chapter 11 : The 7 Seats

Six months later—

While chaos stirred across the empire, while shadows danced in the wake of unfolding events, one truth remained unchanged.

Nothing within the empire escaped the gaze of the empire itself.

Not when the shadows themselves bowed before the ones who ruled.

And when shadows bow… secrets are revealed.

Imperial Capital – The Golden City

At the heart of the Sylvaris Empire stood The City of Gold—a beacon of power, wealth, and divinity.

And at its very core stood the Imperial Palace, an awe-inspiring fortress of white and gold.

It did not simply exist, it dominated.

Its divine brilliance pressed against the souls of all who laid eyes upon it.

Some knelt, trembling, unable to withstand its overwhelming majesty.

Others—fanatics of the imperial bloodline—bowed their heads in fervent worship, their eyes alight with devotion.

Yet among them, there were those who remained standing.

Those with iron will.

Those who did not kneel so easily.

But even they felt it.

The weight of the empire.

The silent warning in the very air.

Here, only gods ruled.

Or at least… men who believed themselves to be.

…

Deep within the palace, in a chamber of obsidian and gold, a council was in session.

Seven figures sat around a circular table, their faceless masks reflecting the dim candlelight.

Each mask bore a single number, etched in cold gold.

One through Seven.

They were the Seven Seats of the Empire.

The true sovereigns who ruled from the shadows—alongside the Emperor.

And tonight, their attention was drawn to a single matter.

A disturbance.

A threat.

A name.

Ignis.

At the head of the table, Emperor Atticus Sylvaris sat in silence.

His golden eyes—sharp as the edge of a blade—glowed faintly beneath the dim light.

His presence alone was suffocating.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of the empire itself.

"I assume you have all received the reports regarding the heir of the Ignis family."

A pause.

A silence heavy enough to crush.

Then, Seat One spoke.

A voice measured. Calm. But carrying something deeper.

Something old.

Something bitter.

"Yes. And I hope this time… we will all be on the same page."

His words were not simple agreement.

They carried history.

Because this wasn't just about Lucas Ignis.

This wasn't just about a five-year-old awakening his mana core without aid.

No.

This was about something far greater.

The Ignis family itself.

A house of madmen.

A house of monsters.

A house that once—almost burned the empire to the ground.

The room darkened.

The air grew cold.

Even now, the past cast a shadow over them.

Sixty years ago.

The empire had come closer to collapse than it would ever admit.

And the cause?

Eldric Ignis.

A name that still haunted the empire.

Seat One's fingers curled into a fist.

"We cannot let history repeat itself."

Because they all remembered.

The fire that froze flesh faster than ice.

The flames that healed wounds like divine miracles.

The crimson inferno that nearly consumed the throne itself.

And worst of all…

The black fire.

A flame that did not burn, but devoured.

A flame that seemed alive, as though something ancient and hungry lurked within it.

That day, the palace burned.

And standing before its scorched gates, atop a mountain of corpses, was a man with flames for eyes.

A man they called—

The Devil of Purgatory.

Eldric Ignis.

Behind him, his kin stood tall, their flames dancing wildly.

Each one wielding fire that should not exist.

A fire different from the usual fire they are accustomed to.

Each one defying the laws of magic itself.

And Eldric's words had echoed through the burning night.

"You are not fit to rule."

The Emperor's jaw clenched.

It had taken betrayal. Poison. A slaughter in the dead of night to stop the rebellion.

And even then… they had not truly won.

Because the Ignis bloodline survived.

Because embers never die.

And now—those embers were burning again.

A five-year-old had awakened.

Just that fact alone make him a monster.

But..

Without aid.

Without a Mana Crystal.

Without explanation.

With an unknown bloodline.

And with a power that should not exist.

Seat Three's voice dripped with disdain.

"A child, they say."

His fingers tapped against the table, slow and deliberate.

"But no child should have a gaze that sets the world on fire."

Silence.

And yet… that was not the only danger.

The Emperor's voice was colder this time.

"We cannot allow the Mindweaver family to reach him."

A ripple of tension passed through the room.

The Mindweavers.

A house that stood on equal footing with the Ignis family in raw power.

But unlike the Ignis, they did not rely on brute force.

They were seers.

Manipulators of fate.

And if those madmen turned their eyes toward Lucas…

If the Ignis and Mindweaver families ever united…

The Empire would fall.

This was not a precaution.

This was a necessity.

"But how do we escape their gaze?" Seat Five asked, a flicker of concern in his voice.

The Emperor's lips curled into a smile.

Cold. Hollow.

"Do not underestimate the royal family."

"We have a tool that shields us from their sight."

"And it is already in use."

The tension eased.

But the weight of what came next… only grew heavier.

"We must not forget that The Ignis are a necessary force against the Undead."

"Without them—"

"It is better to have an enemy outside our walls than within." Seat One interrupted.

A long silence.

Then—

A sigh.

The Emperor leaned back.

"…Then so be it."

"We do what we must."

And at that moment—the room darkened.

The shadows deepened.

And from those shadows, figures emerged.

Cloaked in nothingness. Wrapped in death.

The Emperor closed his eyes briefly.

Then, when he opened them, his golden gaze pierced the abyss.

"You know what to do."

A whisper.

"…Kill the boy?"

His lips curled.

"No."

"The whole family."

A pause.

"…And I will send reinforcements."

His final words came like a death sentence.

"After all, those two are Saint Realm ascendants."

The shadows did not question.

They only obeyed.

And just like that—they were gone.

Far from the Capital – The City of Silver

In a grand chamber bathed in silver light, a silver haired girl abruptly opened her eyes.

Silver eyes.

Eyes that saw too much.

Iris Mindweaver sat up, her breath unsteady.

Something was wrong.

A pull in her very soul.

Her fingers tightened against the silk sheets.

A whisper left her lips—soft, but deadly.

"…Why do I feel like something bad is about to happen to my husband?"

A glint flashed through her eyes.

An obsession. A certainty.

She did not ignore these feelings.

She could not.

And so—she moved.

For the first time since her birth…

Iris Mindweaver left the Mindweaver Territory.

And she marched toward the City of Crimson.

End of Chapter 11.