Chapter 39: Challenge to Kilvis Clan
The ancestral hall of the Kilvis Clan lay steeped in shadows, the flickering soulfire torches casting eerie reflections upon the obsidian table. Around it sat the clan’s most formidable figures, their oppressive auras intertwining like colliding storms.
At the head of the table, Patriarch Charles Kilvis sat with regal poise, his sharp black beard framing a face that bore an uncanny resemblance to Kaal’s. His fingers steepled before him, he spoke, his voice smooth yet edged with steel.
"The final round of the True Dragon Competition will be a duel tournament," he announced, his dark eyes sweeping across the assembled elders. "At least, that is what we have told the other sects."
A weighted silence followed.
Grand Elder William, seated at Charles’s left, smirked into his tea, the steam curling around his knowing expression. He, like the others, understood the true intent behind the Patriarch’s words.
Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering to a dangerous murmur. "The real trial lies beyond our borders. The finalists will be sent into Jeral Clan territory to eliminate their so-called ’promised geniuses.’ "
A ripple of tension passed through the chamber. Elder Alvin, his grip tightening around his cup, felt the old embers of vengeance stir within him. The Jeral Clan had taken his grandson, Raven, and burned him alive. This mission was not just a test; it was retribution, sanctioned by the clan itself.
Elder George slammed his fist onto the table, the sound echoing sharply. "You would send our youths on a suicide mission? My Lauren just—"
"Your Lauren," Alvin cut in, his voice dripping with bitter satisfaction, "chose to compete, just as my Raven once did." His lips curled into a humorless smile. "Or do the rules only bend for your bloodline, George?"
Before George could retaliate, Charles released a sliver of his Sea Realm pressure, a suffocating weight that forced both elders into silence. The torches flickered violently, as if recoiling from his displeasure.
"Enough." The single word cut through the tension like a blade. "The Jeral Clan slaughtered our disciples in the Mist Forest last month. They burned Alvin’s grandson alive. This is no mere competition—it is war waged in the shadows."