Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

Chapter 386: The Celestial Zenith [Bonus Chapter]

Silas looked down at the beautiful noblewoman smoothing his coat, keeping his voice calm.

"I learn from experiences that I face... every single thing I have experienced reflects in my battle style, both the good and the bad."

He could have said Morwenna helped him out but what was the point of that?

Seraphina’s fingers paused over his chest.

A flicker of quiet uncharacteristic sorrow touched her crimson eyes.

"I see..." Seraphina murmured, her hands gently tracing the outline of his ribs through the inner lining of the coat. "And what of your parents? Did they teach you things about life?"

"They died when I was born," Silas answered flatly, his voice lacked any sort of self-pity. "I raised Lia by myself. Everything I know about life, I taught myself in a way."

Seraphina stared up at him, her heart aching with a sudden wave of respect.

In high society, nobles inherited power, land, and ancestral artifacts without lifting a finger.

Yet the man standing before her had clawed his way out of the bottom of human existence, carrying his little sister on his back through the filth and blood of the slums to stand as an equal before the elite.

’He is strong,’ Seraphina thought, a fierce protective warmth blooming in her chest as her hands slowly moved up to rest against his broad shoulders. ’Not just physically... but in his spirit. He didn’t break and he didn’t bow.’

She looked directly into his eyes, her rosy blush deepening.

"You won’t have to carry everything alone anymore, Silas. When we are wed, the entire treasury of House Bloom will be at your disposal. You will never have to scrape for scraps again."

Silas let out a small chuckle, reaching up and gently, firmly taking her wrists to lower her hands from his shoulders.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Princess," Silas said smoothly, stepping back toward the mirror. "But I prefer building my own empire with my own hands. I don’t need charity."

Seraphina looked down at her hands, where the ghost of his warm, calloused grip still lingered, and a slow radiant smile touched her lips.

’You truly are impossible to tame,’ she thought fondly. ’Which only makes me want you more.’

CLICK-CHUNK!

The doors swung open once more.

Silas stepped out into the main showroom, dressed in the full Imperial Midnight ensemble.

The long tailored duster flowed around his calves with every step, the deep midnight-black fabric contrasting brilliantly against the pristine white dragon-leather trousers and combat boots.

The silver runes along the collar gave his imposing frame the undeniable aura of a sovereign dark monarch commanding the battlefield.

Harper, who was sitting slouched on the velvet sofa with her arms crossed and her cheeks puffed out in a massive pout, slowly looked up.

Her jaw dropped open.

"Holy... shit," Harper breathed, her annoyance instantly evaporating into pure aesthetic worship. "Okay... okay, fine. The princess actually cooked. You look like a literal final boss."

Seraphina strode out behind him with her head held high, radiating smug triumph.

"Naturally. A Bloom maiden’s eye for sovereign elegance is without equal. That is an undisputed 9.8 out of 10."

"Don’t get cocky, Princess!" Harper yelled, leaping up from the sofa with renewed energy. "Round three! Let’s go!"

Silas pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a soul-weary groan.

"Please, God, no..."

What followed over the next hour was a merciless gauntlet of fashion warfare.

The two competitive Lords dragged Silas through an endless dizzying montage of high-society attire.

SWISH.

He wore an enchanted crimson-and-gold formal vest woven from solar-serpent scales that accentuated his broad chest.

SWISH.

He wore a tailored abyssal-navy combat blazer with reinforced mythril shoulder pauldrons.

SWISH.

He wore a high-collared white martial robe trimmed with celestial wolf fur that made him look like an ancient elven warlord.

By the time the frenzy finally wound down, eight massive rolling garment racks stood behind the sofas, completely overloaded with dozens of bespoke designer suits, combat tunics, enchanted dusters, and leather trousers.

Silas stood in the center of the showroom, wearing the original charcoal shadow-silk shirt and dark trousers, looking like a man who had just marched fifty miles through an active artillery barrage.

His eyes were glazed over, his shoulders slouched in utter soul-crushing fatigue.

Stationed near the elevator doors, Reginald stood quietly, watching the exhausted young Lord with deep sympathy.

The veteran butler slowly shook his head, offering Silas a subtle, sorrowful look that practically screamed...

’Stay strong, young master. Survival is a victory.’

Ten minutes later, the group descended the private glass elevator and arrived at the grand marble-paved ground-floor reception lobby of the Grand Celestia.

The private staff had carefully packed the mountain of luxury garments into thirty-two heavy matte-black garment bags stamped with gold foil, stacking them onto four rolling brass luggage carts.

