Kaelith’s flagship drifted through the warp currents.

Through the viewport, the familiar Solvaris Nexus Hub shimmered into view, growing larger with each passing moment.

Adrian stood near the viewport, arms crossed, silent as the hub expanded before them.

Kaelith’s voice broke the silence. “We’ve arrived.”

She had escorted him all the way back, an unexpected courtesy that spoke volumes. Her silhouette reflected in the glass, arms folded behind her back.

“Go,” she said. “I’ll publish my witness statement confirming that you fought and killed Veythar. By galactic law, you’re entitled to claim the Emerald Serpent Clan’s resources.”

Adrian turned his head slightly, listening.

“That’s all I’ll do. The rest…” she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, “…is up to you.”

He turned toward her, giving a small nod. “Thank you, Kaelith.”

She didn’t respond, only turned away, looking out through the viewport at the endless sea of stars. Her expression remained unreadable.

He turned and walked toward the exit, Varik following quietly behind. The doors sealed shut behind them with a soft hiss.

Kaelith remained motionless, her reflection ghostly in the glass.

“Don’t disappoint me, Adrian Blackwood,” she murmured to the empty chamber. “The galaxy could use someone like you.”

…

The halls of the Origin Clan bustled with life when Adrian returned. Servants moved through corridors carrying supplies, soldiers trained in open courtyards, and inscribers worked in concentrated silence.

The moment he entered the main hall, everyone gathered. Aurelia, Septimus, Draven, Cassian, Lucian, Elara, Thomas, Kael, and Selena, all waiting for him. Their expressions ranged from relief to concern.

Elara stepped forward first. “Adrian.”

The single word carried weight, maternal worry barely restrained.

“I’m fine, Mother,” Adrian said.

Thomas moved beside her, hand on her shoulder. “What happened?”

The heavy silence in the chamber settled as Adrian began recounting everything. The banquet, his proclamation, the sudden attack by Veythar in the void, the battle that nearly killed him.

Gasps rippled through the group when he described how Veythar had burned his essence seeds for suicidal power.

But what truly stunned them wasn’t the attack, it was what he told them next.

Kaelith’s revelation about dual essences.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

When it was just with Adrian, since they got an explanation of the echo affinity, they could accept it.

But now, knowing that anyone could wield multiple essences, it changed their entire perspective on what they believed.

Aurelia leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “So anyone can… eventually comprehend and wield another essence?”

Adrian nodded. “If they have the time, determination, and talent. But it’s incredibly rare. Most who attempt it fail or spend millennia achieving even basic comprehension.”

Septimus leaned on his staff, his expression troubled. “So the frontlines hold knowledge the galaxy hides.”

“Knowledge the Empires deliberately keep from us,” Selena added, her voice sharp.

Draven exhaled sharply. “If that’s true, we’ve been living in a lie our entire lives.”

Everyone looked at each other, the realization heavy. The structured hierarchy they’d understood, one affinity, one essence, one path, suddenly felt like propaganda.

The galaxy they thought they understood suddenly felt much wider, much darker.

It was Septimus who finally broke the stillness, “It seems like the Aethelian Empire is targeting us.”

Everyone nodded, the pieces falling into place.

Cassian’s quiet voice cut through. “They knew about Veythar’s son.”

“And they knew what Veythar would do,” Lucian added.

The Empire would surely know Adrian killed Veythar’s son. They had recordings, witnesses, and intelligence networks spanning the galaxy.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

And they should also know Veythar was a madman who would hunt Adrian the moment he leaves the frontlines.

Yet they still allowed Veythar to leave the frontlines early.

This wasn’t a coincidence. The Empire deliberately pointed a blade at them.

Aurelia’s gaze hardened. “Veythar wasn’t supposed to leave the frontlines for another month. The Empire knew what he would do when they released him.”

Septimus straightened, his tone cold. “The Aethelian Empire deliberately pointed him at us.”

Adrian’s expression remained calm, but his voice carried quiet fury. “Whatever their reason, whether my speech or refusing their exclusive trade offers, it doesn’t matter. The result is the same.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

“They pointed a blade at us.”

A heavy silence fell again. The implications spread through the room.

Then, Draven muttered, “So what now? Do we fight the empire?”

A sharp thwack! echoed as Septimus smacked him with his staff. “Don’t speak so lightly about suicide, Draven.”

Draven rubbed his head, grumbling, “I was just asking!”

Several exhaled, tension breaking slightly.

Aurelia exhaled, “The Empire can’t act openly against us. If they do, the other empires will move to protect us. The knowledge spheres benefit them all.”

“For now, we’re shielded by mutual interest,” Kael added.

Aurelia nodded. “But we can’t rely on Aethelia’s laws anymore. Their emperor is already testing how far we’ll bend.”

“Which means we must prepare. We should begin building ties with the other empires. Duranthia, Volkrith, Emberion, and Scaelith. As insurance.”

Septimus tapped his staff lightly against the floor. “And in the meantime, we focus on strengthening ourselves. Make the Origin Clan so vital, so powerful, that no empire would dare to touch us.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

Adrian looked around at his people, their determination reflected his own. Faces he trusted, people who’d followed him from Earth into the stars.

