime, the Imperial Capital.”

His fingers danced across the interface, inputting the route through the Nexus network.

The ship’s AI responded. “Destination confirmed. Estimated travel time, four hours, twelve minutes.”

The ship lifted smoothly, thrusters roaring to life. Through the viewport, the Hub shrank into the distance, its lights fading into the swirling brilliance of the Nexus Gate ahead.

Adrian settled into the co-pilot seat, watching the stars shift as they accelerated.

Varik glanced back at Adrian, who was watching the starfield unfold before them.

“With the Nexus Routes, we’ll reach the capital in hours, my lord.”

His tone carried a hint of nervousness. He’d never attended an Imperial function before.

Adrian nodded silently, his gaze steady on the vortex of light forming ahead.

The Nexus flared, and the ship was drawn into its heart, vanishing into the fold of space.

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