Civilization Chronicles: Rise of the Divine Creator

The Balfour Family Manor in Misty City wasn’t the only place holding celebrations tonight; in fact, similar events were happening all over the Rockwell Kingdom and the wider South-Central Region.

For instance, in the Rockwell City Royal Palace, an inebriated Cynthia Morgan was pouting adorably, "Anne! My little girl... my Tina... she’s..."

"Yes yes," rolling her eyes, First Queen Marianne Campbell patted her Third Sister’s head for the hundredth time this evening.

When the banquet began earlier that evening, Marianne had been quite sincere in her sympathies for Cynthia as this was the first time the latter’s only daughter wasn’t here to celebrate the new years.

The warrior queen knew well just how difficult it could be seeing your children grow up and leave the nest, so she had indulged her sister more than normal, offering words of comfort and stiff drinks.

That was a mistake.

10 glasses of Spirit Wine later, Cynthia was totally smashed and completely inconsolable, leaving Marianne to clean up the mess.

Both of them had duties they were supposed to perform tonight, but neither of them was currently in a position to do so.

To make matters worse, their reliable Second Sister had gone to Misty City as a representative of the Royal Family, leaving all the burden on their husband’s shoulders.

However, glancing over at Nathanial, seeing him smiling and chatting with so many nobles, representatives, and foreign envoys, all of whom for ’some reason’ were pretty young women, the First Queen’s concerns evaporated and were replaced with annoyance.

Nathanial wasn’t just a King, he was strong, brave, talented, and incredibly handsome, so he had always been something of a lady’s man, a fact which still occasionally irked her and her sisters.

None of them doubted Nathanial’s faithfulness to them, they all knew he didn’t have the guts to cheat on them, but seeing him surrounded by so many flirtatious vixens was naturally unpleasant.

"Big Siiiister! What if... what if Tina!!"

Drawn back to the drunkard yanking her arm, Marianne suddenly just wanted the night to be over.

It was a party, but the Rockwell Kingdom’s First Queen definitely wasn’t having much fun.

.....

In Amherst, the capital of the Roth Dukedom, a much more formal event was taking place.

Duke Gregory Roth, always a stickler for traditions, was presiding over his family’s new years observance.

The meal was simple and the conversation was hushed, resulting in a somber atmosphere meant to foster quiet reflection of the past year’s events.

"Lord Husband, are you sure it was wise to not even send a representative to the South-East?" A mature beauty with light brown hair quietly whispered to the man sitting next to her at the hall’s head table.

Without even glancing at his second wife, Duke Roth snorted softly, "There’s no reason for us to flatter that woman."

Understanding her husband’s aversion to Celestina, Ava Dalton simply nodded, though she sighed internally.

It was true that they, a Duke-rank Family, had no need to pay special respects to a Marquess, but this was also a significant moment in Princess Christina’s life; offering a token of respect to the young genius of the Royal Family surely wasn’t a bad idea.

Still, there was no use worrying about what had passed; the feud between her marital family and the powerhouse of the south was nothing new, the conflict dating back to before the founding of the kingdom itself.

Besides, sending an envoy with a small gift in the coming year would probably be sufficient to dispel any ill-feelings.

Unconsciously shifting her gaze to her youngest daughter, a genius in her own right, Ava thought it might be appropriate to let her handle this matter as a member of the same generation as the Marquess’ new Disciples.

Olivia wasn’t comparable to Christina when it came to cultivation, but in Alchemy, Ava was confident no one among the younger generation could match her child.

Come to think of it, Livia and Princess Christina always seem to fight whenever they meet nowadays, Ava mused, finding such childish rivalry more amusing than anything. In her opinion, tension between youngsters wasn’t an issue, it was just the right thing to spur some friendly competition.

Thinking so, Ava focused back on her meal, doing her best to ’enjoy’ the rather austere fare. It was hardly her preference when it came to dining, but since this was how the Roth Family chose to begin each new year, she wasn’t going to offer any complaints.

.....

In yet another grand hall, a very different style of celebration was taking place.

Two young men, both under 20, stood facing each other, their fists raised.

Bare-shirted, bruised, and bloodied, the pair stared each other down, their breaths sharp but laboured.

All around them, a rowdy crowd watched with great anticipation, their voices hushed as they waited to see which of these youths would emerge triumphant.

As a nation that placed enormous importance on martial prowess, no Darr Kingdom banquet was complete without live ’entertainment’, which was exactly what was happening inside the Royal Palace right now.

In accordance with tradition, young combatants fought one-on-one, unarmed and unarmoured, until one side was rendered unconscious or incapable of continuing. The elimination tournament carried on until a single winner emerged.

Despite what one might imagine, however, entering fighting in such a tournament wasn’t considered lowly. If anything, being selected as one of the fighters was seen as a privilege, and the grander the banquet, the greater the honour.

Status and rank meant nothing on such a stage; even an orphan commoner could change their destiny if they managed to win.

Of course, life was never that simple; after all, how could poor, starving peasants even enter such a banquet, much less compete with the favoured noble children who trained for this all their lives?

It wasn’t that winners never emerged from the lower caste, just that such occurrences were so rare they were basically the stuff of legends.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the young fighters kicked off the ground, lunged, and let their fists fly.

*BAM!*

With a literal bone-shattering crack, the youths landed devastating blows to each other’s jaws.

For a moment, it looked like both would faint, but at the last moment, one young man with long, dark-orange hair, stomped hard and managed to steady himself.

Without the slightest delay, the youth shifted his weight, pivoted on his forefoot, and delivered a roundhouse to his foe’s exposed chest, sending the latter tumbling across the stage.

The silence lasted a few seconds, but when the fallen combatant failed to rise, the hall erupted, "All hail His Highness, our undefeated champion!"

Responding to the crowd, Landon Darr, the brightest star of the kingdom’s younger generation, lifted his fists high and, in an uncharacteristic display of joy, roared victoriously.

At the head of the hall, behind a table piled high with roasted meats and ale, an absolute bear of a man quietly observed his grandson, a fierce glow flashing across the depths of his eyes.

He was Darian Darr, a Peak Martial Adept and the current monarch of the Darr Kingdom, a man who had ruled this nation for over 140 years.

"What do you think, Father?" A tall, wild beauty in practical, well-used armour sitting a few seats to the King’s left asked.

Biting into the roasted beast leg he was holding, Darian turned to his Fifth Daughter and heir, muttering casually, "He still lacks killing intent."

"Heh," Talia Darr snickered, "Of course he does, he hasn’t been baptized in a true battle to the death, yet."

"En," chewing loudly, Darian grinned, "We should do something about that."

Recalling a certain report her merchant spies had delivered to her recently, Talia flashed a cunning smile, "Speaking of which, the Red-Haired Monster seems to have recently taken a Disciple. Three of them, actually. All around Landon’s age."

"Oh?" At the mention of one of his old ’friends’, Darian felt several of his old battle-scars ache and his heart throb slightly. Fierceness pulsing from his aura, he snickered, "We should prepare an appropriate ’gift’, then."

"I will see to it, Your Majesty," Talia nodded.