Ancestral Lineage

With the go-ahead from Ethan, the ball officially started. Dancers and musicians played songs of ancient times, beautiful, serene songs fit for balls, not the new kind with pop and funk. The kind to make even a dragon’s scale crack from sound waves.

The music they played was soft, lightening a bit of the tension in the place.

People stared at Ethan and his family, who were seated high up, looking at them dance and socialize. Some were a bit uncomfortable, others nonchalant. But the dragons, known for their pride, were really pissed and were barely holding themself back. Ethan, of course, saw this and just smiled.

He knew exactly why they were in Anbord, because he never sent an invitation. He knew that the Dragon Emperor felt his position as the strongest being in Debranlith threatened by him, and so he was planning a war. He knew that Amara was sent here to spy on him and, if possible, assassinate him, but she came to find love instead.

His wife, Barki, was threatened to return with Amara, and he knew they would be punished for life, worse, killed.

Sol and Aokuruyu were here to get the final information Fafnir needed to attack Anbord, but they didn’t know that the strongest being wasn’t their emperor, that egoistic overgrown lizard, but two beings staring at each other like they had a grudge with the red wine in their middle; Lilith and Leviathan.

Funny how these two powerful beings weren’t even worried about world domination or positions, but about who gets more red wine. And staring at Lilith, Ethan felt something complete in his heart and his very existence... like something he’d been missing for a very long time.

"Lilith Geraldine Beaumains... a human name Lucifer picked for her. I’m glad..." Ethan said to himself, but all his wives heard it, and they all knew what he was feeling. They could all feel it.

His gaze drifted to another person who seemed to be exempt from everything going on. She was talking with the mysterious person in all black. Ethan smiled again at this.

Kraken and... Xander.

Another soulmate and a son through Fate. How did he know Xander?

He got a message during his final evolution to become a primord. It came with his horns, or rather, Lucifer’s horns. And with it, he saw his other son.

"And to think four of the Sins would be from my own family..." He said again, absentmindedly drinking his wine from his chalice. The liquid flowed down his throat, cold and smooth and sweet. Less alcohol, more sweetness.

"Honey... it’s time," Harley said softly to Ethan, her gaze full of love and support.

Ethan smiled at his first wife, his empress, and, with a calm face, stood up and walked up the imperial dias, his steps slow and elegant, like he walking down a red carpet.

The music gradually softened till it disappeared. The hall slowly became quiet, every gaze on Ethan, some trying to intimidate him, others curious.

Ethan took all this in, his golden eye glowing under his hair, secretly appraising everyone there. With a calm smile, he spoke:

"Greetings once again, honoured guests of the empire of Anbord. You are all warmly welcome. I believe your estates were to your liking.

This evening has been... eventful. In the sense that you all made it possible. I am really grateful."

He bowed slightly.

A move that shocked a lot of people there. Excluding his family and Lilith, who kind of knew him, the rest were shocked.

No emperor bows!

It was an unwritten statement. Something ingrained from long since. An emperor, more so of the Saint Realm, never bowed to anyone. Not even if the person was a level above them.

But... the emperor of Anbord had bowed. To them.

Some were just escorts, some were delegates, some were servants, some were lowly nobles... but an emperor had bowed to them.

The dragons, seeing this, scoffed in disdain, their faces not even bothering to hide the disgust they felt.

But the next instant, Ethan completely changed.

He straightened from the bow, all the warmth he had shown earlier vanishing.

It didn’t fade... it ended.

What replaced it was not hostility, nor was it rage. It was far worse.

Clarity.

His aura unfolded fully, no longer restrained by courtesy or ceremony. It did not crash outward like a storm. It expanded with deliberate inevitability, filling the ballroom, seeping through walls, sinking into the foundations of the imperial estate itself. Even the outer courtyards, the skies above, the ley-lines beneath the capital felt it settle into place.

It was heavy.

Not the crushing weight of brute power, but the weight of consequence.

Those who tried to resist found nothing to push against. No surface. No edge. Their defenses slid uselessly, like hands grasping fog that had decided it was solid today. The sensation was profoundly disorienting, as though the rules they had lived by had been quietly rewritten mid-breath.

