Charles said nothing at first. He simply nodded once, then gestured toward the orchestra with his chin.
"Well then," he said, his voice once more edged with familiar confidence. "Shall we make the gods jealous?"
And with that,
The ensemble returned to position.
The scrolls fluttered open again.
Their hands, sore and trembling, found strings and bows. Their lungs, still heaving, sought breath anew. Their hearts? Still raw—yet more than ready.
Then they began from the top.
From Howl.
And something was different.
The sound this time wasn't merely played.
It commanded.
The resonance crystals above the dome pulsed to life with the rhythm. The studio groaned under pressure. Diana's reinforced protective arrays surged in harmony, adjusting to every crescendo. The rune-matrix floors shimmered, rippling like water in a storm.
A thousand mid-tier mana stones glowed steadily around the ensemble, feeding qi and mana into every cultivator with each passing phrase.
The rehearsal resumed not as mere practice, but as a ritual.
Charles stood at the center, shifting between conducting and playing piano, leading the ensemble with expert skill.
When he sang, his voice ranged from baritone to an otherworldly countertenor. It was not soft or fragile, but luminous and commanding. Every lyric seemed to pierce the boundary between mortal and metaphysical, as if even the Heavens paused to listen.
He sang in languages that no one speaks anymore, using harmonies no mortal voice should reach. His voice blended with the music like starlight merging with dawn.
Luther, always a perfectionist, now looked at him as if he were seeing a deity. He was half-reverent, half-offended by the effortless majesty before him.
"Is there anything he can't do?" muttered the trumpeter.
"Yes," the harpist whispered. "Stay ordinary."
Each new pass through the four pieces drew out more.
Power. Emotion. Potential.
The music swelled, again and again.
And something shifted.
Barely perceptible at first, a sharpened breath, eyes igniting with an inner glow.
Then, like a dam breaking, qi surged.
One by one, musicians trembled, gasped, moaned, not from pain, but from overwhelming internal expansion.
The air crackled as cultivation realms strained.
Six members broke through their bottlenecks mid-measure. One clarinetist reached the Core Foundation Rank 8, gasping with disbelief mid-phrase. Another violinist wept as her chaotic meridian flow stilled and harmonized.
Several others didn't yet ascend, but their foundations pulsed with stabilizing force, fortifying what had been crumbling from years of imbalance.
This was no longer a rehearsal.
This was a divine impartation of resonance.
It was a level of music rarely seen outside of legends. The sound bypassed technique and doctrine. It flowed straight into the soul, seeping into every part of their being—into meridians, the heart, the qi sea, the dantian. It lifted everything it touched.
Some closed their eyes, overwhelmed. Others played with tears pouring, their instruments soaked with their awakening.
None would ever forget or be the same.
None of them would ever be the same.
Because what they experienced wasn't just music.
It was transcendence.
They stood drenched in sweat. Tear-tracks lined faces that had forgotten what shame even they had endured sorrow, fury, triumph, and stillness, and emerged transformed—not just as musicians, but as followers of something transcending music.
They had tasted the divine.
And they would never again settle for less.
Charles exhaled and stepped forward.
His voice was soft, but every word struck with the weight of thunder.
"This… is not the end," he said. "This is only the overture."
And the studio hummed its agreement.
As if even the building itself believed him.
What no one knew, not even those closest to him, was that in his past life, Charles Alden Vale had been a prodigy of prodigies.
At five, he had stunned audiences across continents with his mastery of both piano and violin. By seven, he wasn't just performing others' works. He was composing his own. Full symphonies, operatic scores, haunting nocturnes that had brought concert halls to tears.
His voice, too, was considered angelic. Some claimed it carried a divine timbre that made even the faithless weep.
People had praised him, worshipped him, given him contracts, spotlights, and even movies.
And he left it all behind.
He hated the entertainment industry's machinery that didn't have souls. He saw through the velvet curtain and saw the greed, the lies, and the empty praise.
He left, then.
Instead, he dove into the world's chaos: military strategy, engineering, and economics. He made empires. Not with music, but with cold logic, strong will, and sharp charisma.
But music?
He never forgot it. It stayed in his bones, quiet, waiting, and aching.
And now, in this world, it had found its time again.
Dissonance & Dreams Over Dinner
The Hollow Cadenza was a bohemian tavern hidden behind Velmora's Artisan Quarter.
It used to be a run-down bar for wandering minstrels and rogue composers, but now it was sacred ground for Resonance cultivators-in-training. Most of these people couldn't afford conservatory school tuition.
There was always a faint smell of old string resin, sautéed herbs, and spilled ideas in the air.
The Phantom Concerto ensemble had gathered in full, crammed into the back room they normally rented for post-rehearsal misery and fried dumplings. This time, though, their chairs didn't creak with disappointment; they creaked with excitement.
