There was a long silence after Alex’s cold declaration.
The kind of silence that lingered in the air like smoke after fire—heavy, bitter, final.
But Nyxara, ever the one to keep things moving, finally broke it.
"So... what’s the plan?"
Alex turned to look at her. His gaze was calm now, too quiet. The kind of calm that only ca after anger had settled into sothing colder. Sothing sharper.
"There is no plan this ti," he said quietly.
Nyxara blinked. "What do you an?"
"Unlike Khepri," Alex replied, his voice steady, "Cassius doesn’t have a family."
Nyxara raised a brow. "That doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t he have an heir and seven kids?"
Alex shook his head slowly. "Not in the way that matters. Cassius never married. No bloodline heirs. No siblings that anyone’s found."
He paused for a mont before continuing.
"But... he does have sothing close."
Nyxara tilted her head, listening.
"He took in seven orphans. Years ago. No one knows where he picked them out personally from, but rumours say it was from so naless orphanage in Eastern Europe—kids no one would’ve missed. Trained them from scratch. Raised them like weapons, not children."
"They’re not family in the traditional sense," Alex added, "but he made them his. Body, mind, and loyalty. They’re known now as the Seven Knight Pillars of Europe."
Nyxara’s ears twitched slightly. She’d heard whispers of them before— who hadn’t but this was the first ti she was hearing that he wasn’t the one who gave birth to them.
"They control the seven highest legions of knights on the continent," Alex continued. "Each one commands thousands: grandmasters, all of them.
And the most surprising thing about it is that six of the Grandmasters—each of them has a Legend-rank talent."
"That’s..." Nyxara’s expression hardened. "That’s absurd." She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Legend rank talents were not sothing that could be found just anywhere; all the Legend rank talents she knew ca from families in higher clans, with parents who were core mbers of those clans, and they were few.
Alex nodded. "The youngest is barely twenty-two. But the most surprising is the oldest—a Mystic-rank talent. He’s the one Cassius has chosen to inherit his legacy: Nelson Aelous."
"So no blood ties," she said slowly, Nyxara would be lying of she said she wasn’t shocked about what she just heard as even though the it wasn’t for everyone, the bloodline one is born from mostly determines their talent, "but still... a clan, in all but na."
Alex didn’t deny it.
"Exactly," he said. "And if we’re going to tear down Cassius..."
He looked out the window now, where the city lights blinked below them like scattered embers.
"Then we’ll have to go through them first."
----
In the very core of Europe, once known as Russia, there lay a grand city, renowned for its formidable fortifications that had stood the test of ti.
At its heart, encircled by an aura of enchantnt and vigilant oversight, stood an expansive estate steeped in legacy and tradition.
This estate housed an impressive mansion, its architecture a striking blend of opulence and strength—a testant to the authority and influence wielded by its inhabitants.
This majestic abode belonged to the ruling family of the Wind Clan. Among them towered Cassius Aeolus, the fabled Patriarch of the clan, whose very na resonated with power throughout the lands.
Down one of the expansive corridors that led to the opulent main hall, the rhythmic echo of footsteps reverberated against the polished stone floors. Accompanying this sound was a low murmur of conversation that hinted at the urgency of their mission.
Three figures glided along the corridor, moving in perfect harmony—two won and a man, each distinguished by a tunic embroidered with the clan’s emblem, a symbol of their loyalty and heritage.
At their sides, swords hung with an almost reverent weight, the hilts gleaming as they swayed gently with each purposeful stride. The air was thick with anticipation, as if the very walls of the estate held their breath, awaiting the unfolding of destiny.
At the center walked Sophie, the oldest among them. Her silver knight’s tunic shimred faintly under the corridor’s enchanted lighting, and her flowing cape fluttered behind her with quiet grace. She walked like the wind—silent, composed, and sharp.
Her cold, elegant face carried the aura of a disciplined knight—unflinching, beautiful, and distant.
To her left strode Maja, a stark contrast to Sophie. Dressed in a bright yellow tunic and a playful cape, Maja’s presence was warm and expressive.
A near-permanent smile curved her cheeks, and her short, slightly chubby figure radiated comfort rather than nace. If Sophie was the ice, Maja was the sun—easygoing, cheerful, and just as deadly when it counted.
On Sophie’s right walked Soren, a man of lean stature and quiet strength. His green tunic and cape blended naturally with the subtle magic in the air, as if the wind bent around him.
Calm, calculated, and confident, his sharp eyes missed nothing, though his expression rarely shifted from its relaxed composure.
"So, Sophie," Maja asked lightly, glancing over. "Do you know why we’re being summoned?"
Sophie didn’t break her stride. "I don’t know," she replied, her voice cool and asured. "Father rarely calls us like this."
Maja tilted her head. "Hmm. That’s not ominous at all." She then looked toward Soren. "What about you? Any theories?"
Soren gave a small shrug, his voice smooth and unbothered. "If Sophie doesn’t know, how would I?"
Maja puffed her cheeks in mock annoyance but didn’t argue. He had a point. Sophie was not only the oldest but also their superior in rank. If she had no information, the rest of them could only speculate.
Their steps continued in silence, boots clicking softly against the polished marble floor, until they reached a grand double door at the end of the corridor.
The massive doors were laced with glowing sigils and intricate wind-etched patterns that seed to move subtly, like shifting currents.
None of them slowed down. As they approached, the doors parted on their own with a low hum, revealing the chamber beyond.
Without hesitation, the three stepped inside.
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