Affinity:Chaos

The experts gathered in the Mayor’s courtyard one by one as they awaited his arrival. Soft morning light filtered across the open space, casting long shadows between the assembled figures. The air carried a quiet tension.

A Ninth-stage Sovereign dressed in blue turned to the man standing beside him. "What happened last night? I tried to investigate, but the Mayor’s guards stopped me from approaching that area."

"I wanted to ask you the same thing," the other man replied in a low voice. "When I first sensed the explosions, I thought the Gnomes had finally launched a direct attack on the city. I rushed out immediately, but by the time I got close, the Mayor’s guards had already formed a tight perimeter. They said the Mayor gave clear orders that no one was to pass, and that anyone who tried would be treated as an enemy."

"That serious?" the man in blue asked, slightly taken aback.

"Whatever happened must have something to do with that Grey Dawson," the second man said. He paused, glanced around carefully to make sure no one else was listening too closely, then leaned in. "Think about it. No one has ever dared to start a major fight inside the city before. Yet he arrives, and within two days a battle breaks out that nearly damages an entire district, with the Mayor himself present in the middle of it."

"Does that mean they found the Necromancers?" The blue-robed man’s eyes turned cold. If the Necromancers had truly been located and he had not been invited to take part, he would feel deeply aggrieved.

"We don’t know yet," the other man shook his head. "We can only wait for the Mayor to tell us himself."

The two of them were far from the only ones having such conversations. Almost everyone present was discussing the battle from the previous night in hushed or heated tones, questioning why the Mayor had prevented them from approaching the battlefield and what role the newly arrived Grey Dawson had played.

Time passed steadily. More experts continued to arrive in ones and twos. After an hour, roughly one hundred and thirty Sovereigns stood gathered in the courtyard, all between the Seventh and Ninth stages of the Sovereign Plane. Such a force would shake most regions if assembled in one place, yet here they were, still largely confined to defending against the Gnomes’ continuous attacks without being able to strike back in any decisive way. The weight of prolonged war hung over the entire gathering.

When a man carrying a large broadsword on his back entered the courtyard, he immediately drew the attention of everyone present. He had cold, sharp eyes, a rough beard, and long black hair that draped over his wide shoulders. His presence alone caused several quieter conversations to pause.

"I heard the Mayor handed the siege against the Necromancers over to a kid," he commented loudly as he walked in, making no effort to lower his voice.

"Torren, you saw that kid a few years ago," a slightly obese man called out from the side, a clearly playful tone in his voice. "What do you have to say about him?"

"Hmph. He’s nothing more than an insolent brat," Torren snorted coldly. "If not for his father, he would be nothing."

"You can’t say that," the obese man burst into mocking laughter that drew a few nearby glances. "Your nephew was the useless one. That has nothing to do with the boy’s father."

Torren’s eyes turned colder when he heard the man’s words and his intense will to fight almost materialized.

The Ninth-stage Sovereign in blue could not help but ask the man beside him in a low voice, "What’s their problem?"

"They’re both from the Pyrmond Faction, same as Grey Dawson," the man explained quietly, keeping his voice down. "Some years ago, when Grey first appeared and joined the Faction, almost no one knew he was the son of Lucas Dawson..."

He went on to recount the old incident in more detail. At the time, Grey’s talent had already been recognized as exceptional, though his cultivation was still relatively low compared to the true experts of the Faction. He was highly regarded by the Faction Leader and, like most young geniuses, carried a certain natural pride. Eventually he came into conflict with a young man from the Archibald Family. Believing Grey had no solid background worth fearing, the Archibald youth tried to oppress him and seize treasures in his possession. The matter escalated quickly until the young man nearly succeeded in killing Grey. Grey survived the attempt and, without hesitation, killed the Archibald youth in return.

One of the Pyrmond Faction’s Grand Elders, a true pillar of the Faction’s strength, came from the Archibald Family. They naturally refused to let the death of one of their own rest. It was even said at the time that Torren, whose favorite nephew had been the one killed, wanted to personally end Grey’s life to settle the score. Then Lucas Dawson’s name arrived. No one in their right mind would dare make a move to kill the son of Lucas Dawson once his identity was made clear.

In addition to Lucas Dawson’s overwhelming reputation, there was also the powerful family standing behind Grey’s mother, who herself had been a top genius in her own generation. Combined with the Faction Leader’s clear and continued favoritism toward Grey, the Archibald Family was left with no real choice but to abandon any open plans for revenge. That forced restraint, however, did not mean the grudge had disappeared. It had only been buried.

The man in blue listened with growing surprise. He had heard vague rumors years ago about a particularly talented genius joining the Pyrmond Faction during its period of recovery, but he had never paid those rumors any real attention. He had not imagined that the same genius had nearly been killed inside his own Faction, only to survive the attempt and eventually grow into one of the most important rising figures of the current generation of the human race.

While the discussions and quiet arguments continued across the courtyard, a sudden shift in the atmosphere swept through the entire gathering. Conversations quieted almost at once as more than a hundred powerful senses turned toward the door of the manor that just opened. Two youths stood side by side, with a small black cat perched on the shoulder of one of them.

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