Evrin and Einar also voiced their support amidst the smiles and laughter. Evrin even said, "There are great expectations on my shoulders from my family. But I was never the right person for it. I am not as strong as Aunt Vidalia, as brave as my mother, or as talented as my grandmother.. But this is a goal I can stand behind with all my ability and will. Goddess Astraea treasures life above all else. I hope they understand it too."
Damian understood what she ant. Maelor, Lucian, Evrin—they were good kids. Despite their wealth, respect from their peers, and the reverence of commoners—not to ntion their young age—they were remarkably self-aware. Never once had Damian felt like he was talking to people younger than him; they felt just like his usual friends. So, in fact, were even better than them.
"I am not asking you to sever all ties with your families," Damian clarified. "In fact, we will need those connections when making necessary deals. As long as you keep the safety and progress of the sanctuary above personal interests, you will always remain the princess of Eldoris."
He looked at the others and added, "It's the sa for all of you. I never knew the warmth of loving parents, but I understand the role they play in a child's life. That bond can never be severed."
He said it, though a bit of lancholy surfaced as he rembered Sister Hadley. But before it could linger, Maelor and Sam placed reassuring hands on his shoulders and smiled encouragingly. He returned the gesture, his expression shifting back to normal.
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"Okay… I need to go now. You guys better be ready for the dungeon. If they agree, we will have one heck of a job ahead. We'll need to climb as high in levels as possible. The Land Breaker aside, the dungeon holds secrets that could truly change this world. It is the oldest unconquered one, after all."
Lucian, Einar, and Reize all nodded with determination. Damian finally left them behind and walked out of the room.
Outside, near the workshop, Soulfella and two second-ranker guards were already waiting, most likely looking for him. He t them and proceeded toward the bastion gates after a bit of conversation and changes regarding his weapons and storage devices.
This was only his second ti entering, yet it felt different now. Instead of heading straight for the dungeon entrance or the side hallways leading to the basent, he was led directly into the massive hall where the Commander of the Highswords and the twelve mbers of the High Table—known as the Grand Blades—were usually seated.
This was the place where world-changing decisions had been made. But now, it was stained. The highest seat, that of the Supre Blade, had been vacant for over half a century.
The room was already packed. Beyond the twelve stone chairs arranged around the large stone table, positioned under the commander's seat, there was additional space facing the thirteen stone chairs made like thrones of so palace for other third-rankers—there were nineteen of them present today, known as High Blades.
The air here was oppressive. The combined auras of so many powerful individuals could force even second-rankers to their knees. Because of this, the guards had not followed him inside. Only Soulfella remained, likely given the task because he cared nothing for Damian at all. He hadn't said a single word on the way in. Perhaps he was neutral—or simply indifferent to everything going on in the world.
Damian was led to stand in the middle, between the High Table and the seated High Blades. Everyone else was seated. He alone was left standing.
When so seconds went by and no one spoke, he murmured in an obscure foreign language and traced a runic circle for wood-style, creating a comfortable chair for himself in the center. Imdiately, several mbers eyed him warily, so even standing, anticipating an attack. He just ignored them though and sat down with Toph in his lap.
Now, the eting could begin.
The High Table—the twelve Grand Blades—included figures Damian recognized: Worldscribe, Runefather, Hellseeker, Sunkeeper, Lifewarden, Silverspell, and the man seated beside Hellseeker, most likely Voidshaper. Even that petite, short woman was among them. However, they weren't at full strength—only ten were present.
Many of the mana signatures were unfamiliar to him. He wondered why so many were gathered here. So of these individuals resided permanently in the dungeon. Their numbers were lower than the full total of 27 third rankers that were in the Highsword organization, but still… Had they all been summoned for a reason?
The academy was about to start in a few days, but that couldn't be it. Were they planning sothing for when he entered the dungeon? Perhaps. Or maybe it was just paranoia—this could be for sothing completely unrelated to him.
Still, he rembered detecting new mana signatures arriving at the bastion since this morning. He hadn't paid attention before, but now it seed worth noting.
Finally, the eting began. One of the ten Grand Blades stood and addressed the gathering, stating the eting number, the reason they had assembled, and an introduction of Maximus—his research, his work, and his reputation. The process felt like so kind of corporate board eting.
Every so often, mbers sneaked glances at Damian, whispering among themselves about how the aura pressure didn't seem to affect him. Of course, after handling so much mana, Damian's mana control was on an entirely different level. He no longer needed to release a vast amount of mana to withstand the pressure; instead, he could weave a thin layer of it around specific areas of his body, allowing him to maintain resistance for half a day—even with his ager personal mana pool.
Initially, he had brought a mana liquid container with him, but before entering the bastion, Soulfella insisted he remove all spatial storage and runic accessories. The man had been adamant about this point. Damian had no choice but to leave everything in his room.
At last the guy sat down and Lifewarden spoke.
"So… Tell us, student Maximus. What is this deal you ntioned to your headmaster?"
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