Silas shuffled behind the two women, dragging his feet like a condemned prisoner approaching the gallows.

Waiting behind the elevated obsidian reception desk was the chief cashier... an immaculate woman with pinned blonde hair, wearing a sleek silver uniform.

She offered a deep, reverent bow as the group approached.

"Welcome back, Lady Whitmore, Lady Bloom, Lord Graves," the cashier beamed professionally. "I trust your private session in the Sanctuary was thoroughly satisfactory?"

"It was exceptional," Harper smirked, casually leaning her elbow on the marble counter. "Ring everything up."

"Certainly, Lady Whitmore," the cashier replied, picking up a heavy, glowing crystal-optic scanner ledger.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The crystal scanner flashed in rapid succession as it synchronized with the magical RFID tags embedded inside all thirty-two garment bags.

Lines of encrypted transaction data, itemized tax codes, and sovereign luxury levies scrolled rapidly down the glowing holographic display floating above the counter.

After several seconds, the scanner emitted a cheerful, high-pitched DING!

The final total materialized in massive, glowing golden numbers in the center of the lobby.

=========================================

[GRAND CELESTIA HAUTE COUTURE SANCTUARY]

[TOTAL MERCHANDISE: 32 BESPOKE PIECES]

[VIP SANCTUARY RESERVATION FEE: INCLUDED]

-----------------------------------------

FINAL BALANCE: 8,450,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

Silas stared at the glowing numbers.

His heart physically stopped beating for two full seconds. His pale eyes bulged behind his bangs with the color completely draining from his face.

’EIGHT POINT FOUR FIVE MILLION CREDITS?!’ Silas screamed in the silent horrified caverns of his own mind. ’FOR CLOTHES?! NOT AGAIN... NOT AGAIN... I COULD BUY AN ENTIRE DISTRICT IN THE LOWER SECTOR FOR THAT MUCH MONEY! THESE PEOPLE ARE OUT OF THEIR GODDAMN MINDS!’

Before Silas could open his mouth to demand they return thirty-one of the bags immediately, Harper reached into the pocket of her tailored trousers.

"Put it on House Whitmore’s primary corporate—" Harper began casually.

"Hold your tongue, commoner!" Seraphina interrupted sharply, stepping forward and shoving Harper’s shoulder aside with noble disdain. "Silas is the prospective consort of House Bloom. His wardrobe is an ancestral investment, and House Bloom will settle the ledger in full!"

Seraphina reached into the inner lapel of her tailored crimson blazer, feeling around for her platinum family crest card.

Her fingers grasped empty air.

Seraphina paused.

Her sharp crimson eyes blinked once, twice, three times. She frantically patted down her other pocket, then checked the side lining of her blazer with her face growing visibly stiffer by the microsecond.

Standing two paces behind her, Reginald cleared his throat with a soft, polite Ahem.

The elderly butler stepped forward, leaning down slightly toward Seraphina’s ear, speaking in a low discreet whisper that was unfortunately entirely audible to Silas’s sharp senses.

"My Lady..." Reginald murmured softly. "In your haste to intercept Lord Graves day before yesterday before the location ping... you departed the Bloom Manor without your primary ledger purse. You possess zero liquid capital on your person."

Seraphina froze.

A nuclear violently bright crimson blush instantly exploded across her entire face, rushing all the way down to her collarbones.

Her aristocratic composure completely disintegrated into ash as she stared at the marble floor in pure mortification.

Harper, who had caught every single word, let out a deafening, uproarious laugh that echoed through the grand lobby.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" Harper cackled, holding her stomach as she pointed an accusatory, triumphant finger at the blushing noble. "The great, untouchable Princess of House Bloom forgot her wallet! You came to a high-society shopping spree with empty pockets! That is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life!"

"Silence, you insufferable brute!" Seraphina shrieked, clutching her burning cheeks. "It was an administrative oversight! Reginald, summon the courier immediately—"

"Too late, broke-ass!" Harper grinned widely, slapping her sleek black corporate platinum card directly onto the cashier’s scanner pad.

BZZT-CHUNK!

[TRANSACTION APPROVED: 8,450,000 SPIRIT CREDITS DEDUCTED FROM Whitmore RESERVES.]

"Thank you tremendously, Lady Whitmore!" the cashier chimed, bowing so low her forehead nearly touched the counter. "We wish you all a magnificent, glorious afternoon!"