And seated at the long, battered banquet table beside Luther Vahn was none other than the devil in noble silk himself: Lord Charlemagne Ziglar.… he didn't act like one.
He leaned back casually, sipping plum rice wine. He swirled it like he was judging a battlefield—not a beverage. His silver hair shimmered faintly under the enchanted lamps. But his sleeves were rolled up, his boots scuffed from rehearsal. His smirk?
He looked more like a war general pretending to be a university dropout.
"You lot really don't eat until someone gives you permission?" he teased, nudging a plate of spicy garlic shrimp toward the flautist.
"You look like malnourished sirens."
The group chuckled nervously. They weren't used to nobles being... human.
"Lord Charle—"
"Charles. Or Zig. Or your glorious maestro of pocket-burning extravagance. Whatever makes you less awkward." He raised a brow.
"Seriously, if one more of you bows again, I'm confiscating your oboe reeds."
That broke the tension. A round of genuine laughter echoed through the tavern.
Soraya, their lead soprano, arched a brow. "And what exactly is the budget for this chaos, oh Maestro of Fiscal Folly?"
Charles sipped his drink. Then turned to Luther. "Care to show them?"
Luther hesitated. Then stood and retrieved the storage ring Charles had handed to him hours earlier.
"I thought it was a trick," Luther muttered. "Maybe a prank. Or cursed."
He activated it.
The table rattled. A shimmering illusion projection bloomed midair, revealing its contents: five million gold coins and mana crystals. cultivation tomes, blueprints for enchanted instruments, tailor-measured uniform designs, and permits.
Someone audibly choked on a pork sandwich.
The illusion flickered again. A separate budget plan file scrolled by, almost like a divine decree: Project Grand Shadow Aria Hall Phase One. Estimated budget: 58 million gold coins.
Dead silence.
"Holy octave," whispered the drummer. The harpist fainted.
Charles chuckled in amusement, "What I propose is not just a theater. It is a legacy of sound and soul.
Grand Shadow Aria Hall will rise at the heart of Velmora. It will become a living symphony of stone, starlight, and mana. Its design fuses medieval elegance, modern precision, and futuristic enchantment—a masterpiece for tomorrow's arts.
The outer façade will be sculpted from obsidian steel and auric marble. Mana crystal inlays illuminate at dusk, forming a shifting mural of light and resonance.
Within the Grand Hall, a suspended mana-glass dome and a crescent stage of obsidian resonance stone will amplify sound and emotion. Resonance Arrays attuned to qi and musical frequency power the experience.
A lattice of Mana Gathering Arrays will draw power directly from the ley lines beneath Velmora. This sustains the hall's enchantments indefinitely. Illusion and Acoustic Arrays allow performances to paint the air with light and motion. Every concert becomes an immersive experience.
Security will be absolute. Shield and Protection Arrays are built into the foundation itself—capable of sealing the hall within a heartbeat.
Should calamity strike, the walls will harden, the air will sing with barrier sigils, and the hall will stand as both sanctuary and fortress.
Behind the main auditorium, a ten-story wing will rise—a structure of both elegance and utility.
It will serve as residential quarters and administrative offices for the Phantom Concerto, support staff, and visiting Virtuosos.
Each floor will integrate soundproof resonance barriers and mana-infused living walls, ensuring harmony between work, art, and rest.
The complex's rear terrace expands into a Herbal Mana Garden, cultivated with qi-rich flora used for performance elixirs, teas, and mana therapy.
A grand courtyard opens beside it for guest carriages and sky-mounts, with shielded parking bays powered by the hall's outer protection lattice.
Beneath the surface lies the project's hidden core:
A five-level subterranean complex carved directly into the ley bedrock.
Level One: Grand Rehearsal Hall and Instrument Chambers, acoustically tuned to replicate the resonance of the main stage.
Level Two: Private Cultivation Chambers, each equipped with personal resonance arrays for qi-channel enhancement and elemental synchronization.
Level Three: Archival Vaults for relics, manuscripts, and enchanted instruments under temperature-controlled runic stasis.
Level Four: The Strategic War Room, equipped with illusion projectors, data orbs, and scry-linked world maps, where logistics, events, and emergency operations can be managed under protective seals.
Level Five: The Subharmonic Reactor Core, a mana heart that sustains the entire complex, recycling ambient energy and harmonizing emotional resonance from performances.
Every stone, rune, and crystal will serve a singular purpose—to make the hall a living symphony. A place where music transcends art and becomes a force.
Grand Shadow Aria Hall will not merely host music. It will remember it.
Every note. Every triumph. Every sorrow.
