Lysandrus, along with everyone else in the room, waited for his nephew’s excuse.

Zamel, bearing the weight of his uncle’s question, scrambled for an answer within his chaotic mind. Should he be foolish enough to attempt deception? Or just as foolish to tell the truth outright? Either way, both choices would only bury him deeper in the hole he had found himself in.

Seconds passed. His uncle’s gaze remained fixed on him, the smirk still present—but looking into those piercing eyes, Zamel knew he was running out of time.

Taking a deep breath—and clenching his butt cheeks—he finally spoke.

"Y-Yes, Lord Lysandrus. I-I… did speak those words," he stammered, yet answered truthfully.

"I-I tried ignoring her words… even when she told me to kill myself. I would have let that go. But when she mentioned my blood… I couldn't ignore it." he answered while looking down, his filled with shame.

"Hmmm... I see," Lysandrus replied. "I couldn’t care less if you insulted me, but mentioning my late wife… that, I did not expect from you."

This time, the smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, unreadable expression.

Zamel felt an icy chill creep up his spine at his uncle’s shift in demeanor. The weight of his voice alone made his heart hammer against his chest, his legs trembling involuntarily.

Just when he thought he was about to lose control of his nerves entirely, Lysandrus spoke again.

"I will forgive you for that—because my daughter also crossed the line. But I expect this never to happen again. Do the two of you understand?" His voice carried no room for argument, laced with fiery authority.

"Y-Yes, Milord."

"Y-Yes, Father."

The two answered in unison, their voices filled with relief.

"Due to your foolish actions, we’re already behind schedule. We can’t afford to waste another second," Lysandrus declared, his voice carrying across the room with unwavering authority. "Servants, clean this mess. We leave now. And I expect no one to utter a word about this incident. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Lord," the servants and guards responded in unison.

"Merina, follow me. Lissandra, take care of your children."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left the room. Merina, not daring to linger, hurried after her father in silence.

Instead of being saddened by her words, Zamel was stupefied.

Throughout his childhood, he had been fascinated by the awakening ceremony, studying every detail about the sacred ritual that everyone would undergo once in their lifetime. His excitement had driven him to learn everything he could—including the various "Paths of Power" discovered because of it.

From what he remembered, the awakening ceremony had to take place inside the main church or one of its acknowledged branches. It was believed that every individual must awaken under the watchful eyes of the gods within the pantheon, alongside Lumiel—the First True Angel, Matriarch of Holiness, and lastly the Primordial Light.

This was an unshakable truth, a tradition upheld for generations.

Which is why, instead of feeling downcast, he was utterly astonished.

Lissandra, however, mistook his silence for bitterness, believing he was hurt by her father’s decision to completely ostracize him. Wanting to soothe her nephew, she quickly spoke again.

"Hey, kid. Don't worry," Lissandra said, her voice softer this time. "I know you were excited about today. After all, this was supposed to be your first time leaving our estate—leaving this entire region—to finally see the world for yourself."

A beautiful smile spread across her lips as she reached out, ruffling Zamel’s hair with a playful yet gentle touch.

"But that old man completely shattered that dream of yours, huh?" she continued, her tone laced with both amusement and sympathy. "I apologize for his inconsiderate actions, but know this—despite how it looks, he’s not doing this because he despises you. That couldn’t be further from the truth."

She paused for a moment, giving him a knowing look.

"For all his harshness, this is just one of the many ways he cares about you—and all of his grandchildren. You might not believe it, but when we gave that bastard a whole bunch of brats like you and the others, he actually mellowed out a little." She let out a short chuckle. "And that includes you, despite your… circumstances."

Zamel stared at her, uncertain of what to say.

"If he decided this was for the best, then trust me—it is." Her voice was firm yet reassuring. "Even if it doesn’t make sense now, you’ll understand one day."

She finished her words with a smile so dazzling that Zamel found himself looking away—not sure if he was overwhelmed by her beauty... or the sheer force of her handsomeness.

"Anyways, look on the bright side, kid. Despite the disappointing situation you're in, you're still going to awaken your 'Path of Power'—or class, or whatever everyone refers to it as. Right now, don't think of anything else. Just focus on what you wish to be, and the 'Observer'—whoever that guy is—will give you what you truly desire." She chuckled, her faint laughter was soothing, like a melody—oddly unfitting for her usual crude way of speaking.