Seraphina clicked her tongue with immense venom, turning her back to the counter and storming toward the exit with her arms crossed as her heels practically gouging holes in the marble floor.

Out in the valet bay, the private staff carefully loaded all thirty-two luxury garment bags into the spacious, pressurized rear boot of Harper’s custom midnight-purple sports coupe.

CLUNK!

The hydraulic trunk sealed shut with a soft hiss.

Silas collapsed into the front passenger seat, letting out a massive, soul-draining sigh as he melted into the heated leather headrest.

He felt like he had just fought three consecutive Lord Wars without a mana potion.

Beside him, Harper slid behind the steering wheel, humming a cheerful victorious tune as she adjusted her rearview mirror.

Seraphina climbed into the back seat, sitting with rigid, icy silence as she stared out the tinted glass.

Harper pushed the ignition rune.

VROOOOOOOM!

The twin-turbo mana engine roared to life with a deep throaty rumble.

Harper shifted gears, smoothly navigating the sports coupe out of the garage and accelerating onto the sunlit avenues of the upper district.

Harper glanced sideways at Silas, her violet eyes glittering with high-energy excitement.

"Alright, handsome!" Harper announced cheerfully, tapping her manicured nails against the leather-wrapped steering wheel. "Phase One of the Ultimate LordTube Date Guide is officially complete! Now, we move on to the most important, critical phase of the entire afternoon!"

Silas turned his head slowly, raising a suspicious exhausted eyebrow. "Harper... what is Phase Two?"

Harper puffed out her chest with immense pride, taking a sharp turn onto the prestigious Skyline Promenade.

"Phase Two is fine dining!" Harper declared happily. "I pulled massive corporate favors and booked an exclusive, VIP reservation on the panoramic top floor of The Celestial Zenith!"

Silas’s face instantly paled.

The Celestial Zenith.

Even living in the deepest most isolated squalor of the Sector 4 slums, Silas had heard of that place.

It was the most ridiculously expensive, astronomically priced sky-restaurant in the entire metropolitan district.

Located at the pinnacle of the city’s tallest crystalline spire, it was a hyper-exclusive culinary temple where a single glass of vintage mana-wine cost more than an average commoner made in five years of manual labor.

’First eight million on shirts...’ Silas thought, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead as he stared blankly through the windshield. ’Now we are going to eat gold-plated lettuce... Someone please shoot me.’

Fifteen minutes later, the luxury sports coupe glided into the private, hovering landing pad attached to the seventy-fifth floor of the Celestial Zenith Spire.

The moment the scissor-doors swung open, a contingent of six impeccably dressed waitstaff in white silk tailcoats stepped forward, offering deep synchronized bows.

"Welcome to The Celestial Zenith, Lady Whitmore, Lady Bloom, Lord Graves," the head maître d’ beamed reverently, leading the way across a transparent bridge forged from enchanted floating glass.

They entered the restaurant’s top-floor sanctuary.

The atmosphere was breathtaking.

Floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass walls offered a dizzying, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the sprawling Valoria City skyline, bathed in the warm golden glow of the setting afternoon sun.

Suspended floating mana-orbs cast a soft, romantic golden ambiance across the spacious dining hall, while a live quartet of musicians in the corner played a smooth, relaxing, and soulful jazz melody on enchanted crystal instruments.

Reginald stopped precisely at the entrance of the private dining pavilion. The elderly butler bowed stiffly, placing his hands behind his back.

"I shall remain stationed at the threshold, Lady Seraphina," Reginald said with quiet dignity. "To ensure your dining experience remains entirely undisturbed."

"Thank you, Reginald," Seraphina muttered, still visibly sulking from her wallet humiliation at the mall.

Harper didn’t waste a single second.

She immediately grabbed Silas’s hand, pulling the dark-haired Lord toward the prime, private window booth overlooking the entire metropolis.

"Look at this view, Silas!" Harper gushed, sliding into the plush velvet curved booth and pulling him down right beside her. "I made sure they gave us the prime sunset table... You can see all the way to the outer barrier gates from here! And look... they have atmospheric filters so the air smells like fresh mountain blossoms!"

Seraphina gracefully slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table, her crimson eyes narrowing into slits of pure boiling jealousy as she watched Harper lean her shoulder against Silas’s arm.

’That purple-haired vulture is dominating every single interaction,’ Seraphina thought fiercely with her manicured nails digging into the white linen tablecloth. ’I need to turn the tide... I need to prove that I am the superior, attentive prospective wife.’

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