A flicker of regret appeared in the Golden Dragon Mother's eyes. She hadn't thought of using martial arts as a means of influence. While it was too late to implement such an approach herself, there was little point in dwelling on it.
Thanks to Muria's position, he could utilize his martial law avatar to control the Federation's elite families. However, if she tried the same strategy, it wouldn't yield the same results.
Beep beep!
At that moment, the urgent sound of an incoming message interrupted her thoughts. The Golden Dragon Mother paused, instinctively glancing around before realizing it wasn't her message.
"Muria, you've got a message."
"Yeah, I heard it." Muria tapped the notification on his communicator and scanned the contents. A subtle smile crept across his lips.
"Who's messaging you? A girl? If it is, I might just have to let Mikaela know," the Golden Dragon Mother teased, raising an eyebrow as Muria's smile brightened.
"Stop imagining things. It's an elder from the Douglas family inviting me for dinner."
Muria rolled his eyes at her playful accusations and clarified.
"Oh, don't think I don't know how meals work in this world. You'd better behave and stick to eating!"
"Don't you think you're overthinking things a little?"
"If you think I'm meddling too much, fine, give me some hush money, and I'll mind my own business. Do whatever you want in this world, and I won't breathe a word to Mikaela. Deal?"
"Get lost. I've done nothing wrong, so why would I pay you anything?" Muria scowled at the Golden Dragon Mother, who always seemed ready to exploit him.
"Well, if you wait until you've actually done something, the price will go up. Think about it!"
"I'm broke. Go ask my dad instead." Muria stood, grabbed his communicator, and waved. "I'm off to eat. Catch you later."
"Don't overstep. I've got my eye on you," the Golden Dragon Mother warned softly.
Muria responded with a dismissive snort before closing the call.
---
"Nice to meet you, Geros. I'm Abios, the current executive elder of the family."
When Muria followed the invitation to a luxurious hotel suite, a brown-haired middle-aged man with a friendly demeanor stepped forward and extended his hand.
"Elder Abios, pleasure to meet you." Muria returned the handshake, maintaining a calm and polite expression.
"Although I knew you were incredibly young, seeing you in person still feels surreal. A Martial Lord at seventeen—it's unbelievable."
As the elder clasped Muria's hand, he examined the young man's face and couldn't help but praise him.
"My son is about your age, but he's accomplished nothing. If he could be even half—no, a tenth—as outstanding as you, I'd be content."
"You flatter me, Elder. I simply train a little harder than most," Muria replied humbly.
"Geros, I didn't expect you to be so approachable and modest. Truly unexpected. I thought I'd meet a brash, sharp-edged youth today."
"There's no reason for arrogance over a few achievements." Muria shook his head.
"You really are humble. Please, have a seat."
---
The conversation that followed was casual and meandering. Muria and the elder exchanged pleasantries for over an hour before Abios finally got to the point.
"Geros, I've heard your martial law avatar can grant power to someone who's never trained before. Is that true?"
"Of course." Muria smiled as he answered, delighted that the elder was finally revealing his intentions. Another fish had taken the bait.
"I also heard that granting this power doesn't cost you much. Is that true?" Abios asked, feigning curiosity with practiced subtlety.
"It's true." Muria's smile began to fade. "Not."
"Ah!" Abios's face stiffened. "It seems the rumors I've heard were inaccurate. My apologies. I was hoping you might demonstrate for me."
"Why would granting power to someone who neither trains nor works hard be an easy thing to do?" Muria asked pointedly.
"Indeed. Turning someone without innate star aptitude into a Star Armor user has never been accomplished."
"Precisely. I won't casually share my power." Muria understood the simple truth: things gained without effort are seldom cherished.
"In that case, what price would I need to pay for you to grant this power to one of my blood relatives?"
"Elder Abios, do you know what my current goal is?" Muria deflected the question with one of his own.
"I'm not sure," Abios admitted, forcing a smile. How would I know your goals? This is the first time we've met.
"My goal is to become the family head." Muria stated it plainly, without hesitation.
"..." Abios maintained his polite expression, but his face froze as the words sank in. "Wait… What did you just say? I think I misheard you."
"I said, I want to be the family head." Muria repeated himself, his gaze steady. "Did you hear it clearly this time?"
"..." The elder fell silent. If anyone else in the family, especially a seventeen-year-old, had made such a declaration, he would have slapped them on the spot.
Who do you think you are? Do you think becoming the family head is something anyone can do?
But the person sitting before him was no ordinary youth. Muria was the most talented martial artist the family had seen in three centuries, a Martial Lord on par with Star Armor users.
Given his identity and standing, Muria's words carried weight, delivering a shocking impact to the elder, who had hoped to seek his help.
"You're not joking?"
"Not at all. Given my current status, is it so outrageous for me to aspire to the position of family head?"
"Not at all." After confirming Muria's intentions, Abios exhaled slowly. He began calculating the likelihood of Muria succeeding.
The more he considered it, the clearer it became. Muria's chances were exceptionally high. The Douglas family operated on a merit-based system: the most capable and powerful individual would ascend to leadership.
Among both the family's younger generation and the Federation's as a whole, no one could rival Muria. With time and determination, his path to leadership seemed inevitable.
"I would like your support in my bid for leadership. In return, I will grant power to the relative you choose."
"No problem." After evaluating Muria's chances, Abios quickly agreed.
"In that case, bring out your blood relative. I assume you invited me here because they're nearby."
"Eren, get in here!" Abios immediately switched to a stern tone, shouting toward a nearby partition.
"I heard you, no need to yell." A young man with colorful, messy hair pushed open the door and strolled in.
"You…" Abios's face darkened. "Didn't I tell you to dye your hair back and clean yourself up?!"
"Tch. What does it matter? I'm meeting someone my age, not some old relic like you. Why so serious?" The young man, dressed in ragged clothes that might pass as fashion or art, smirked and glanced at Muria. "Right, bro?"
"This is your son?" Muria ignored the youth entirely and turned to the elder.
"Yes. My apologies for his behavior."
"You seem healthy. Why not have another child? Throw this trash into the garbage or an orphanage. Why bring him here to embarrass yourself?"
"..." Abios's face turned black.
"Do you have other children?" Muria asked. "Choose someone else. Granting power to this one would insult me."
"He's my only son." The elder's hands trembled, not with anger at Muria, but with frustration at his useless offspring.
"I see." Muria nodded. "Then I'll grant the power to you. Or, I can give you time to have another child. How about that?"
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