He said it in the sa tone one might use to offer a second helping of rice. Which, considering the context, was ridiculous. Mount Hua wasn't just a sect—it was the sect. The beating heart of the Eastern continent's martial world. And their Elders? Ascendant-rank, minimum. People who could split a mountain or crush a tank with their aura if the mood struck them.
Honorary Elder.
The words hung in the air like a sword over an unwatched head.
I didn't respond imdiately, because even I needed a second to recalibrate my expectations of reality. Fortunately, Luna spoke in my mind before I could make a fool of myself.
'It's a good deal,' she said. 'Take it. You need a reason to be here, this gives you one. They're giving you authority without making you bend the knee. Smart move.'
And it was smart. Because I wasn't from the Eastern continent. Technically, I didn't have the right to insert myself into their war. But now, with this? I wasn't interfering—I was fulfilling a sect obligation. Political maneuvering disguised as flattery. I liked it.
Seraphina, standing beside with arms crossed and eyebrow raised, clearly wasn't as imdiately convinced.
"Uncle," she said, turning to Li, "Arthur's not even an Ascendant-ranker yet."
It was a valid point. Harsh, but fair.
Li waved it off with the sort of confident dismissal only a man who had personally outdueled a wyvern and then complained the tea had gone cold could manage.
"He took down a Vampire Elder on his own," he said. "That's more than so of our Elders can say. Half of them wouldn't have walked out of that fight. His rank may be Integration, but his strength punches two leagues up. And more importantly—Arthur wants to level up even further, don't you?"
He looked at then, not like he was asking a question, but like he was already filling out the paperwork and just needed to nod.
And I did.
Because he was right.
I was at high Integration-rank. The Wall to Ascendant was in sight—seven months, give or take. But mana wasn't everything. Skill mattered. Experience mattered. And there was no experience quite like a continent-wide war against bloodsucking immortal aristocrats.
I had trained hard in the Well of Miasma, sharpened every edge I had. But this was the real crucible now—actual battle, with lives on the line and no do-overs and dealing with war plans and tactics.
And—if I was being honest—I didn't want to leave Seraphina behind.
Not that she needed protecting. She was the princess of Mount Hua, a force in her own right. But after everything we'd been through, standing on the sidelines while she walked into hell wasn't an option I was willing to accept.
Besides, my masters were fighting. The Martial King was already clashing with the Vampire Monarch in the north. Li himself would be on the front lines soon. It wouldn't be right for their disciple to do anything less.
So I gave Li a nod, and the words that followed felt oddly natural for sothing so weighty.
"I'll do it. I accept the title."
Li smiled the way old warriors do—half pride, half pity. Because he knew exactly what kind of fire I was walking into.
"Good," he said. "Welco to the war, Elder Nightingale."
Seraphina's question hit like a thrown boot in the middle of a quiet room.
"But what about your parents?"
I froze mid-step. It was a simple enough sentence, the kind you'd ask a friend who forgot their keys. But it carried the weight of a freight train.
Right. My parents. My sister. The part of my life that hadn't seen miasma, war councils, or ancient vampire monarchs. The part that still expected ssages and birthdays and maybe a casual holo-call now and then.
I turned to Li, who was lounging in that particular Mount Hua way where it looked like he was doing absolutely nothing but was probably planning soone's funeral three steps in advance.
"Could I visit them?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.
He didn't even pretend to smile. Just sipped his tea with the serenity of soone watching a house burn down from across the street.
"It's difficult," he said, which in Eastern political terms translated to next to impossible. "We have military-grade transports, yes. But diverting one to the Slatemark Empire just to shuttle a single person there and back…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Resources were stretched thinner than ration noodles, and everything that could fly was either transporting troops or supplies. And the warp gates? Completely offline, shut down tighter than a noble's wallet during tax season.
I thought, briefly, about calling in favors. Rose had pull. Cecilia had more than that—Imperial weight behind her na and titles that made intercontinental red tape vanish like a bad dream. But I shook the idea off. I wasn't going to use them for sothing like this.
No, I'd do what people in a high-tech, post-transcendental society always did in emotional situations.
I made a video call.
The screen flickered for a mont—Eastern continent networks weren't built for high-traffic warzones—and then my parents' living room ca into view. It was late evening in the Empire. Comfortable lighting, the faint sll of coffee probably hanging in the air.
My mother was the first to appear. Alice Nightingale, black hair tied into a loose bun, blue eyes sharp enough to cut glass even through pixels. She was still in her work blouse, but her expression softened the mont she saw .
"Arthur?" she said, moving closer to the screen. "It's really you."
My father appeared over her shoulder—Douglas Nightingale, broader than in the shoulders, still wearing that quiet, analytical frown he always carried like a second skin.
Then Aria slid into fra, clearly having dashed from another room. Her hair was ssier than usual, tied back in a rush, and she was wearing a Slatemark Academy sweatshirt. Second-year. Top 5% in the second-best academy in the world, and she made sure everyone knew it.
"Where have you been?" she blurted. "Do you know how many rumors are going around about the Eastern continent right now?"
"I've been busy," I said. Understatent of the decade.
"Busy with what, saving the world?" she shot back, arms crossed. The answer, of course, was yes, but I didn't say it.
Douglas stepped in, ever the diplomat. "We saw the news from the Eastern continent. Vampires, war movents, Radiant clashes. And now Mount Hua's involved."
"They asked to beco an Honorary Elder," I said.
You could've heard a pin drop. Or, more likely, the gentle hum of a ceiling fan in their living room. Even Aria stopped mid-eye-roll.
"You're what now?" Alice said slowly.
"Honorary Elder," I repeated. "It gives the right to stay, to fight. It's not just ceremonial. They're going to need every capable fighter, and I… I have to be here. I want to be here."
Douglas didn't argue. He didn't need to. His eyes flicked to Alice, then Aria, then back to . He understood. He always had.
Alice, though, leaned forward. "Arthur, I know you think you have to carry this weight. But you're not even twenty yet. Do you understand what you're walking into?"
"I do," I said quietly. "I've already seen it. I've fought in it."
Aria was biting her lip now, clearly unsure whether to tell I was an idiot or just cry. "You're always doing this. You run off to Mythos, then end up in so secret realm, and now you're in a continent-wide war zone? What are you trying to prove?"
"Nothing," I said. "I'm not trying to prove anything."
They didn't speak for a mont. Then Douglas finally gave a small nod. The kind that said he'd support , even if it broke him to do so.
Alice sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Promise you'll call more."
"I will."
"And if things get worse," Aria added quickly, "you let us know. You don't just go silent again. Or I swear I'll co to Mount Hua myself."
"Understood," I said, cracking a tired smile.
"We love you," Alice said.
"Love you too," I replied. And then the screen faded, leaving only my reflection and the silence of the room.
Behind , Seraphina didn't say anything. She just placed a hand on my shoulder, gentle and grounding.
I hadn't realized how much I needed that.
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