The Emberbane Household,
The grand dining hall of the Emberbane estate was a marvel of decadence—tall obsidian pillars lined the chamber, each carved with roaring flames that seemed to flicker under the warm golden light of floating mana-lamps. A long table of polished obsidian stretched down the hall, its surface laden with steaming platters of roasted beast meat, golden-crusted poultry, and exotic side dishes garnished with glowing spices. Silverware gleamed under the light, and crystal goblets of aged wine reflected the flickering embers from the fireplace at the end of the room.
At the head of the table sat Valerian Emberbane, his very presence suffocating. His crimson-red eyes held the weight of command, and his broad frame exuded dominance, as if the very air bent to his will. He was not merely a patriarch—he was a ruler in his own right. Beside him, his wife Selene Emberbane, a regal woman of sharp cheekbones and fiery auburn hair, exuded a different kind of power—one of control and keen intelligence. The way she held her fork, slow and deliberate, spoke of a mind that missed nothing.
The air in the dining hall was thick, though not with the rich aroma of spices or the sizzling meats. No, the weight pressing down on Angus was something else entirely.
The servants stood along the walls, unmoving, their gazes lowered as though afraid to meet the eyes of the Emberbane Lord. The only sounds in the room were the quiet clinks of cutlery against fine china and the soft hum of a mana-screen, broadcasting the evening news.
Then, Valerian finally spoke.
"A little issue has occurred, my dear," his voice rumbled, deep and unwavering, as he cut through his steak with precise ease. "I need to visit the site. You know how vital our project is to the grand goal."
Selene sighed, swirling the dark wine in her glass before taking a sip. "I really don't understand how this slipped past us. If we had acted earlier, this wouldn't have escalated to such an extent."
Her tone was even, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.
Angus focused on his plate, chewing slowly, carefully, willing himself to be as unnoticeable as the servants pressed against the walls. His fingers clenched subtly around his fork, but he didn't dare move too suddenly.
Then it happened.
"Angus."
He stiffened.
His father's voice was deceptively smooth, but the underlying weight sent a shiver down his spine.
"Any progress on your side of things?"
Angus felt the urge to sink into the very obsidian floor beneath him. He swallowed hard, placing his utensils down carefully before lifting his gaze.
"Uhm… not exactly," he admitted, his voice measured. "It would be suspicious if I suddenly changed overnight, but I do have a plan. One that aligns with our interests and ensures the best possible outcome."
His words were chosen carefully, but before Valerian could respond, the news broadcast interrupted them.
The large mana-screen flickered as the voice of a journalist filled the room.
"Tonight, we witnessed both devastation and courage. While the battle against the Blazebane Howler brought sorrow, it also revealed unexpected heroes—young warriors who risked their lives for a village on the brink of ruin."
The footage shifted, showing the village's devastated remains, then cutting to an elderly woman with tear-filled eyes, clutching the hands of a group of young fighters.
"We owe them everything," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "They didn't have to help us, but they did. They saved us. These young warriors… they are the light in this darkness."
Then, the camera panned, displaying familiar faces.
Roy, standing confidently as the villagers cheered for him. Mellissa, glowing with newfound recognition. Jay and Logan, working tirelessly to aid the wounded. And then—Denwen.
Angus's grip on the table tightened as his supposed failure paraded itself before him.
Then came the voice that made his blood boil.
"Hmm…" Selene mused, her lips curling ever so slightly. "Look at that. Even the Ignisclade girl has made a name for herself tonight. And yet, here we have someone else… eating his life away."
Angus felt his chest tighten.
It was not the words themselves that cut him. It was the tone—the slow, deliberate, almost amused cruelty.
He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with precise politeness. "Thank you for dinner," he said, his voice steady, though a fire raged within him. "I'll be heading to my room."
His parents continued eating and talking as though they hadn't heard anything from their son as he walked away, his hands clenched into fists. The moment he reached his chamber, the mask cracked—his face twisting in silent fury as the embers of humiliation burned within him.
---
The next day.
Back home, Denwen sat in his dimly lit room, adjusting his cloak. The fabric was dark, meant to obscure his figure during missions, and his face change device that he wore to become Ren, rested on the bed beside him.
Stacks of cores gleamed on his desk—his hard-earned spoils from the battle. With enough of these, he could keep up with his growth. He double-checked his spatial ring, ensuring his gear was intact before slipping his mask over his face.
Just as he was about to slip through the window—
"Hey bro, can you help me with—"
Denwen spun around so fast that his hood nearly flew off.
Nicole stood in the doorway, holding a small crystal in her hand. Her mouth opened, then froze. Her gaze locked onto the masked figure in front of her.
Her eyes widened in horror.
"WHO ARE YOU, MISTER? HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY BROTHER'S ROOM?!" she shrieked, taking a defensive stance.
Panic surged through Denwen as he lurched forward, clamping a hand over her mouth. "Nicole, shut up—it's me!" he hissed.
She blinked at him.
Then, a mischievous twinkle sparkled in her eyes.
She inhaled.
And then—
"MOM, WE HAVE AN—MPHHH!"
Denwen shoved a cake into her mouth.
Nicole's eyes bulged as the sweet, creamy pastry smothered her words. Her arms flailed as she struggled against him, but the frosting worked its magic.
The battle was over.
Nicole chewed angrily before swallowing. Then, with a dramatic "hmph," she turned her back to him, arms crossed.
"You owe me, big bro," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "BIG time."
Denwen let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Just… don't say anything."
Nicole smirked. "Depends. How much is my silence worth?"
Denwen groaned.
Today's mission just got a whole lot more expensive.