“I agree,” he said.

He didn’t say it aloud, but a single thought burned in his chest.

“I can’t leave for the frontlines yet. Not while my clan is still fragile.”

The recent events kept running in his mind, the need for mastery, for experience that only battlefields could forge.

Maybe one day he would go to seek what he lacked, to truly understand combat beyond raw power.

But for now, his responsibility was here.

With them.

…

In the Aethelian imperial palace, inside the throne hall, a Stellar knelt.

His head bowed low, one knee pressed against cold marble.

Before him, seated upon the Throne, the Emperor of Aethelia waited.

“Your Majesty,” the Stellar said, voice steady despite the weight pressing down on him. “Veythar is dead.”

The Emperor’s fingers stilled against the armrest.

“Continue.”

The Stellar lifted his head slightly, meeting the Emperor’s gaze for only a heartbeat before lowering it again. “I observed the entire battle, Adrian Blackwood fought Veythar without aid.”

“The boy held his own?” the Emperor asked, tone mild.

“More than held, Majesty. He matched Veythar blow for blow. Forced him into desperation.”

A faint shift in the Emperor’s posture. Interest, barely perceptible.

The Stellar continued, “Veythar burned his essence seeds to gain the upper hand. His body began liquefying from the strain. But before he could finish Adrian, the Duskbane Matriarch intervened.”

Silence stretched.

The Emperor’s fingers resumed their slow drumming, “Kaelith.”

“Yes, Majesty. She destroyed Veythar and his final attack effortlessly.”

The Emperor’s jaw tightened, just slightly. “If Veythar had noticed her presence earlier…”

“He would have retreated,” the Stellar finished quietly. “Launched a clan war against the Origin clan. It would have proceeded according to your plan.”

The Emperor exhaled, “Truly a madman. But useful while he lasted.”

The Stellar remained motionless, waiting.

The Emperor chuckled, low and dark. “Interesting. Seems like Adrian stumbled upon a unique affinity after all.”

The Stellar hesitated, then spoke carefully. “What should we do now, Majesty? The plan failed. Adrian survived, and Veythar is gone.”

The Emperor settled back into his throne, “Let him enjoy his time for now.”

The Stellar’s head lifted slightly, confusion flickering across his features.

“Let him think his clan is growing,” the Emperor continued, “Let him believe he is irreplaceable. That his knowledge spheres make him untouchable.”

The Stellar’s brow furrowed. “Are we just going to leave him be, Majesty?”

“No.” The word cut sharp. “We will not leave him be.”

The Emperor rose from his throne, and he stepped down from the dais.

“But we will not repeat the same mistake. I will not waste another dual-essence patriarch for this.” He turned, eyes narrowing. “Since the Astral Omen, the frontlines demand more warriors. We cannot spare such strength on internal matters.”

The Stellar bowed deeper. “Then how—”

“We can bleed the boy another way.”

The Emperor stopped before the window, hands clasped behind his back. Below, the capital glittered like a constellation.

“Let him inherit the Emerald Serpent’s scraps. Issue the decree, but delay the transfer. Say we are verifying the ledgers, confirming assets, ensuring proper documentation.” His lips curved faintly. “Make him taste growth, but never let him take a full step without our hand on his shoulder.”

The Stellar straightened slightly. “Yes, Majesty.”

“And then,” the Emperor continued, voice dropping lower, “advance his clan’s rotation for the frontlines. Increase the quotas. Call more men, more supplies.”

Understanding dawned across the Stellar’s face.

“Let the war consume what he gathers,” the Emperor said. “It will look like necessity. Duty. A clan’s obligation to defend the galaxy.”

The Stellar nodded slowly. “The war will take care of it.”

“Precisely.” The Emperor turned from the window, “In the frontlines, slowly break their clan. Assign them to the most dangerous sectors. Give them impossible missions. Let demons do what Veythar could not.”

The Stellar bowed until his forehead nearly touched the floor. “As you command, Majesty.”

A pause.

“But what if the origin clan refuses to join the war?”

“And if the other empires notice our push and question it?” the Stellar asked carefully.

The Emperor’s smile widened, “They will not. No one will shield a clan that refuses the frontlines. No one can.”

“And when his clan breaks,” the Emperor continued, voice barely above a whisper, “when his people die and his resources run dry, when he has nothing left but his knowledge and his pride…”

“…we will be the ones to extend our hand.”

The Stellar remained motionless, head bowed. “I understand, Majesty.”

The Emperor waved dismissively. “Go. Begin the arrangements. Make it look natural. The galaxy must believe we are simply fulfilling our duty.”

“Yes, Majesty.” The Stellar rose smoothly, backing toward the chamber doors without turning.

The massive doors sealed shut with a resonant boom.

Alone, the Emperor returned to his throne, his fingers resumed their slow drumming, echoing through empty space.

“Grow,” he whispered to the silent chamber, eyes distant. “Grow as much as you like. Build your little clan. Spread your knowledge. Let the galaxy believe you are untouchable.”

“The frontlines will strip you bare. And when nothing remains…”

The drumming stopped.

“…you will kneel.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep