He walked with purpose, his expression unreadable, and as he approached the platform where the Imperial Family sat, the tension in the room grew thick, almost stifling.
My eyes widened slightly as realization struck me, and a chill ran down my spine.
I knew who he was.
He had managed to step into the Imperial Palace without even an invitation.
There were only a handful of individuals capable of this.
The Kings and those who stood just beneath them, like Archduke Astoria. But the man who had entered was even more extraordinary—a figure the guards didn't dare to stop.
They could instinctively tell they weren't capable of stopping him. Not even close.
This was the most powerful being in the world.
Magnus Draykar, the Martial King—the Rank 1 of the world.
The only one who had ever killed a black mana being that had reached the equivalent of Radiant-rank in this generation.
The strongest of all Radiant-ranks and the only person to have defeated not just one but all other Radiant-ranks in duels at the peak of their power.
And now he was here.
The reason Magnus never received invitations was simple—he never attended any event.
That was because he had made enemies of every Radiant-rank by stomping on their pride after crushing them in battle.
Emperor Quinn's red eyes narrowed as he looked at Magnus, tension evident in his stance. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting what would come next.
Finally, Quinn parted his lips to speak, his voice cold. "What are you doing here, Magnus?"
"I came to wish your daughter a happy birthday, Quinn," Magnus responded curtly, showing no inclination to offer the proper respect due to an emperor.
There was an uneasy silence, and no one dared to admonish him—not even the most devoted loyalists of the Emperor. Magnus's presence alone stifled any impulse to speak against him.
Quinn scoffed, his displeasure clear. "Do as you wish then."
Magnus nodded, unaffected by the dismissive tone. He turned his attention to Cecilia, his voice softening only slightly. "Happy birthday, Princess Cecilia. You've grown a lot since I last saw you."
The remark made Quinn's expression harden further, a dark shadow passing across his face.
Everyone knew what Magnus meant. The last time he had seen Cecilia in person was when he had come to challenge Quinn—a battle that ended in a crushing defeat for the Emperor.
Magnus's words hung in the air like a taunt, a reminder of the past that Quinn would have preferred stayed buried. The unease in the room grew, the silent tension almost unbearable.
Cecilia, to her credit, kept her composure, offering Magnus a polite nod. "Thank you, Martial King," she said, her voice steady, though her eyes flickered briefly with something that might have been unease or curiosity.
Magnus gave a small nod, then stepped back, his gaze sweeping across the hall as if daring anyone to challenge his presence.
No one did.
Magnus's eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as he spoke again, his lips curling into a smile. "I also heard something interesting," he said, his voice carrying across the hall. "Word is, some remarkable talents have emerged recently."
I felt his gaze land on me, and suddenly, it was as if a mountain of pressure had settled onto my shoulders. My breathing grew heavy, my instincts urging me to shrink away from his attention.
"Magnus," Quinn's voice cut through the tension, sharp and edged with warning.
The air seemed to thicken as mana shifted, swirling around Quinn, Magnus, and Archduke Leopold Astoria—the three Radiant-ranks present. It was a clear warning to the Martial King: a silent promise that any further provocation would be met with force, regardless of the consequences.
Of course, a battle of that scale would turn the Imperial Capital of Avalon into little more than rubble.
Magnus's gaze remained steady, the smile never leaving his face. He made no move to challenge them, but his demeanor showed he was anything but intimidated.
However, Magnus wasn't someone who sought to crush young talents out of envy or insecurity. Quite the opposite—he took a peculiar interest in nurturing the strong, though his standards were so high that only the rare few were deemed worthy of his mentorship.
"Relax, Quinn," Magnus said dismissively, waving a hand in the air as if swatting away the tension. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Just curious about the talents of this generation."
The tension seemed to ease just a fraction, but the room remained on edge. The crowd was silent, every gaze flicking back and forth between Magnus and the Emperor, unsure whether the situation would escalate.
Magnus took a step back, his eyes still lingering on me. "Perhaps," he said, almost to himself, "one of them might be worthy this time."
With that, he turned, walking away from the raised platform, leaving an unsettled air in his wake. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, though the whispers were rife with speculation and unease.
I took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the feeling of being under a magnifying glass.
After Magnus greeted Quinn, the festivities for Cecilia's birthday resumed as if he were no longer there.
He stood apart, almost like a white hole, creating a large empty space around him as no one dared to approach. Magnus was too unpredictable, too confusing to attempt forming an alliance with, and while he was undoubtedly the strongest being in the world, he lacked the backing of a powerful force like the other Radiant-rankers.
Simply put, even for those who might have the courage, it wasn't worth the effort to approach him.
I decided to ignore him for now and turned my attention to the various groups that had formed among the younger generation. Three major groups stood out in particular.
The first group consisted of older teenagers like Kali Luna and Drake Grimfeld. They were gathered together more out of a sense of necessity than any real camaraderie, their conversations tinged with the awkwardness of people who knew each other well but weren't particularly close.
The second group was the Class A circle from Mythos Academy—Lucifer, Rachel, Jin, Ian, Seraphina, Ren, and Luke. They appeared comfortable, sharing light banter, their friendships genuine despite the intense competition that often arose between them.
Cecilia, the guest of honor, was still occupied with other nobles who came to wish her well. She offered polite smiles and exchanged pleasantries, but I could tell she was eager to break free from the formalities.
Finally, the third group comprised the talented students from Slatemark Academy. They were clustered together, their conversation quieter, more observant of the room around them. This was their chance to make an impression on some of the most powerful families in the world, and they were aware of that weight.
I stood for a moment, assessing each group. It was clear that tonight wasn't just about celebrations—it was a subtle competition of influence, a test of who would establish alliances and who would find themselves isolated. The social dynamics here would likely affect the balance of power for years to come.
Taking a breath, I made my decision and began moving towards the Class A group. These were my friends—the ones I intended to grow with, no matter what challenges lay ahead.
However, on my way over, I decided to find Rose first.
Since she had confessed her feelings to me, I had kept some distance, wanting to give her the space she needed to sort through her emotions. But despite the awkwardness, we were still friends, and I didn't want to lose that connection.