Blackthorn Family Arrives

As Elion's gaze lingered on Jonathan, the butler who had received him at the gate entered the grand hall, his voice booming with authority. 

"Presenting Lucius Blackthorn, Duke and Protector of the North, Evelyn Blackthorn, his esteemed wife, and their son, Dorian Blackthorn."

The room fell into silence, and all eyes turned to the entrance. Elion straightened, his mind sharpening as the powerful Blackthorn family's figures entered.

Lucius Blackthorn was a man of few words, yet his presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room. His long black hair, falling just to his shoulders, and a pair of piercing red eyes that radiated authority. His lean, toned frame moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, making it clear why he was both feared and respected as the protector of the North.

Beside him, Evelyn Blackthorn was the embodiment of beauty and grace. Her raven-black hair cascaded down to her waist, perfectly complementing the elegant black dress she wore. The gown was a masterpiece—tailored to fit her flawless figure, with intricate lace patterns along the sleeves and neckline that hinted at sophistication and mystery. 

The way the fabric hugged her form exuded an air of both power and refinement, while the dark hue only enhanced her striking features. Her allure was so powerful, that it seemed dangerous, turning heads wherever she walked.

'Looks like the key players have arrived,' Elion thought. 'Now I just need to figure out how to approach them without sounding insane and getting kicked out of here. Or worse—captured.'

Shortly after making his entrance, Lucius Blackthorn's voice cut through the hall, commanding the attention of every guest. His tone was firm, laced with the authority of a man used to being heard.

"I thank you all for gathering here tonight," he began, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd. "This celebration is not just to honor my son, Dorian, who six months ago ventured to the battlefield as a warrior and returned victorious, bringing pride and glory to our family. It is also to recognize the small yet significant victories we have achieved against the demons." 

His gaze darkened, his voice filled with a steely resolve. "And may we one day rid our land of the vile scourge that continues to plague it like a cancer." 

The room erupted in applause, a ripple of approval spreading through the crowd. Even the traitor, Jonathan, wore a wide smile, clapping along with the others as if Lucius' words truly moved him.

'What a hypocrite,' Elion thought, his eyes narrowing in disgust.

[Kid, you're staring too hard.] 

Valen's voice warned in his mind. 

[High-level practitioners have an advanced sixth sense. Keep glaring at him like he's the last drop of water in a desert, and he'll notice.]

Elion quickly averted his gaze, realizing how reckless he'd been.

What Elion didn't realize was that Jonathan had already noticed him. The dwarf's eyes flickered with curiosity as he tried to place the unfamiliar face of the young human boy who seemed to be watching him a little too closely.

'Who is this kid?' Jonathan mused, furrowing his brow. 'I've kept a low profile for years. No one should have any reason to hold a grudge against me. I'll need to have someone investigate him, just to be safe.'

Though unease crept into his thoughts, Jonathan maintained a calm, composed exterior, careful not to draw unwanted attention.

This was a skill Jonathan had honed over years of navigating the treacherous waters of high society. No matter how panicked or unsettled he felt inside, his outward demeanor remained calm and controlled—a mask perfected through countless dealings with nobles, merchants, and even enemies.

In the world of Alastor's elite, showing any sign of weakness could invite suspicion, or worse, exploitation. Maintaining composure wasn't just about saving face; it was a survival tactic. In a room full of schemers, where even the smallest crack in one's armor could be exploited, this ability had protected Jonathan time and time again.

After the announcement, Dorian gave a respectful nod to his father before stepping away to entertain the guests. As the star of the celebration, his every move drew attention. 

Elion, sensing his opportunity, began to move toward Dorian, hoping to strike up a conversation. But before he could even get close, a horde of guests—mostly young girls between eleven and fifteen—swarmed Dorian, blocking Elion's path. The crowd, especially the girls, clamored for his attention, giggling and fawning over him. 

Among them, Elion noticed a peculiar mix of races: not just vampires, but even an orc girl towering above the others, her eyes filled with reverence and unmistakable infatuation. 

