[Phoenix Estate – Grand Hall]
A silence thick as blood hung in the air.
The grand hall, lit by ever-burning mana torches, had been roaring just seconds ago with accusations and shouts.
Now… nothing.
All heads had swiveled sharply toward the shadowed corner of the marble chamber.
Everyone present in the hall was staring at the corner from which that voice came.
Marshal Derox's face was frozen mid-frown, his mouth open, mid-breath.
Evelyn leaned forward in her seat, brows furrowed.
Even Edward Phoenix, hailed as the strongest mage of this generation, stared at the corner—eyes narrowed. His mana fluctuated faintly, cautiously.
His voice finally cut through the stillness.
"Who dared to enter the hall without my permission?" Edward's tone was laced with dangerous cold.
"Only Marshals have the right to attend this meeting."
(The mana pressure increased slightly. Sparks of invisible energy began coiling around his hands.)
From the shadows came a voice—calm, yet clear.
"I apologise… but I had to come. For a reason."
[Corner of the Hall – Illusion Breaks]
A shimmer tore the air like peeling cloth.
Waves of broken light bent around a tall figure as the invisibility spell was slowly decast.
The veil fell completely.
A cloaked figure stood there.
Jet-black cloak with golden lining. Red eyes sharp like blades.
Reyon Phoenix.
Every Marshal, Edward included, shot up from their chairs.
"That's… Reyon…?" Evelyn muttered under her breath.
The air thickened again—but not with tension. With disbelief.
Edward stepped forward, rage carefully sheathed beneath his prideful composure.
"I don't know how you entered here and kept yourself hidden from us," he said, his voice like a blade unsheathed.
"But you do know, right? That you can't infiltrate a Marshal's meeting. This is not a playground."
Reyon tilted his head, completely unshaken.
"Yeah, I know." He folded his arms.
"But I'm the reason why this meeting happened in the first place."
(Edward's brow twitched. That confidence… it reminded him of someone. Leywin Pheonix.)
"What?" Edward's voice boomed. "What are you even talking about? Are you… are you related to the Classers?"
His tone turned sharp. "I knew you were active in a neighbouring nation after you left the clan. But I didn't know you joined Classers. So what do you mean—you're the reason for this meeting?"
Reyon stared at him without blinking. His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to.
"I'm the leader of Classers," Reyon said.
"And the person who defeated Marshal Serena."
The words landed like thunder on dry ground.
Shock cracked across every face.
Edward and Evelyn's eyes widened in sync.
Marshal Derox's veins bulged as he shot up from his chair.
"Reyon! Stop spouting nonsense!" he roared.
"Are you saying a puny brat—not even twenty!—defeated Cold Sword! A veteran 8th-circle magician?!"
Reyon just nodded. Once. Quietly. Firmly.
Derox's face turned red, his knuckles whitening as he slammed the table.
"Lady Serena!" he barked. "Why are you silent?! Tell us the truth!"
All eyes turned toward the once-proud Cold Sword, who stood with folded arms.
Serena, her silver hair cascading down her back, didn't flinch.
"It's the truth," she said calmly.
"He is the one who defeated me."
(Shock. Gasps.)
"And he also killed Berth. And took over Classers."
The entire hall trembled.
Derox stood again, his face dark with disbelief.
"I will see for myself if he has this much strength!" he roared. His hand rose, fire mana already coiling.
But before he could even chant, Evelyn raised her hand—and a whip of compressed air slammed him backward into his seat.
He gasped, wide-eyed.
"Enough, Derox," Evelyn said firmly. "It's the Patriarch who should judge this. Not you."
Derox growled under his breath but remained seated, gritting his teeth.
Evelyn turned toward Serena.
"Please stop with your jokes. Are you serious about what you just said?"
Serena nodded again. Unwavering.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Could it be… you went easy on him? After seeing his face?"
Her voice lowered into a suspicious tone.
"Well… he defeated an elite 7th-circle in this hall a few months back. So I could understand your defeat if you… hesitated."
Serena shook her head.
"I didn't hesitate. As he was wearing a mask at first."
"I even used Absolute Zero against him."
(A chill spread in the hall—not magic, but pure awe and fear.)
"And still… I lost."
Silence. Dead silence.
A pin could've dropped and shattered the air.
Evelyn staggered backward and fell into her chair.
Her voice came out in a whisper. "You… used Absolute Zero…"
Even she couldn't hide the tremor in her tone.
Derox's heart began to pound.
Marshal Hilt's face went pale as he recalled that chilling, deathly spell from years past.
(He and Derox had fought Cold Sword together once… and nearly died to that very technique.)
"Impossible…" Hilt muttered. "That boy… survived it?"
Edward's expression darkened. His jaw clenched. The armrest of his grand chair cracked under his fingers.
"Stop your jokes, Serena!" Edward barked, unable to contain the fury.
(Fragments of the wooden armrest dropped to the floor with a soft tap.)
He took a step forward, voice quaking with restrained rage.
"The statement you just gave would make Reyon the heir," he shouted.
His voice echoed through the chamber.
"You understand that… right?!"
Everyone froze again.
Serena didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
Everyone had heard it. Seen it. Accepted it.
Reyon stood there, unmoving. Cold and calm as ever.
The forgotten son. The lost genius. The new force.