Chapter 364: The Gilded Table

Step. Step. Step.

Kael’s boots clicked against the floor of the Vorn Estate’s grand corridor. He was halfway to the exit when a sharp, venomous voice cut through the air.

"Kael!"

Kael stopped, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he smoothed it into a mask of perfect, artificial politeness. He turned slowly, offering a slight, mocking bow to the woman storming toward him.

"Lady Ursula," Kael greeted, his voice dripping with faux warmth. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ursula stopped a few feet away, her eyes blazing with barely restrained hatred. She waved a dismissive, manicured hand. "Spare me your fake pleasantries, boy. We both know you would sooner see me dead than bow your head to me."

Kael kept his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his silver-flecked eyes watching her like a predator observing a cornered animal.

"You think you are so clever," Ursula hissed, her voice dropping to a cold, furious whisper. "A Shadow jumping straight to Sword. You think you can oppose me, undermine my children, and claw your way to power without consequences? I have spent decades building my position in this family. I have bore the Family Head two children who have served this dynasty faithfully. And you, a low-born rat spawned from a dead whore, think you can stand in my way? I will not allow you to threaten Marcus or Thalia’s future. If you continue down this path, I will make sure you are ground into dust."

Kael smiled. It was a chilling, beautiful smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Aunty," Kael said, his tone light and conversational, completely ignoring her insult to his mother. "We are family, and I assure you, there is no need for such conflict. Whatever misconception you feel due to my recent..." He paused, his smile widening. "...promotion, you have no need to worry. As long as no one stands in my way, I have no reason to crush them."

Ursula’s face turned a mottled shade of purple. "You arrogant little whelp! You think you can threaten me?!"

Kael offered another slight, mocking bow. "Have a wonderful evening, Lady Ursula. I’m sure the dinner will be delightful."

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Ursula trembling with fury in the empty corridor. She stood there for a long moment, her chest heaving. The soft tap-tap of a cane announced the arrival of Elder Maren, one of the High Elders firmly entrenched in her faction.

He stood beside her, his eyes following Kael’s retreating figure. "My Lady, your anger is justified. The boy is becoming too bold. The Family Head leaves for the Starless Grave tonight, and the board is set. If we are to act, it must be soon. His influence grows with every breath he takes."

Ursula’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "He needs to go," she seethed, her voice dripping with murderous intent. "By any means necessary."

Kael’s Mansion.

Buzz. Buzz.

Kael stepped into his private sanctuary, pulling off his formal outer robe. He reached into his pocket as his communication device vibrated, placing the glowing rune against his ear.

"My Lord," Gerard’s voice echoed, crisp and professional. "I have received word from the Lunaris Galaxy. The Fox sisters are currently safe. Lady Rue’s spiritual foundation is healing steadily, and Lady Sage is by her side."

Kael let out a quiet, relieved breath. "Well, that’s a relief. Anything else?"

"However," Gerard continued, his tone growing serious. "There is an ongoing conflict between the Moonveil Clan and the Duskfang Clan. It seems a territorial war is brewing. I am still investigating the scale of the conflict and whether it will threaten the sisters."

"Continue investigating," Kael ordered, his eyes narrowing. "If the Duskfang Clan so much as breathes in their direction, I want to know immediately."

"As you command, My Lord."

Evening Time, The Grand Dining Hall.

The dining hall of the Vorn Estate was a masterpiece of intimidating architecture. A massive table of reinforced dark wood, capable of seating a hundred, stretched across the hall. Floating chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the assembled family.

Every main family member born from the Family Head, along with his present wives, was seated at the table.

Kael arrived last, pushing the heavy doors open with a soft CREEEAK.

He was dressed in a tailored, midnight-black suit woven from shadow-silk, accented with subtle silver threading that traced the Vorn family crest over his heart. A high collar framed his sharp jawline, and his dark hair was tied back, revealing the cold, striking features of his face. He looked every bit the Sovereign he was becoming.

At the head of the table sat the Family Head, his ancient eyes scanning the room. Beside him, the seats of his wives told the story of the Vorn dynasty’s political web.

The First Lady, Seraphina Du Lac of World Three, was dead. The Second, Lady Clara Fitzgerald, was absent, fighting on the warfront. The Third, Lady Rose Morrison, had died in battle a century ago. The Fourth was Ursula Holden of World Nine, mother of Marcus and Thalia, glaring daggers at Kael. The Fifth was Miriam Austin, Kael’s mother, long dead. The Sixth was Lady Eunice Schuyler of World Eight, known for their vast intelligence and espionage networks, mother of Isabella. The Seventh was Sophie Mann of World Eleven, mother of Elena and Nora. The Eighth was Lady Cordelia Churchill, imprisoned on World Twelve. And the Ninth was Lady Beatrice Ashbury, the wealthiest woman in the room.

As Kael took a step toward his seat, a grating voice broke the quiet murmur of the room.

"Well, well," Marcus sneered, leaning back in his chair with a goblet of wine. "Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. Did you have to wash the blood of your own brother off your hands first, or did you just lose track of time playing with your new Sword toys?"

A tense silence fell over the table.

Kael didn’t break his stride. He looked at Marcus with a gaze of utter boredom. "I was merely ensuring my appearance was worthy of the Family Head’s table, Marcus. Unlike some, I don’t need to make a scene to be noticed. It’s embarrassing to watch you try so hard."

Marcus’s face flushed with anger, his knuckles turning white around his goblet. CLATTER! He slammed it onto the table. "You dare—"

"Now, now," a sweet, melodic voice interjected.

Lady Beatrice Ashbury smiled, her elegant features radiating calm authority. "Let us not spoil this wonderful evening. The Family Head has graced us with his presence, and we are gathered here as one bloodline. There is no need for such hostility at the dinner table. We are all aware of the trials ahead, the Abyss at our doorstep, and the Family Head’s departure. We should cherish this moment of unity, not tear each other apart over petty squabbles. Let us dine with grace."

Her words were like a soothing balm.

Marcus gritted his teeth but said nothing, cowed by the Ninth Lady’s presence.

Kael offered Beatrice a polite nod of acknowledgment before walking to the empty seat beside Sophie. He looked at Cassandra giving her a nod with a smile.

As he sat down, Elena and Nora, who were seated next to their mother, immediately lit up. They scooted their chairs closer, each grabbing one of Kael’s arms and hugging them tightly.

"Brother Kael!" they whispered happily, their eyes shining.

Sophie looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and quiet worry. She gently placed her hand over his, a silent gesture of support.

The Family Head stood up, raising his goblet. The entire table fell silent, every eye fixed on the ancient sovereign.

"Tonight, we dine not just as a family," the Family Head said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "But as the pillars of the Vorn Dynasty. Tomorrow, I leave for the Starless Grave. The Abyss is rising, and the universe will soon be bathed in chaos. I expect each of you to protect the foundation we have built. The infighting, the schemes, the bloodlines—none of it will matter if the Abyss breaches our borders. Eat well. For tomorrow... we march into the dark."

He raised his goblet. Clink.

The family raised their glasses in unison, the tension in the room thickening to a suffocating level. Kael took a sip of his wine, his eyes meeting Ursula’s across the table.