Chapter 609: The Council

Chapter 607

"...."

"I guess this is confirmation?" one of the six uttered as he looked towards the seventh chair.

Each of the chairs around the table had a blue flame hovering above it, none of them larger than a fist.

The eighth chair, on the other hand, had a fist-sized crimson flame hovering above it. It appeared cool and didn’t burn like an ordinary flame would.

"I guess it wasn’t only me who saw the torches light up in the Seventh’s Castle earlier."

"I’m sure we all saw. I had even thought it was some kind of mistake."

"I guess not. The castle has chosen a seventh successor, but why? Who is it?"

"Now I’m curious. Why after so many years? That castle has been dormant for as long as I’ve been alive."

"By the way, wasn’t the entire family under the Seventh wiped out? So who could have activated the castle? Has it gone senile after so many decades of inactivity?"

While five of the individuals continued discussing, only one remained silent. He rested his chin on his knuckles, a lazy expression on his face.

Shadows shrouded his facial features, leaving only his blue eyes piercing through the dimly lit room as he listened to the others.

Finally, after several minutes of chatter, all eyes turned towards him, their brows arched.

"Any comment?" one of the five asked.

The man didn’t reply. He merely tapped his armrest for a few seconds, his face calm and expression nonchalant as he remained deep in thought.

"We will discuss the matters of the Seventh later on. For now, shouldn’t we discuss your son’s treason, Alaric?" the sixth questioned as he locked eyes with one of the others in the room.

A man with a clean-shaven goatee and black hair swept backwards, flowing towards his neck, came into view.

His bulky arms rested on his lap, and his eyes carried a cold but exhausted look, like those of someone who hadn’t slept in several days.

"As per Werewolf tradition, he is to be executed. So what use is there in discussing the matter?" Alaric asked without changing his expression.

The nonchalant man smirked, tapping the side of his chin with a finger.

"You aren’t even going to plead for his life or something? How heartless can you be towards your own son?"

Alaric tilted his head towards the man, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"If I were to plead for his life, would you grant it to me, Drack?"

The corners of Drack’s lips curved into a knowing grin.

"Why not? I could speak to the Alpha for you and curry fa—"

"—I would rather see my entire family wiped out than grovel at your feet for mercy. Felix broke the rules, and he must be punished accordingly." Alaric interrupted, a low snarl creeping into his voice.

Another of the six at the table heaved a tired sigh as he looked in Alaric’s direction.

"You are truly a role model. You value Werewolf pride and rules more than anything. You are am—"

"If there’s nothing more to discuss, you should all excuse me. I need to go prepare for my—"

"Fine, then. Since you won’t intercede on his behalf, the council has decided that Felix will be executed in three weeks." Drack uttered with cold finality, looking around the table.

Nobody said a word.

Nobody objected.

They all nodded in agreement.

Alaric lingered for a second or two before turning away and walking out of the room.

"So be it."

Drack watched Alaric’s retreating back, a cold glint flashing through his blue eyes.

"The Seventh... What should we do about him?" Another man at the table asked, raising a brow.

Another immediately replied:

"Crush him before he gets the chance to challenge us."

"Did you all see the torches light up? They only remained lit for a minute. If he can’t even keep the flames burning for that long in this world, how can he hope to become strong enough to challenge the council? He’s just an insignificant bug. We have more important matters to worry about." Another member added dismissively.

Drack remained silent for a few moments, deep in thought, before shaking his head and rising from his seat.

"The one mistake this council must never make is underestimating even the smallest threat. That’s how the Werewolf Settlement could end up being wiped out. So, I will task the Whitlock family with sending an Omega to investigate the castle and report back.

"They are not to attack. Their only task is to observe who we’re dealing with and return with a report. Understood?"

A woman seated at the table stood up, planting both hands firmly on its stone surface before giving a curt nod.

Among those present, she appeared to be the youngest. Her pale blue eyes glowed intermittently, reflecting her determination.

"Sure. I’ll send my strongest Omega Werewolf for this."

Drack smiled and nodded.

"The Alpha thanks you for your service. Now, if there’s nothing else, let’s call it a day."

The Werewolves rose from their seats, exchanging curt nods before leaving the chamber one after another. Soon, only Drack remained.

His smile gradually faded into a frown as he stared at the now-empty chairs, lost in thought. Eventually, his gaze settled on the seventh chair.

"I need to consult the Alpha about this. If a Successor has appeared, he should be able to sense him and determine whether we’re in the clear."

He pondered for a few more seconds, rubbing his long white beard before tapping the table once. Then, he turned and walked towards the exit.

"...First Alaric’s son and his expedition, and now a Seventh Successor after so many decades? What are the odds? It seems the peaceful days we’ve enjoyed are about to come to an end."

Just before stepping out of the room, he clenched his hands into fists and snarled.

"I won’t let that happen. As the most promising candidate to take the position of Alpha, I can’t allow our race to be plunged into another war."