'Is cross-race romance a thing here?' Elion mused, watching the scene unfold. 'I wonder if this Dorian guy has some... interesting preferences,' he thought with a chuckle, shaking his head at the spectacle.

Elion chose to bide his time, deciding to observe the situation rather than force an approach. The celebration was scheduled to last for hours, and he figured the crowd's excitement around Dorian would eventually dwindle. Patience would serve him better now than rashness.

As he waited, Elion couldn't help but indulge in the extravagant food laid out by the Blackthorn family. The savory aromas were too tempting to ignore. 

Though he avoided the wine and, naturally, the blood drinks being enjoyed by the vampires, he found a juice made from a fruit that tasted strikingly similar to his favorite—bergamot. The sweet, citrusy tang brought a rare smile to his face.

'At least the refreshments here are decent,' he thought as he sipped his drink, keeping one eye on the crowd.

As Elion scanned the crowd, he couldn't help but marvel at the beauty surrounding him. 'The people here are so beautiful. Are there no ugly vampires or elves? How is it possible for both of these races to be so blessed with such striking features?'

[Haha, don't be jealous, kid. You're not half bad yourself.]

'Heh, thanks for the compliment. It's always nice to hear praise from an old man.'

While conversing with Valen, Elion's attention was suddenly captured by Lucius, who stepped forward to make an announcement. 

"Dear guests, I would like to propose some entertainment for our small celebration. My son, Dorian, will accept any challenges from children aged twelve to fifteen." 

'What?!' Elion thought, bewildered. 'A fight at a party? Are these vampires battle junkies?' 

The guests seemed unfazed by the announcement, readily stepping aside to clear a space in the center of the hall. This was a well-known tradition at Blackthorn celebrations; there was always some sort of competition, and this event would be no exception. 

As Elion moved with the crowd away from the center, a group of mages emerged, expertly manipulating mana in the air. Moments later, a small stone arena materialized in the hall, encircled by a shimmering, translucent barrier.

After the spell concluded, Lucius maintained a small, knowing smile. 

"Please, give your best to defeat my son. Whoever manages to beat him will have a small request granted." 

'Is that something a father should say?! Vampires are definitely insane,' Elion thought, eyeing Dorian, who wore a matching smile, seemingly unfazed by the challenge as if he had anticipated this all along. 

'This family is full of battle junkies.' 

[Yes, but isn't this your opportunity? Defeat him and get a private talk. Wasn't that your original plan on coming to this party?] 

'I did intend to do that, but I need to defeat someone who took down a low Body and Soul Fusion expert. Even if he didn't do it alone, he's likely at least in the late Soul-Strengthening stage.' 

[Well, just do your best, kid. I'm confident you can handle it.]

'At the very least, I must have a chance. I'll take a moment to observe first; perhaps I can learn something from watching the battles unfold. I'm certain he'll receive several challenges, especially since I can already see a few kids sizing him up.'

It wasn't long before the first challenger stepped forward. A tall, muscular vampire, clearly two years older than Dorian, approached with a confident stance. "My name is Cirus Darkus. It's an honor to battle you; please accept my challenge." 

Dorian nodded in acknowledgment and moved toward the arena. He picked up a wooden spear, assuming a ready position as he awaited his opponent. Cirus mirrored his actions, selecting a wooden scimitar, his weapon of choice, and preparing for the duel.

An elf, clearly a magician, stepped inside the barrier and declared, "I will be the referee for this battle. No deaths are allowed. The match will end when one participant surrenders or is incapacitated. If I intervene to assist anyone during the fight, that person will be declared the loser." 

The elf appeared to be at the peak of the Body and Soul Fusion Realm, more than capable of preventing any fatal injuries. Additionally, the use of wooden weapons significantly reduced the risk of accidental death, ensuring that the duel remained within safe boundaries.

"Are both contestants ready?" the elf asked, his gaze shifting between Cirus and Dorian. 

Both young men nodded swiftly in response. 

"Then let the battle begin!" he proclaimed, raising his arm to signal the start.