Chapter 164: A Throne for Dominic Salvatore

A Throne for Dominic Salvatore

For the first time, he truly looked at his clansman.

Then—

A faint smile appeared.

"Good!! From this day forward, you need not return to the Sovereign Blessed Land. Stay here. Be..."

Victor paused.

His golden eyes swept over the ruined capital.

"A ruler!!"

The words rang through the heavens.

Dominic froze.

His eyes widened.

"What?! Patriarch!! My cultivation, my strength—"

He had never imagined such a responsibility would fall upon him.

He was not one of the strongest.

He wasn’t even among the most talented members of the clan.

How could he rule an entire empire?

Victor looked at the flustered young man.

His expression remained calm.

"Behind you stands the Salvatore Family. Stands me."

Those words struck Dominic harder than any battle technique.

Victor continued.

"The Salvatore Family has many paths."

"Some suppress one corner of the world."

"Some roam freely across heaven and earth."

"Some chase their dreams, however distant."

Victor’s voice grew quieter.

Yet every word carried weight.

"Since the Salvatore Family can hold all such paths—it can also hold a ruler who dreams of sweeping the six directions!"

Dominic’s fingers slowly tightened.

His heart began beating faster.

He had never imagined that the Patriarch would see value in his dream.

He had spent his entire life feeling ordinary.

Others had been called prodigies.

Others had been praised.

Others had received resources.

He had simply watched.

Yet now...

The Patriarch was telling him that his path was also worthy.

Victor looked toward the vast lands.

"Walk forward boldly. Walk your own path. And all the little flames that flicker in the darkness..."

He turned back toward Dominic.

"I alone will extinguish them."

The voice was quiet.

But in that moment, the heavens themselves seemed to lean closer.

Listening.

Dominic’s eyes grew hot.

He lowered his head quickly.

His vision blurred for an instant.

What had he done to deserve this?

Why had he been fortunate enough to be born into the Salvatore Family?

Why had the Patriarch chosen him?

His mind instinctively returned to his childhood.

He had been born into the Aurelia City Salvatore branch.

But his childhood had not been peaceful.

He had drifted away from the clan when he was young.

He had even been captured and enslaved by another family.

For a time, he had believed that his life would end in darkness.

Then Victor had emerged from seclusion.

He had crushed every obstacle.

He had freed Dominic.

From that day forward, something inside Dominic had changed.

To him, Victor wasn’t merely the Patriarch.

Victor was the person who had given him his life back.

And now...

He had given him a path.

A throne.

A future.

Dominic dropped to one knee.

"By the Patriarch’s command!!"

His voice was firm.

His eyes burned with reverence.

The kind of reverence one would show a god.

Victor nodded in approval.

Then a voice came from nearby.

"Congratulations, Brother..."

Norman looked toward Dominic.

His strange eyes—one golden, one black—held a thoughtful light.

Dominic turned toward him.

"Thank you, Brother."

He returned the gesture respectfully.

After hearing Victor’s words, something within Dominic had undergone a complete transformation.

His spirit felt lighter.

His gaze became steadier.

The uncertainty that had once followed him had finally disappeared.

Even before such a terrifying prodigy—someone capable of slaying a Stellar Sovereign expert across two major realms—Dominic remained calm and composed.

There was no jealousy in his eyes.

Only recognition.

And Norman noticed that.

Looking at Dominic, Norman felt something strange.

A sensation he could not explain.

A faint sense of familiarity.

As if he had seen this person before.

As if their paths had crossed long ago.

But where?

Norman couldn’t remember.

His memories were sealed, buried deep within the forgotten Chaotic Era.

Everything from that distant age had been lost to him.

And yet, as he looked at Dominic, that inexplicable feeling remained.

Like a fragment of a forgotten dream stirring beneath the surface of his soul.

But just now, when Dominic had spoken those words—"Purge the realm. Sweep the six directions"—Norman felt as though he glimpsed the shadow of someone upon him.

For the briefest instant, something ancient stirred within the depths of his sealed memories.

A figure.

A presence.

Someone standing impossibly high above the world.

But who that person was, Norman could not recall.

He only remembered one thing.

In the Chaotic Era, countless great clans and sacred lands had stood tall across the world. Dynasties and imperial courts had been mocked as little more than jokes by those ancient powers.

And there had been a man who stood upon Mount Daizong, looking down upon all living beings...

Who was he?

Norman tried to grasp the memory.

Nothing.

There was no splitting headache.

No sensation that some precious memory had been stolen from him.

It was stranger than that.

There was simply nothing there.

An empty space where an answer should have existed.

Norman’s brows furrowed slightly.

"Perhaps... I should seek my own path..."

The thought surfaced quietly within him.

He did not force himself to remember.

If the memory was truly buried in the Chaotic Era, perhaps trying to dig it out now would accomplish nothing.

Perhaps his path in this life had nothing to do with whatever he had once been.

Perhaps it was time to create something new.

But Victor paid no mind to their thoughts.

His black hair fell to his shoulders, stirred gently by the night wind. His golden eyes remained calm as he led the two young men down from the heavens.

One step.

Then another.

The vast pressure that had filled the sky gradually receded as they descended toward the royal palace.

Victor’s black robe flowed behind him, its golden dragon embroidery gleaming beneath the moonlight.

Dominic followed closely behind.

Ten thousand dragon auras seemed to flicker within his black eyes.

There was no fear in them.

Only a quiet determination.

What followed was simple.

The ruler was dead.

The nation had no leader.