章 29: The Grand Hall's Deception
The words hung in the air, sharp and cold, echoing throughout the grand hall. "Kill them."
As soon as the command left Graviel's lips, the large doors behind Elara and her children burst open with a resounding boom. Dozens of guards stormed in, their heavy footsteps shaking the marble floor, adding to the oppressive atmosphere as they surrounded Elara, Elion, and Verion with spears and swords drawn.
The air seemed to thicken, pressing heavily on their chests. The guards' cold stares and precise movements formed a wall of steel—unbreakable and merciless. It was a demonstration of absolute power, a clear message: resistance meant death.
On the other side of the room, the elders of the Vossmer family watched with wide, mocking smiles, their eyes gleaming with scorn. Their expressions spoke louder than words: How foolish you were to walk right into this trap.
These bastards… they really do want us dead, Elion thought, his gaze scanning the room. He took in every detail—the guards, their weapons, and Graviel's unyielding demeanor. They had been lured here under the guise of a family gathering—a perfect trap. But why such overwhelming numbers? What is Graviel really planning?
Elion's eyes returned to Graviel, who sat with a smug air on his throne, his chin resting on one hand. The man's gaze was sharp and unreadable, as though he were dissecting Elion's every move. A flash of memory brought back the suffocating pressure he had felt in the carriage. Graviel had been watching him even then.
But why? Why is he so interested in me?
Meanwhile, Verion reacted differently. A broad grin spread across his face, his eyes burning with excitement. To him, this situation only fuelled his fighting spirit. Whether it was because of what he'd done to Kaelan or for another reason, he saw this as a challenge to be met head-on.
"Stop overthinking it, Elion. If they want to kill us, we'll just have to kill them first," he whispered, glancing at Elion, who looked far too serious. Verion's hand was already wrapped around the hilt of his sword, ready for whatever came next.
This was his third life. In his second, Verion had been the strongest warrior in all of Murim but was betrayed by those he trusted. While the Vossmer family hadn't been involved in his past death, this current threat was more than enough reason for him to strike without hesitation.
"That's not what I'm worried about, idiot," Elion muttered, his eyes still fixed on Graviel. "There's something that doesn't feel right."
Elara, who had been watching with a clenched jaw and piercing eyes, stood up from her kneeling position. She stepped back to shield her sons, her voice steady and fearless as she spoke.
"What is the meaning of this, Your Grace?"
The elders in the great hall tensed at Elara's boldness. They whispered among themselves, disbelief written on their faces. Finally, a thin elder wearing a luxurious robe adorned with dragon motifs stepped forward.
"How dare you speak, lowly woman!"
But Graviel raised one elegant hand, silencing the elder instantly. The hall fell silent once more, tension hanging thickly in the air as Graviel spoke.
"Why pretend to be ignorant, Elara?"
His voice resonated with authority, and his gaze cut through her, nearly bringing her to her knees again. But Elara held her ground, resisting the fear tightening around her heart.
"Is this about Young Master Kaelan? If so, I beg you—spare my son. Let me take responsibility, Your Grace."
Verion stiffened at his mother's words. Across his long life—two lifetimes—no one had ever stood up for him like this, ready to sacrifice themselves. He stared at Elara's back, seeing a strength that warmed him to the core.
So, this is what it feels like… to have a mother. He smiled faintly. It was a warmth he craved—and one he would protect, even if it meant bloodshed.
"No, Mother." Verion's voice cut through the silence as he stepped forward, drawing his sword. He fixed Graviel with a defiant grin. "I'll take responsibility myself."
Elara's face went pale. "Verion! Get back here!" Her voice was thick with worry as the elders' anger surged, their faces flushing red with rage.
Graviel, still seated on his throne, smiled thinly. "You have a brave son," he remarked, silencing the elders' murmurs once again. But his smile vanished as a strange energy flooded the hall—powerful and foreign.
The guards staggered back, choking on their breath. The energy emanated from behind Elara and Verion. They turned, and their eyes met Elion's. He radiated an overwhelming aura, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning with determination.
"You're right, Verion," Elion said, his voice calm yet deadly. A tear in space appeared beside him, and he reached into it, drawing out a sword. "If they want to kill us, we'll just have to kill them first."
The elders' eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "This is impossible... only a Martial Ancestor or Deity can tear space," one elder whispered, his voice trembling.
Graviel spoke again, his words silencing everyone. "As I suspected. Your child is not of this world, Elara."
Elion narrowed his eyes, suspicion flaring within him. How does he know? Is it because he's a Martial Deity? Or because I used Imagination Point instead of Qi?
Graviel's words were cryptic, leaving the elders glancing at one another, their whispers frantic as they tried to decipher Graviel's meaning. But in that great hall, only Graviel and Elion seemed to understand.
Elara's eyes widened, confusion etched into her face. "W-What do you mean, Your Grace?" she asked, her voice strained.
Graviel ignored her question, a small smile playing at his lips as he raised his hand and brought it down, signalling the guards to attack.
Elara's expression hardened instantly. With swift movements, she drew a dagger hidden beneath her dress, ready to defend her children. No matter what happens, I will protect my sons, she vowed in the midst of the suffocating tension.
Verion mirrored her resolve. Placing his hand on his chest, he drew the short sword Elion had given him, pointing it at the advancing guards.
The guards charged once more. Their steps echoed through the hall, eyes blazing as they swung their swords and spears toward Elara and Verion.
But before their weapons could land, Elion moved. "I don't care if you're the strongest family in eastern Murim or whatever. Touch my family, and I will kill every last one of you," he said coldly as he swung his sword faster than light, carving a horizontal arc through the hall.
SLASH!
Like a knife through vegetables, the blade's arc cleaved through the guards, splitting bodies cleanly in half. Blood sprayed into the air, and upper halves crashed onto the marble floor, intestines spilling and soaking the centre of the hall in red.
[You have killed 15 Martial Experts.]
[You have Leveled Up! (45x)] [Special effect activated.] [Lv. 1,000,000 → Lv. 45,000,000]
As the system message hovered in Elion's vision, every person in the grand hall froze. Elara, Verion, the remaining guards, the elders, even Graviel—they stared, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
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