A Forced Fate

The hall was deathly silent.

Lord Baelrick, the dwarf noble who had first opposed Ethan, swallowed hard, his red horns trembling as he slowly stood.

"...We acknowledge the Patriarch's supremacy," he rasped, his earlier arrogance shattered.

One by one, the other dissenters followed suit. Dwarves and vampires alike bowed their heads, a full acknowledgment of Ethan's undeniable rule.

Even the clan elders, those who had guided the Smith lineage for centuries, had no choice but to submit.

Vlad's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. As expected.

Seraphina, watching from the side, smirked. That's my grandson.

Christel stood still, untouched by the waves of power.

Her green eyes remained blank, yet there was something beneath them—a quiet conflict.

"Ethan," she spoke, her voice flat but edged with something unspoken. "This is not about your will. It is about mine."