Supreme Bloodline Evolution System

Chapter 187: A King Who Builds Like a God

Black winds descended before the crowd of people gathered to welcome their king home.

Across the wide plains, tents had been set up in every direction, stretching so far that they almost looked like a temporary city of cloth, smoke, and restless bodies. People slept there, cooked there, waited there, and lived there with whatever little comfort they could find beneath the open sky. Fires burned between the tents, children clung to their parents, warriors sat with their weapons nearby, and tired families turned their heads the moment Max appeared.

At least half a million dragon citizens had gathered on those plains, waiting for their king’s orders.

Max swept his eyes over them all.

He saw exhaustion on their faces. He saw hope as well, but that hope only made the weight in his chest heavier. These were his people now. People who had left their old homes, followed his banner, and placed their future in his hands while sleeping under tents on an empty field because the capital he had promised them still did not exist.

For a moment, Max felt as if he had failed them.

He had won battles, conquered clans, killed emperors, and survived the Arbiter, yet his people still slept on the ground while he chased one war after another. He knew there had been no other choice. He knew that without suffering, there would be no bright future for them. But knowing that did not make the sight any easier to accept.

He handed Freya’s sleeping body to several women nearby and ordered them to take care of her, to let her rest, and to nurse her back to health without bothering her with questions. The women bowed quickly and carried Freya away with care, while Max turned back toward the crowd.

His black eyes grew steady.

"I shall build the capital city myself," Max called out loudly.

That single line spread across the plains like thunder.

The people closest to him froze first. Then the shock traveled farther, passing through the crowd in waves as countless eyes widened and voices began to whisper.

Max had said he would build it himself.

"Max," Rosalia said as she stepped forward.

Her voice was calm, but her eyes were not. She reached for his hands, her fingers closing around them as if she wanted to make sure he was truly standing there before her and not about to vanish again into another war, another disaster, another secret he refused to share.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

There was concern in her gaze, deep and difficult to hide. She had not had a proper chance to speak with him lately. He had returned wounded, changed, carrying a heaviness around him that she could feel but could not name. Something had happened to him. Something terrible. Agnia had told her pieces of it, but pieces were not enough for the woman who had once healed him, protected him, and watched him rise from nothing.

Rosalia’s heart felt uneasy.

He had been fighting battles she could not stand beside him in, carrying burdens he would not fully explain, and even now, when he stood before half a million people and spoke about building a capital with his own hands, she could not tell whether he was being confident or reckless.

Max looked down at her hands holding his.

For a moment, the coldness in his eyes softened.

"It means I am done making my people wait," he said, his voice low enough that only those close to him could hear the roughness beneath it. "They followed me here. They trusted me when I told them Voidstar would rise. Yet they are still sleeping in tents, still cooking on open fires, still waiting for the future I promised them while I keep running from one battlefield to another."

His gaze lifted toward the endless field of tents.

"I will not leave them like this anymore."

The ground and the sky itself began to shake.

Every single dragon gathered on the plains felt their hearts clench beneath the might of their king. It was not the pressure of ordinary magic. It was something deeper, heavier, and far more ancient, as if the land itself had been forced to acknowledge the will of the man standing before them.

Black light escaped from Max’s body.

At first, it flowed like mist, dark and silent, spreading around him in slow waves. Then that darkness began to harden, turning into countless tiny crystals that drifted through the air like black snow. Each one carried mana inside it, dense and pure, pulsing faintly with a power that made the people of Voidstar hold their breath.

Max ignored their shock.

His entire focus was placed on controlling his newly acquired magic. This was not a battlefield, and he could not simply let the crystals tear everything apart like they had done before. He had to shape them. Guide them. Give them purpose. In his mind, he imagined a small house first, something simple, something stable, something a family could live inside without fearing the wind, the rain, or the next enemy that came knocking on their door.

A place someone could call home. A place no enemy could break with brute force alone.

Every mouth in the crowd slowly opened, jaws dropping as the black crystals flew toward the ground and pierced deep into the earth. They did not scatter randomly. They moved with order, digging down and spreading beneath the surface, locking together to form a foundation stronger than stone and richer with mana than any ordinary building material could ever be.

Then the floor began to rise.

Smooth black crystal spread across the foundation, forming the first layer of the house. But Max quickly realized that pure black would be too heavy for ordinary people to live around every day. It was beautiful, but cold. Powerful, but oppressive. So he changed it.

He mixed in his dragon magic.

Agnia’s flames brought traces of gold into the crystal, warm and bright like fire captured beneath glass. Rosalia’s icy power added purple brilliance, soft and elegant, flowing through the walls like frozen starlight. Then came the multicolored radiance of the Spirit Sovereign magic, weaving through the structure in faint lines that made the entire house look alive.

The black did not disappear.

It remained as the base, strong and unshakable, but now it was no longer only darkness. It had warmth. It had color. It had life.

Walls rose from the ground, each piece fitting into the next without a single wasted motion. Windows opened along the sides, clear and smooth, framed by crystal that shimmered between black, gold, purple, and faint spiritual light. A door formed at the front, simple but firm, while the second floor took shape above it, rising steadily until a complete two-story house stood before the stunned crowd.

It was only a house.

But to the people of Voidstar, who had been sleeping in tents across the plains, who had followed Max with nothing but hope and exhaustion in their hearts, that small house felt greater than any palace they had ever seen.

And in that moment, as the first house of Voidstar stood tall beneath the sun, Max looked like a god to them.