It will be the beating heart of culture in the Ziglar Dominion, a monument not of vanity, but of eternal harmony."
Jaws dropped. Then loud cheers erupted. Still, they could not believe that the proposal would come to fruition. But all wanted to dream it into reality.
Wendy laughed, "This is normal for Lord Charlemagne. Don't even dare doubt it."
Diana chimed in, "We already acquired the land. It is near the planned Ziglar Commercial Hub. If we double the manpower, we can have this hall in three months."
"Good." Then Charles added, "Inform Anton's team to start scouting for properties in Parisia City near Embersteel Academy for the second Grand Shadow Aria Hall."
Luther choked on his beer upon hearing this. He is already having mental and gastric indigestion from all the plans.
Charles reached for another shrimp.
"Luther, focus on the four masterpieces first," he said casually.
"Recruit more talents to build the full-scale Grand Orchestra. You'll rehearse in the East Wing Manor's outer grounds, alongside my personal army. Our military formations will train in tempo with your arrangements."
Soraya blinked. "Wait—you mean…"
"Choreographed warfare," Charles confirmed.
"You'll conduct formations the way you conduct a symphony. Everything synchronized. Rhythm and steel. Sound and fury. I want the battlefield to sing."
"You're insane," the clarinetist whispered in awe.
Charles grinned. "Unapologetically."
He leaned in and dropped the next bomb.
"You have one week before the ceremony."
Luther nearly spat up his drink. "You expect perfection by then?!"
Charles shrugged. "Of course not."
A pause.
"I expect better than perfection."
Groans, gasps, and wild laughter erupted around the table.
Then came the contracts—thirty scrolls of soulbound silk, each gleaming with Charles's personal sigil, the Black Phoenix.
A five-year commitment. Non-disclosure. Exclusive service. Generous benefits. Room for a lifetime renewal for the willing.
Charles didn't pressure them. He didn't have to. Any musician would beg to sign up.
Each member signed, and the qi-bound ink flowed like blood from a vow onto the parchment.
They were no longer just musicians.
They had become tools for something bigger: a vision, a movement, a revolution in art, culture, and identity.
Charles finally leaned back and sighed when the last contract sealed itself with a bright hum. It was as if the symphony had just started.
"Right," he said, flicking a peanut across the table. "Now let's talk cultivation."
Luther cleared his throat. "We're all Resonant Virtuosos. Some are more advanced than others. I'm at Unity Realm Rank 4. Most are scattered between Tonal Awakening and Soundweaver's Veil, equivalent to Foundation Core Rank 7 to Unity Realm Rank 5. Some haven't had formal cultivation training, but the potential is there."
Charles scanned the room, his sapphire eyes sharp.
He could already see it and hear it. The future orchestra.
A cathedral of sound. A temple of resonance. A force that would move mountains, break tyrants, and make the stars weep.
"You'll all be progressing faster now," he said. "Under our roadmap."
He tapped the rim of his glass.
"Here's what most don't understand about your class. Resonant Virtuoso isn't just a support class."
His voice dropped an octave.
"It's a force of nature."
Class Name: Resonant Virtuoso.
Let your soul be the instrument, and the world shall dance to your song.
He explained everything in detail: the cultivation stages, techniques, and weapon specialties. He described the benefits of mastering Harmonic Qi Resonance Cultivation, and how their inner core became a tuning fork of fate, with their notes cutting through illusion and pride.
When he got to Aria of War and Woe, several faces turned pale.
By the time he mentioned The Silent Ode, the ultimate stage where even silence becomes a divine weapon at the Transcendent Core Realm, half the table had gone breathless.
"He said softly, "You're not just musicians anymore. You are cultivators with the power to change nations with a single verse."
Then came the last touch.
"Phantom Concerto should be more than just a name. You will be my musical elite. Our performances will be like battlefields, and our notes will be like declarations of war. And our voices..."
He stopped and looked around.
"...our voices will be heard all over the world."
The words were heavy.
And then,
"Okay, but," the oboist said, "are we getting dental?"
The room exploded.
Soraya rolled her eyes. "That's your question? We just signed our souls into a musical cult."
"I chew reeds. It's a real worry!"
Charles smiled. "Anton will provide you with the list of benefits. Including a retirement plan, magical dental and full health insurance, and more."
"Bless you."
Plates refilled. Drinks flowed. And laughter danced on the strings of dusk.
But the dream was still beating behind it all.
First, the Grand Shadow Aria Hall of Velmora. A stage that is as good as the sky. After that, we'll build more of this Shadow Theater structure in other kingdoms.
A new musical empire.
Charles leaned back and let it wash over him.
Then whispered, more to himself than anyone:
"We will rewrite the soundscape of the world. And when the curtain rises… even gods will stop to listen."