Chapter 77: The Night Came To An End
Amon remained seated at the central table, his posture relaxed yet commanding, like a king observing a court of fools.
The glowing crystal orb on the dais pulsed with soft, expectant light as Elias Miraclad gestured graciously toward their table.
"Kayla, if you would be so kind," the family head said, his voice warm and resonant, carrying across the hall. "Please bring little Ciara forward for the awakening assessment. We must honor tradition."
Kayla hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Her eyes met Amon’s, seeking reassurance.
He gave her the faintest nod, his expression unreadable.
With Ciara cradled carefully in her arms, Kayla rose and walked toward the stage with steady grace.
Amon stayed exactly where he was, fingers loosely interlaced on the table, watching everything with cold, predatory eyes.
Marcus slid into the seat beside him, a smug grin plastered across his face. "Look at that, brother. Your mortal wife marching up there like she belongs. Bold of her. Or foolish. Its hard to tell the difference sometimes."
Amon didn’t respond to his brother’s probings. Instead, his Soul Sense swept over the entire hall, noting every shift in aura, every hidden glance exchanged between elders and high-ranking hunters.
"You know," Marcus leaned in closer, voice low but dripping with mockery, "Father always said you were the weakest link. Unawakened trash. Yet here you are, parading a child we might actually salvage. Tell me, do you really think she’ll awaken? Or are you just hoping for a miracle that lets you crawl back into the family’s good graces?"
The words washed over Amon like insignificant rain. His Mystical Divine Physique thrummed with restrained power. He could crush Marcus’s skull with two fingers, and no one in this hall could stop him. But not yet.
On the dais, Kayla handed Ciara to one of the appraisers, a stern woman in flowing robes embroidered with ancient Miraclad crests.
The crystal orb was activated, bathing the baby in a column of pure white light.
Soft gasps rippled through the crowd as runes began to manifest in the air, scanning the child’s bloodline and latent potential.
Amon’s gaze never left the stage. He noted the subtle mana fluctuations, the way the elders leaned forward with calculated interest.
Other prominent hunter families were in attendance, representatives from the Silverthorn Clan, the Voidwalkers, and several lesser houses.
Their presence forced the Miraclads to maintain the facade of hospitality.
Marcus chuckled again, elbowing Amon lightly. "Still silent, huh? I remember when you used to tremble just hearing Father’s name. Look at you now, sitting here like you own the place. Pathetic. Even if the girl awakens, you’ll always be the failure who needed his daughter to earn his seat back."
Amon ignored his words once more as the assessment continued smoothly.
The orb spun slowly, projecting holographic runes that detailed Ciara’s compatibility with the family’s ancient bloodline techniques.
Minutes stretched and the tension thickened in the air. Kayla stood rigidly beside the appraiser, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Meanwhile, in Ciara’s mind, the system echoed with a soft chime:
[Master, do you wish to display your rank, bloodline and abilities to the world?]
Ciara, taken aback by the news immediately disagreed. She couldnt allow anyone to know of her hidden strength!
With a shake of her head, she quickly ordered the system.
’Don’t display anything.’
The moment her words left her mind and into the system, the orb dimmed.
Instantly, a collective murmur swept the hall.
The runes flickered once, twice, and faded entirely. No awakening signature. No surge of mana. No latent talent flare.
Ciara remained an ordinary infant in the eyes of the artifact, untouched by the Miraclad bloodline’s famed potential.
Shock registered on many faces, though it was tempered. The mext moment, whispers erupted.
"Not even a spark..."
"Expected, really. The father was a complete failure."
"Still, a waste of the family’s time."
Elias Miraclad stepped forward, his expression shifting into a warm, grandfatherly smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Hidden within that smile were cold calculations and ruthless intentions.
Amon read them perfectly through his God-rank Soul Sense: disappointment mixed with opportunistic malice.
The child was useless. In that case, the entire family unit was expendable.
"Regrettable," Elias announced smoothly, voice carrying across the hall with practiced sorrow. "It seems the bloodline did not manifest strongly in this generation. Nevertheless, we thank you for attending this sacred celebration. The Miraclad family values all its branches."
The other families nodded politely, maintaining the illusion of normalcy.
No one voiced the obvious. The failed assessment meant death for the outcasts.
Politics demanded decorum. Murders would happen quietly after the guests departed.
Kayla’s face paled as she received Ciara back into her arms. She walked down from the dais with measured steps, her heart heavy with dread.
Every instinct screamed that danger now clung to them like a shroud.
Yet when she returned to the table and met Amon’s calm, almost serene gaze, a sliver of reassurance pierced her anxiety.
He looked utterly unconcerned, as if the failure had changed nothing. His quiet confidence steadied her breathing.
"Amon..." she whispered, sitting beside him once more. Her voice trembled slightly. "She... she didn’t awaken."
He placed a hand over hers beneath the table, squeezing gently. "It doesn’t matter," he said softly, only for her ears. "Nothing here changes who we are."
Mira, who was still with them, stood frozen beside the table. Her small body trembled.
Shock coursed through her as the implications of what had just happened sank in.
She knew Amon, the Butcher.
