Chapter 17: Seventh Young Master arrives

The dark-steel carriage decelerated sharply, its iron-rimmed wheels grinding against the cobblestones as it brought the retinue to a smooth halt.

Standing before the massive, rune-engraved outer barrier were four heavily armed gate guards draped in thick steel armor, their spears lowered in a precise defensive formation.

High above on the hundred-foot granite ramparts, sharp-eyed watchmen leaned over the battlements, their hands resting on heavy heavy ballistas, ready to engage any unauthorized force at a moment’s notice.

One of the gate captains took three firm steps forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his longsword as he approached the thirty mounted riders surrounding the dark-steel carriage.

However, as the captain drew closer, his breath hitched in his throat.

His eyes locked onto the black, light-absorbing metal of the carriage—a rare, precious material reserved exclusively for direct members of the ducal house.

Before the captain could speak, two mounted guards at the front of the escort raised two heavy silk banners into the night air.

The first flag unrolled with a crisp snap, displaying the terrifying, stylized crimson dragon emblem of the House of Darkstar.

The second flag unfurled right beside it, bearing the elegant white rose insignia of the Lucerion Barony.

The moment the dual flags caught the wind, the gate guards instantly stiffened.

The captain snapped his weapon into a salute, dropping cleanly onto one knee, while his three subordinates frantically followed suit, pressing their foreheads toward the stone road.

High above on the battlements, the watchmen immediately raised their spears, standing at absolute attention.

A true member of the Darkstarian bloodline had returned to the capital.

And by the mark of the white rose, every soldier present knew precisely who sat inside that carriage:

The Seventh Young Master, Baron Craig von Darkstar, arriving for the sacred Dragon’s Calling ceremony.

"Passage granted to the Lord Baron!" the captain bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Open the outer gates!"

RUMBLE!

The massive, hundred-foot metallic outer gates groaned as ancient gears turned, swinging wide open to reveal the glowing arteries of the capital.

The carriage rolled forward without stopping, flanked by the thirty silver-armored horsemen and the proudly swaying banners.

They entered the sprawling Outer Domain of the City of Dragons—an incomprehensibly vast territory covering over ten thousand five hundred square kilometers.

Millions of commoners, merchants, and foreign travelers lived and worked within this sector.

Night had fallen, yet the paved avenues were ablaze with glowing mana lamps, illuminating bustling tavern districts, towering stone tenements, and endless commercial quarters.

To the south lay the legendary Ydaren Global Market, a colossal trading hub covering dozens of square miles and widely recognized as one of the largest marketplaces across the entire Western Continent.

Yet, Craig’s party didn’t slow down to admire the bustling commerce.

They pressed straight through the central avenues, heading deeper toward the heart of the metropolis: the Inner Domain.

Separated from the outer sector by a second ring of massive obsidian walls, the Inner Domain spanned over five thousand square kilometers of pristine, manicured land.

It was the exclusive sanctuary of high nobility, imperial government offices, and the true seat of the Rynchester Ducal House.

Security here was absolute. Surveillance arrays hummed quietly in the air, and top-class Superhumans patrolled every major junction.

Within this elite sanctuary resided the Darkstar House’s ten vassal families, along with hundreds of lesser nobles who had built magnificent castles across the green hills.

Yet, the true marvel of the Inner Domain was the Temple of Dragons.

A vast, volcanic sanctuary that consumed over twenty percent of the inner landmass, dedicated entirely to the breeding, training, and housing of dozens of majestic dragons owned by the ducal family.

As an ancient Great House, House Darkstar thrived in unfathomable wealth.

Every adult member owned a personal fortress, with high-ranking elders possessing multiple estates across the Duchy’s foreign territories.

Craig’s carriage traveled straight through the inner noble avenues, heading toward the pinnacle of power:

The Palace of Crimson.

It took several hours of continuous travel to cross the vast distances of both domains.

By the time the dark-steel carriage finally pulled up to the high gates of the grand palace, the sky had turned pitch-black, the hour rapidly approaching midnight.

Inside the grand Palace of Crimson, deep within a sprawling fifty-bedroom castle that had stood for three thousand years, the central dining hall was filled with an imposing atmosphere.

A long, polished mahogany table stretched down the middle of the room, flanked by over two dozen high-backed velvet chairs.

Every single seat was occupied by a high-ranking member of the Darkstar bloodline—elders with stern faces, middle-aged battle commanders, and young teenage candidates.

Five of the seven direct successor candidates were present, having gathered for the mandatory ceremonial dinner held on the eve of the Dragon’s Calling.

All were dressed in rich, noble silks of crimson and obsidian, their features defined by the absolute traits of their ancestral blood: striking crimson hair and cold, glowing golden eyes.

Most of them sitted were Sword Masters and Sword Grandmasters.

With only a few ascending into the realm of Sword Dominators.

The long table groaned under the weight of an aristocratic feast—exotic seasoned rice, steaming vegetable stews, candied fruits from the southern provinces, and fine vintage wines.

At the absolute center of the spread rested a whole roasted fire-lamb, its glazed hide glistening under the warm light of floating crystal chandeliers.

Yet, despite the luxurious food, the atmosphere was thick with silent, razor-sharp tension.

The family members ate in silence, their predatory eyes subtly shifting, evaluating and measuring one another.

Sitting at the absolute head of the table, leaning back comfortably in a carved obsidian throne, was the Patriarch himself.

Oscar von Darkstar.

He possessed vibrant, deep crimson hair and dark golden eyes that seemed to pierce through the dark.

Despite being over fifty years old, he carried the smooth, flawless face of a man in his late twenties.

A physical testament to his absolute martial rank.

He radiated a calm, suffocating aura that naturally suppressed the air around him.

He was a Sword Demigod—one of only seven Rankers in the entire Four Continents to reach such a divine realm of swordsmanship.

For most rankers, the highest realm they could reach is the Sword Master class, making those who breakthrough their walls and transcend into the Sword Grandmaster class even rarer.

The Sword Demigod’s class is considered the highest level a Ranker could climb in this present world.

They were those who have grasped the essence of divinity and honed their blades and talents to reach its highest form.

Calamity devouring superhumans.

Entities who could cut down a 5th-tier Children of the Abyss and contend with 6th-tier Children of the Abyss without breaking a sweat.

That is who Sword Demigods were.

Oscar casually rested his cheek against his knuckles, watching his squabbling, overly competitive children and elders with cool, unblinking indifference.

Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the far end of the dining hall swung open with a deep, echoing thud.

A elderly man with silver-white hair, dressed in a immaculate black head-butler’s coat, stepped into the room.

He walked with silent, measured strides, coming to a halt ten paces from the foot of the long table before dropping into a deep, respectful bow.

Oscar didn’t shift his posture.

He merely raised an eyebrow, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room like a low, rolling rumble.

"What is it, Edgar?" Oscar asked calmly.

His voice caused everyone to shudder, overwhelmed by his terrifying aura.

"What gives you the audacity to interrupt my dinner?"

Head Butler Edgar kept his head bowed with a gentle smile written on his lips, his voice smooth and steady as he delivered his report.

"Apologies for the intrusion, Lord Patriarch," Head Butler Edgar spoke, his voice echoing clearly across the silent hall.

"I have come to announce that the Seventh Young Master, Baron Craig von Darkstar... has arrived at the palace."