Chapter 19: [Duchy of inferna] [10] Dinner with a demigod
"My grandfather... He’s returned to the duchy," she said in a single breath. "He’ll be joining us for dinner tonight."
I furrowed my brow. Why was that such a huge problem? "I didn’t know you had a grandfather."
She offered a strained smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Hehe... Yes, I forgot to mention that, sorry. He’s... not here often. In fact, he’s... different." She took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage for the words she was about to say.
"Cass, my grandfather is no ordinary man. I need to warn you about a few things."
Her seriousness was contagious. I began to listen intently.
"You know how people grow stronger the more they integrate with mana, how they ’Ascend.’ Most powerful mages might see the fourth, maybe fifth stage in their lifetimes. An Arch-Mage like Evelyn is at an eight-star level. But ten... the Tenth Ascension, that’s... that’s something beyond this mortal realm. It’s like becoming a living cataclysm, a figure of myth."
She locked her eyes on mine, a mixture of pride and profound fear swirling within them.
"My grandfather is one of the handful of people in the world who has completed the Tenth Ascension. His name is Aron Infernia. Some call him... a Demigod."
The title hung in the air. Demigod. Even all of Evelyn’s power and wisdom seemed to pale in comparison to that word. Every muscle in my weary body tensed.
Iris continued, her voice trembling. "And my grandfather... he is extremely protective of me. I am the most precious thing in his life. He puts everyone around me... under a magnifying glass. He weighs their every intention, their every thought. And he... is severe in his judgments." She squeezed my hand tighter. "What I’m trying to say is, if he doesn’t like you... he won’t hesitate to show it. And with a single word from him, you could be exiled not just from this duchy, but from the entire kingdom."
"But don’t worry!" she added quickly, as if trying to reassure me, though her own anxiety bled into her voice. "I’ll talk to him! I’ll tell him you’re a good person. Just... please, be careful at dinner. Don’t challenge him directly. And whatever you do... don’t show him any weakness."
Listening to Iris’s words, I understood that Evelyn’s ruthless training would feel like child’s play next to tonight’s dinner. I had walked out of a storm, only to find myself heading straight into the heart of a tsunami. And this time, the force I faced wasn’t a simple spell or physical attack; it was the overwhelming presence of a living legend, a Demigod.
We had arrived at the palace. Iris paused before the massive, carved wooden doors of the dining hall and whispered one last time, "Stay calm, Cass. No matter what happens, stay calm." I took a deep breath, and we entered together.
At first glance, the room was warm and inviting, bathed in the golden light of the fireplace. Duke Veynar was conversing in low tones with his father at the head of the table. But the moment we stepped through the doorway, an invisible wave of frost seemed to spread through the room. The warmth instantly evaporated. Duke Veynar’s words froze in his throat, hanging in the air. Even the flames in the hearth seemed to lose their courage, flickering and shrinking. The oxygen had been sucked from the air, replaced by a suffocating weight, and the source of all this crushing pressure was the singular being at the head of the table, who had not yet even turned to look at us.
The moment his name echoed in my mind, his gaze found me. The word "gaze" was too simple to describe the experience. This wasn’t eye contact; it was an invasion of my very soul. His eyes were like two burning embers set in an ageless face. He was neither young nor old. The lines on his face seemed etched not by time, but by the weight of decisions made and burdens carried.
And when those eyes saw me, they didn’t just see my physical form; they pierced through the deepest layers of my being, my fears, my hopes, the secret I carried. It was as if a surgeon’s scalpel was peeling back the layers of my spirit. The breath caught in my throat.
My lungs refused air, and my heart hammered against my ribs as if it would break free. The strength in my knees vanished, and I felt myself about to crumple to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. A cold sweat trickled from my temples down my neck.
"Cass, are you okay?" Iris’s whisper was a distant echo. She tried to support me with a hand on my shoulder.
I couldn’t answer. My mind had become a fortress at war, struggling to maintain consciousness under this unimaginable pressure. Every fiber of my being screamed to kneel, to submit before this power. Surrender, a primal part of my mind whispered. This is not a force to be resisted. This is the weight of a mountain, the might of a tsunami. Bow, and live.