Judgement brushed against every mind. Not condemnation.

But... assessment.

Each guest felt it differently.

Nobles saw moments they had buried beneath silk and titles resurface uninvited. Warriors felt phantom echoes of battles they had survived by luck rather than merit. Kings tasted futures that could still fracture if the wrong choice was made tonight.

And layered atop that was something stranger.

An illusion.

Not false images, not fabricated dreams, but perspectives. Each person was shown themselves as they were perceived by the world, stripped of justification, stripped of narrative. Some flinched. Others froze. A few, terrifyingly few, smiled.

Lilith inhaled sharply, fingers digging into her armrest as heat flooded her veins. Her pupils dilated, breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with fear. She felt seen, not as a ruler, not as a symbol, but as what she truly was beneath centuries of masks. The sensation sent a shiver through her spine, and she didn’t bother hiding how much she enjoyed it.

Kraken’s reaction was quieter.

Her breath slowed. Her heart steadied. This was not a pressure meant to break her, at least that’s what she felt. This was depth.

She recognized it the way oceans recognize gravity. Reluctantly. Respectfully.

Then there were the dragons.

At first, they scoffed.

They even sneered openly, ancient draconic pride bristling at the audacity of some emperor daring to bare his will before them.

They had stood before the dragon emperor’s whose roar fractured skies. They had endured bloodline suppression that could crush entire legions.

This should have been nothing.

And then their instincts screamed.

Not loudly. Urgently!

Their scales prickled. Their hearts stuttered as something old and deeply buried clawed its way to the surface.

Fear.

Not the fear of being overpowered, but the fear of being recognized.

Their draconic souls reacted before their minds could catch up, ancient instincts flaring as they felt it clearly, unmistakably.

Ethan was not measuring their strength. He was measuring their worth, and whatever metric he was using... it was not one dragons had ever needed to pass before.

Several dragons shifted, claws scraping faintly against the marble. One swallowed hard, throat clicking audibly. Another forced a laugh that died halfway through as the illusion tightened, showing him a future where his lineage ended not in glory, but in irrelevance.

This fear was sharper than what they felt before the Dragon Emperor.

That had been dominance.

This was a replacement.

Ethan’s smile changed.

It was no longer polite.

It was no longer warm.

It was knowing.

His silver eye gleamed as his gaze swept over the dragons, specifically, lingering just long enough for them to feel it burn into their marrow.

"I bowed," Ethan said calmly, his voice carrying without effort, resonating in the chest rather than the ears, "because respect given freely has value."

He took a step forward.

The hall creaked.

"But do not misunderstand that gesture."

Another step.

Several beings found themselves unable to breathe for a heartbeat.

"I am not equalizing myself with you."

The illusion sharpened.

"I am acknowledging that you were invited."

Silence fell so absolute that even the heartbeat-like glow of the crests seemed to pause.

Ethan’s claws flexed once, slowly, audibly.

"And that invitation," he continued, tone mild, almost conversational, "is not unconditional."

Behind him, his spirit guardians shifted subtly.

Galeno’s presence deepened, the earth beneath the dragons answering him with a low, ominous hum.

Stygian’s shadow stretched, brushing against draconic tails like a reminder.

Saareiya tilted her head, smiling just a little wider.

Ethan’s aura did not grow stronger.

It grew closer.

And for the first time since entering the hall, several dragons understood something chillingly clear.

If this emperor decided they did not belong here...

There would be no war.

No challenge.

No spectacle.

There would only be an ending.

The pressure eased.

Not because it was withdrawn, but because it had finished speaking.

Ethan’s aura receded with the same deliberate control with which it had expanded, folding back into him until the ballroom could breathe again. Guests exhaled as though waking from a shared dream, hearts still racing, hands trembling slightly around goblets and armrests. The illusion dissolved, leaving only memory behind. Uncomfortable, indelible memory.

Music resumed, carefully. The orchestra picked up the rhythm as if afraid the notes themselves might offend something unseen, though they were all smiling with pride and a hint of arrogance. That was their emperor, and he had put everyone in their place.

Ethan turned, the edge gone from his smile, replaced by something composed and imperial.

"Tonight," he said evenly, "is a celebration."