Chapter 9 – The Awakening of Power
The atmosphere in the council hall was suffocating. Every Golden Asper bowed low as the old figure entered, their golden forms gleaming even in the dim light, their expressions a mixture of reverence and fear. Even Morvain, the usually nonchalant Asper, lowered his head, silent and still.
Solvane's heart pounded. He had never seen this man before—not in any history lessons, not in the public eye. But judging by the reaction of everyone around him, he realized instantly who it was: the last Golden Asper.
He counted six others seated or standing—Elder Vox made the seventh. The first Asper in history, the legendary figure behind the Yellow Aspers' liberation, a man of valor and royalty. Now, old and frail, barely able to stand, his back bent with age, hair almost entirely white, he moved with the cautious dignity of someone who had seen centuries pass. Solvane's father helped him to his seat, but every step Elder Vox took sent a tremor through the room.
If Solvane had been frightened before, now terror gripped him entirely. Why him? I was hoping he wouldn't come. This is… bad.
The old man's hoarse voice cut through the silence. "What is this I hear about my grandson having no unique aspects?" The words, weak but sharp, fell like stones into the room. The murmurs died instantly. The hall felt heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself feared him.
King Aubrean dropped to his knees immediately, the force of his kowtow echoing through the hall like thunder. "It's all my fault, Elder Vox! I failed in my teachings!"
"It is not your fault," Vox said, his voice frail but carrying undeniable weight. "And he is not a late bloomer. He simply needs a push… a spark."
"Solvane?"
"Yes… yes, Elder Vox," Solvane said, his voice trembling.
Elder Vox leaned forward, a faint, dry laugh escaping him. "Call me… Grandpa."
A chill ran down Solvane's spine. Even frail, the old man exuded power—ancient, untouchable, and terrifying. "Do not worry," he said. "Grandpa will awaken your power… and those who mocked you will taste shame."
Could he really handle what was coming? Could he survive being judged against the legacy of his bloodline? His thoughts swirled with unease, dread, and the faintest thread of curiosity, though he didn't care much for the powers themselves.
"Xander," Elder Vox continued, turning to a figure standing at the edge of the hall, "will you do me the honor?"
The figure stepped forward. A Golden Asper, tall and imposing, his face completely hidden by a hooded mask that left no openings for eyes, nose, or mouth. Even the air seemed to bend around him. His presence radiated danger.
Without a word, Xander leapt in front of Solvane, crouching in a ready stance, a weapon unseen but felt. "Don't die, kid," he said, his voice calm but deadly, resonating even beneath the mask.
Solvane's pulse raced. He could feel the weight of every gaze in the hall, the whispers of power brushing against him. His hands shook slightly, but deep inside, something stirred—a spark he had never felt before. The air seemed to thrum with potential, danger, and inevitability.
This was no ordinary training. This was the beginning of a reckoning.
And Solvane had only just begun.