But then, deep in my chest, behind my ribs, there was a stirring in that foreign organ that was now a part of me.
The dragon heart... The ancient power, which had seemed to be in a cold slumber, was awakening in the face of this external threat. Slowly, but with determination, it pumped a fiery will into my veins. This wasn’t simple courage. This was the absolute sovereignty of the world’s most supreme creatures, a will that refused to bow.
The pressure didn’t lessen, but I changed. The will emanating from the dragon heart wove an invisible shield around my soul.
When Aron’s aura crashed against this shield, it no longer tore my spirit apart; it became a storm merely beating against its surface. The trembling in my knees stopped. I managed to draw a ragged breath. I did not fall. I stood tall.
For a millisecond, an expression of surprise flickered across Aron Infernia’s face, like a crack appearing in a marble statue. It wasn’t the shock of a plan gone awry; it was the curiosity of a god witnessing an ant bite his finger. How could this boy, this nameless orphan, remain standing in the shadow of his presence? He increased the pressure for a moment more. The shield in my mind cracked, my vision darkened, but the dragon heart responded with a stronger beat, and the balance was restored.
It was Duke Veynar who, realizing the gravity of the situation, was the first to break the silence. His voice was taut, caught between the deep respect he held for his father and the responsibility he felt for his guest.
"Father," he said in a soft but firm tone. "Would you please stop bullying our guest?"
Aron’s gaze shifted from me to his son for a moment. Though the pressure of his stare lessened, the chill in the room remained.
"Bullying, Veynar?" he said, his voice smooth as velvet but just as deadly. "I am merely sampling the air around my little canary. And in this air... there is a foreign scent." His eyes found me again. "Don’t you see how close that boy stands to our Iris? You told me he was merely a new guest of the Duchy."
The word "guest," in his tone, was an insult.
"For a stranger," he continued, dripping venom into every word, "to approach my one and only, my most precious Iris, so carelessly... This is unacceptable to me."
Seeing that even her father’s intervention was failing, Iris stepped forward. Her voice trembled, but there was a steely resolve within it. "Grandfather! He’s my friend! Please stop being rude!"
Aron’s face hardened for an instant at his granddaughter’s defiance. "Friend?" He repeated the word as if hearing it for the first time. "No. No one in this world deserves to be my granddaughter’s friend. They are either servants, allies, or stepping stones. The word ’friend’ is used between equals. And my little sun... has no equal."
Those words shattered the last of Iris’s defenses. Her eyes welled up. It was a bitter manifestation of how suffocating and twisted her grandfather’s love for her was.
A single tear traced a path down her porcelain-smooth cheek. It wasn’t a simple tear; it was a secret weapon, perfectly timed and honed by years of experience.
As if struck by an invisible arrow, Aron Infernia’s entire divine bearing crumbled. The marble mask on his face melted away, replaced by deep panic and regret. He shot up from his seat and was by Iris’s side in an instant. His speed was inhuman. One moment he was at the head of the table, the next he was kneeling before her.
"No, no, no... Don’t cry, my little sun," he whispered, his voice bearing no trace of its earlier lethal tone, now filled with the pleading anguish of a doting grandfather. "Grandfather only wants you to be happy, to be safe. I just don’t want the mud of this filthy world to touch you, that’s all."
He shot me a glacial, murderous glare, as if I were the sole cause of Iris’s tears. Then he turned back to his granddaughter, reaching out to gently wipe the tear away. "If... if you insist that this boy is your friend... then so be it. For your happiness, I will tolerate this situation."
Iris, while wiping her tears, winked at me with the air of a victorious general. I understood in that moment. This girl... she wasn’t just sweet and kind-hearted. She knew her Demigod grandfather’s greatest weakness and was not afraid to use it as a weapon to impose her own will. She could be truly cunning at times.
Finally, the crushing pressure on me lifted completely. The air that filled my lungs felt as fresh and precious as the first breath I’d ever taken. But the unease within me had given way to a deeper, more permanent anxiety. My battle with this man was only just beginning.
As Iris had asked of me, I composed myself and took a step toward Aron. I bowed slightly, with the respect due to the noblest person in the kingdom. "It is an honor to meet you, Lord Infernia. My name is Cassian."