The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the training pavilion as Lucien stood quietly in front of his elder sister, Celia Arkanveil. The Flame Garden, as this section of the compound was known, was Celia's domain—a place where heat-resistant stones formed intricate patterns and rare fire-attuned plants bloomed in carefully maintained beds. The air shimmered with residual heat from her morning practice, testament to the intensity of her dedication.
At eighteen, Celia had already established herself as one of the most promising fire-wielders in the younger generation of noble families. What she lacked in raw power compared to Aleron, she made up for in precision and technical mastery. Her auburn hair, pulled back in a practical braid, glinted with copper highlights in the sunlight—a physical manifestation of her affinity for flame.
Lucien approached her with measured steps, his expression unreadable as always. In his palm, he held a crimson seed pulsating with radiant heat—the Phoenix Fire Lotus Seed. It glowed with inner light, occasionally releasing tiny embers that danced in the air before disappearing. Even from a distance, its power was palpable, making the air around it waver like a mirage in the desert.
"This will amplify your firepower and reduce your mana strain," Lucien said with a small smile, extending his hand toward his sister. "Consider it a gift for your upcoming Flame Mastery trial."
Celia looked at it, eyes wide with disbelief. Her hands trembled slightly as she recognized the legendary item. "This… This is priceless. The Phoenix Fire Lotus blooms once every thousand years in the Eternal Flame Fields. How did you...?"
"Then give all your money," Lucien sneered, his serious demeanor breaking into a brief moment of sibling teasing. The familiar jab—a callback to their childhood bargaining—lightened the moment before he returned to his usual composure. "Some questions are better left unanswered, sister. What matters is that it's yours now."
Celia hesitated, her fingers hovering inches from the seed. "Lucien, I've seen how you've been strengthening the family—Uncle Raven, Aleron, even Grandmother. Why me? I'm hardly the strongest among us."
Lucien's eyes softened fractionally—an expression few outside the family would ever witness. "Strength manifests in many forms. Your control over flame is unmatched, but you've been limited by mana capacity and strain. This removes those limitations."
She studied his face, searching for hidden motives. Finding none she could discern, she carefully took the seed.
"Thank you," she said simply, then added with a hint of suspicion, "though I still don't fully understand why."
"Understanding can come later," Lucien replied cryptically. "For now, just accept it."
With a resolute nod, Celia cupped the seed in both hands and closed her eyes. Following ancient cultivation protocols, she aligned her breathing with the pulsing rhythm of the seed. Slowly, she channeled her mana into it, creating a resonance that caused the seed to dissolve into motes of golden-red light. These particles spiraled around her before sinking into her skin, seeking the core of her fire affinity.
As Celia absorbed the seed, a vivid aura of phoenix flame surrounded her for a moment, taking the spectral shape of great wings that enveloped her form. The temperature in the pavilion spiked dramatically, causing nearby decorative crystals to crack from thermal shock. She took a deep breath, feeling the newfound power coursing through her veins—not overwhelming and chaotic like raw magic, but harmonized perfectly with her existing abilities, enhancing rather than disrupting.
When she opened her eyes again, flecks of gold now danced in her irises, a permanent marker of the phoenix essence that had merged with her.
"It's... incredible," she whispered, looking at her hands as tiny flames danced between her fingertips with unprecedented control. "I can feel everything—every spark, every ember. It's like seeing color for the first time after a lifetime of grayscale."
---
[SYSTEM INTERFACE – ACCESS GRANTED]
Name: Celia Arkanveil
Race: Human
Age: 18 Years
Rank: Quasi B-Rank
Level: 40
---
Traits:
• [Blazing Heart – S Grade] (Empowered by Phoenix Fire Lotus Seed)
• [Phoenix Resonance – A Grade] (New Trait Unlocked)
---
Skills:
• Phoenix Flame Control – Lv. 7
• Flame Spear – Lv. 8
• Fire Resistance – Lv. 6
• Phoenix Wings – Lv. 1 (New Skill Unlocked)
---
Mana Efficiency: Increased threefold
Firepower: Tripled
Recovery Rate: Doubled
New Ability: Phoenix Regeneration – Minor wounds heal through flame purification
---
Celia experimentally conjured a flame in her palm—what would normally be a small fireball emerged as a perfectly controlled miniature phoenix, flying around her wrist before dissipating into sparks.
"This changes everything," she said with wonder. "My flames... they're alive now. Responsive. Almost sentient."
Lucien nodded, satisfaction evident in his expression. "The seed didn't just boost your power—it transformed your connection to fire itself. Phoenix flame is semi-sentient by nature. It remembers. It learns."
"The Flame Mastery trials next month..." Celia began, calculations already running behind her eyes.
"Will be a formality now," Lucien finished for her. "But don't reveal your full potential immediately. Keep some abilities in reserve—surprises are valuable assets."
She nodded, understanding the strategic advice. The siblings shared a moment of silent communion before Celia impulsively hugged him—a rare display of affection that momentarily threw Lucien off balance.
"Whatever you're planning," she whispered, "I'm with you. The others might not see it yet, but I do. You're building something."
Lucien returned the embrace briefly before stepping back, his mask of calm calculation returning. "Rest and adjust to your new power. The changes will continue to settle over the next few days."