She had witnessed fragments of his power, his ruthlessness when protecting what was his.
Horror filled her heart at the thought of what he was about to unleash upon the Miraclad family.
Blood would flow tonight. Mountains of corpses would follow.
She wanted to plead with him, to beg the family elders to retract their hidden killing intent, to warn them that provoking the monster beside her would end in annihilation.
But the words stuck in her throat like thorns.
Her mouth opened and closed silently.
Fear for the family, for the innocent staff, perhaps even for Ciara’s future, warred with terror of what Amon would become if they touched his wife or daughter.
She could only stare at him with wide, pleading eyes, hoping he might sense her silent desperation.
Marcus, oblivious to the undercurrents, continued his teasing as the banquet gradually wound down.
Servants cleared plates while musicians played softer melodies. "Tough luck, brother. No awakening means no redemption arc for you. Father will be disappointed. Again. Maybe we’ll give you a nice quiet room to reflect on your failures before sending you back to your pathetic mortal life."
Amon offered no reply.
His mind was elsewhere, mapping escape routes, identifying kill orders, and confirming the presence of hidden formations around the estate through his enhanced senses.
The Winter Frost Blade rested peacefully in his spatial storage, itching to taste blood.
As the final toasts concluded and Elias dismissed the gathering with warm farewells to the visiting families, the hall began to empty.
Representatives from other clans exchanged pleasantries and departed via prepared portals or carriages, none the wiser to the execution planned for the night.
The Miraclads maintained perfect smiles until the last outsider vanished.
Marcus rose, clapping Amon on the shoulder, the same condescending gesture from their first meeting. "Come, brother. I’ll escort you and your lovely family to your quarters for the night. Father insists you stay. We can’t have you traveling so late with a child, after all."
The words were laced with false courtesy. Amon detected the lie instantly. They wanted them isolated, trapped within the estate’s defensive barriers where no witnesses would see the slaughter.
Kayla clutched Ciara closer, her face composed but eyes wary. Mira followed silently, her small frame tense with unspoken dread.
Amon stood slowly, towering over Marcus despite his brother’s attempts at dominance.
"Lead the way," Amon said calmly.
They traversed long, ornate corridors lit by floating mana lanterns.
Ancient portraits of Miraclad ancestors stared down at them, their painted eyes seeming to judge the failure in their midst. Marcus kept up a steady stream of taunts as they walked.
"Remember the old training grounds? You never could complete a single circuit without collapsing. Pathetic. And now you’ve dragged this poor woman and child into our world. If only you had stayed hidden. We might have forgotten you existed."
They soon arrived at a secluded wing of the estate.
The "guest quarters" were luxurious: a spacious suite with silk drapes, enchanted beds that adjusted to perfect comfort, and windows overlooking the moonlit valleys.
Yet Amon sensed the sealing formations woven into the walls and floor, barriers designed to trap and suppress them.
Marcus pushed the door open with a flourish. "Here we are. Rest well, brother. Someone will come for you in the morning. Or perhaps... not." His grin turned sharp, eyes gleaming with anticipation of the kill order soon to be given.
Kayla stepped inside first, setting Ciara down gently on the bed. Mira hovered near the entrance, her face pale, lips moving soundlessly as if still trying to force out her plea.
Amon paused at the threshold, turning to face Marcus directly. For the first time that night, a faint, chilling smile touched his lips.
"Thank you for the escort, brother," he said, voice low and calm. "You’ve been most... accommodating."
Marcus laughed, misreading the smile as defeat. "Always a pleasure. Sleep tight."
The door clicked shut behind him. Locks engaged with a soft magical hum. Amon stood motionless for a moment, listening to Marcus’s retreating footsteps. Then he turned to his family.
Kayla looked at him, worry etched across her beautiful features. "Amon... they’re going to..."
"I know," he interrupted gently, pulling her into his arms. "And it changes nothing."
Outside, in the depths of the estate, elders gathered in a hidden chamber. Elias Miraclad sat at the head, his warm public smile replaced by icy calculation.
"The outsiders have left," one elder reported. "The barriers are sealed. The failure and his mortal spawn will not leave this mountain alive."
Elias nodded. "Good. Dispose of them quietly after midnight. Extract whatever blood samples we can from the child first. Based on the prophecy she is the key to surviving this calamity, and we can’t miss an opportunity such as that."
Unbeknownst to them, Amon’s Soul Sense had already pierced their chamber. Every word, every plan, echoed clearly in his mind.
Everywhere remained silent. Under Amon’s tender care, kayla had drifted off to sleep.
Ciara remained wide awake, but pretended to be sleeping, her heart racing wildly, meanwhile, Mira stared at Amon with a pleading expression on her face, finally mustering the strength to say something.
"Big brother... the Butcher... please... they’re your family... don’t..."
Amon glanced at the little girl, his expression softening fractionally. "They stopped being my family the moment they targeted Ciara. Stay close to Kayla and the baby, Mira. Close your eyes if it becomes too much."
As soon as Amon finished speaking, he stood up, a mask appeared in his hand.
The banquet had ended.
Yet the true night was only beginning.