As he walked away, leaving Celia to experiment with her enhanced abilities, news of another gift from Lucien spread through the compound. The word of Celia's enhancement, combined with Raven's healing and Aleron's evolution, created a ripple effect of excitement and speculation throughout the estate.
---
The entire Arkanveil estate burst into celebration by evening. Servants brought out special reserves of wine from the family cellars, and the central hall was filled with conversation and laughter. The atmosphere was one of optimism and renewed vigor—something the compound hadn't experienced in years.
Taking advantage of the adults' distraction, Elric's sister, El, and Lucien's youngest sister, Trisha, declared Lucien's room their "dragon nest." With the solemn determination only children can muster, they stacked his books into a makeshift castle, arranged his scrolls into "treasure hoards," and hung his cloaks as "dragon wings" from the bedposts.
When Lucien returned to his quarters to prepare for dinner, he found his door barricaded with pillows and guarded by two fierce four-year-olds wielding toy swords.
"Halt, intruder!" Trisha declared, her golden curls bouncing as she brandished her wooden sword. "This is Dragon Mountain now!"
"You must pay tribute to enter!" El added, her expression equally serious despite the berry stain on her cheek from afternoon snacks.
Lucien could only sigh as he stood outside his own room, defeated by the most formidable opponents he'd faced yet—children with imagination.
"What tribute do the mighty dragons require?" he asked, playing along with exaggerated formality.
"Sweets!" both girls shouted in unison.
"And stories!" Trisha added.
"And a real sword!" El contributed with enthusiasm.
"Two out of three," Lucien countered diplomatically. "Sweets and stories I can manage. Real swords will have to wait until you're at least... thirty."
After negotiating passage into his own chambers (at the cost of promised honey cakes and a tale about dragon princesses), Lucien managed to reclaim enough of his space to prepare for the family dinner. The girls continued their dragon play, now incorporating Lucien as the "wise dragon sage" who advised their kingdom.
---
At dinner, with the entire family gathered in the grand hall, the atmosphere was warmer than it had been in years. Raelan sat at the head of the table, with Dorian Arkanveil—the family's patriarch—at his right. The recently healed Raven sat opposite, his presence bringing a sense of completion to the family circle. Aleron had returned from his training realm, his new powers now under careful control. Celia's hair seemed to shimmer with inner fire in the candlelight.
The younger children—Trisha, El, and several cousins—occupied the lower end of the table, their excited chatter a constant background to the adults' more measured conversations. Servants moved efficiently between the kitchens and dining hall, bringing course after course of expertly prepared dishes.
As the meal progressed through its final stages, Dorian Arkanveil—the Steel Colossus of the family—wiped his hands clean on a fine linen napkin and leaned back in his reinforced chair. His massive frame demanded furniture specially crafted to support his weight, a physical reminder of his overwhelming presence.
The table gradually fell silent as he cleared his throat, a signal recognized by all present that important matters were to be discussed.
"There's news," he said, his deep voice resonating through the hall. "Something major has occurred in the northernmost part of the human continent. Beyond the Frostspire Mountains, in the territories bordering the Elder Wastes."
All eyes turned to him, dinner forgotten. The Elder Wastes were spoken of in hushed tones—a place of ancient ruins and terrible power, where the laws of reality grew thin and danger lurked in every shadow.
"A Council meeting has been called," Dorian continued, his expression grave. "Representatives from all major families must attend. As the Arkanveil Elder, I must go."
Lucien's eyes lit up with curiosity. Unlike the others, whose expressions showed concern or apprehension, his revealed intense interest. "Can I come with you, Grandpa?"
Dorian raised a bushy eyebrow, then chuckled, the sound like stone grinding against stone. "You never change, boy. Most would hear 'danger' and step back. You hear it and lean forward."
"I've never seen the Council chambers," Lucien replied smoothly. "And if something significant enough to call an emergency meeting has occurred, wouldn't having more Arkanveil eyes and ears present be beneficial?"
Raelan exchanged a glance with his father. "He has a point. And Lucien has proven himself... resourceful... these past weeks."
Dorian studied his grandson for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Very well," he finally decided. "But you'll stay beside me at all times. The Council chambers are no place for wandering."
"Of course, Grandfather," Lucien agreed, his tone appropriately respectful despite the gleam of triumph in his eyes.
"What exactly happened in the north?" Aleron asked, bringing the conversation back to the primary concern.
Dorian's expression darkened. "That's the troubling part. Reports are fragmented, conflicting. Some speak of a tear in the sky, others of ancient seals being broken. What we know for certain is that an entire outpost of S-rank warriors went silent overnight. The only message received was a single word, transmitted via emergency crystal."
"What word?" Celia asked, leaning forward.
"'Returning,'" Dorian answered grimly. "Just that. 'Returning.'"
A heavy silence fell over the table as everyone processed the implications. Everyone except Lucien, whose eyes remained focused on some distant point, as if seeing something beyond the walls of the dining hall.
"We leave at dawn," Dorian announced, breaking the silence. "Be prepared."
As the family dispersed after dinner, Raven caught up with Lucien in the corridor. "That look in your eyes," the recently healed warrior said quietly. "You know something about this, don't you?"
Lucien's expression revealed nothing. "I know many things, Uncle. But about this particular matter?" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Let's just say I've been preparing for something like this for longer than anyone realizes."
Without elaborating further, he continued down the hallway, leaving Raven to watch his retreating form with a mixture of concern and newfound respect.