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"Look, I really want to take you with me. Hell, I could forcefully take you to the Capital with me but it’d be too much trouble for both of us—not to mention dangerous for you." She smirked. "Smile, kid. That face of yours doesn’t deserve to be smeared with sadness. You're handsome, after all—like me. HAHAHAHA."

This time, Zamel laughed as well, completely softened by his aunt’s words.

Ezekiel, witnessing his mother's actions, couldn't help but feel jealous. "Mother, come on! We must hurry up. I really want to awaken right now!" he shouted, doing his best to hide his envy.

"Alright, alright, don’t rush me, you brat. What? Are you jealous? Want me to give you kisses?" she shouted back, lovingly glancing at her children while not forgetting to tease her eldest son.

The twins, overhearing her words, burst into loud laughter, joining in the teasing.

"Awww, is the poor mama’s boy jealouuussssss?" Abigail teased in a playful manner.

"HAHAHA! Mama’s boy! Mama’s boy! Ezekiel's a mama’s boy!" Adriel sang in a rhythmic chant.

Ezekiel, now at the mercy of his family's razzing couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He quickly turned and walked away in hurried steps, attempting to hide the blush creeping onto his face.

"Well, looks like I can't stay any longer. Good luck, kid. I hope that whatever you awaken, you'll still stay the same. Alaric will accompany you. He might look weird, but he's very dependable," she said while reaching out her hand, this time to pat Zamel's shoulder.

She quickly turned to catch up with the departing backs of her three children. Even from here, he could still hear the twins teasing their older brother.

"Hey, wait up for me, you disrespectful brats! How dare you leave your poor mother alone?" she shouted at them with exaggerated sadness, but the three acted like they didn’t hear anything.

She caught up with them, quickly grabbing them all before proceeding to tickle them. Their laughter echoed for everyone to hear.

The onlookers couldn't help but smile at the love and solidarity shown by their family.

Zamel somberly watched the scene unfold, reminded of his relationship with his own mother.

As he was lost in thought, feeling the sadness weigh on his heart, he suddenly felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

He turned toward the owner of the hand and immediately recognized him.

With a peaceful smile and kind eyes, the man spoke. "Ignore what she said, young Zamel. Although it's true that I will be accompanying you, I do not think I look weird. In fact, I can confidently say that I look far more handsome than her. Isn't that the truth, child?"

Zamel, caught off guard by the sudden question, completely stuttered, his words tripping over his tongue. "Y-Yes... you are right, Uncle," he answered in a quiet voice.

Alaric, unbothered by his nephew's hesitation, continued speaking. "Well, now that you're stuck with me, we should go. We can't keep the Patriarch waiting any longer."

Zamel, shocked by his uncle's words, quickly replied, "The Patriarch will be at my ceremony? Why?" He asked, completely taken aback by the news.

"Yes, he will be the one overseeing your awakening. Come now, we must move with haste," Alaric answered with finality, making it clear that Zamel should ask no further questions.

Zamel got the message loud and clear and hurried his steps, but his curiosity still gnawed at him.

"Oversee my awakening? Does that mean he'll be taking on the duties of a priest? That shouldn't be possible... After all, it's a priest’s job to conduct the ceremony, as it is a sacred ritual only permitted for devout followers of the gods. Why would the Patriarch commit such blatant disrespect toward them? If people found out about this, he would be arrested under the crime of heresy."

His spine chilled once more at the conclusion he reached.

As he pondered more about the reason behind the Patriarch’s strange actions, his mind wandered, questioning why the Patriarch would do such a thing, searching for a reason behind it.

Perhaps he was simply interested in what he would awaken as—but that seemed unlikely. Maybe he didn’t trust the priests of the church to carry out their duties, believing them unfit for such an undertaking. If that were true, then why was he the only one the Patriarch would personally oversee? Shouldn’t he do the same for his cousins as well?

That seemed even more unlikely. After all, the ceremony wasn’t only held at the church because it was the priests' duty—it was also because they would document the results. The priests would question the awakened about their "Path of Power" or class, ensuring it was recorded by the scribes and securely stored in the inner archives of the church.

As his mind found different answers, each only led to more questions, stacking endlessly in his head. His thoughts spiraled faster than he could make sense of them, deepening the pain he felt.

Lost in thought, he finally noticed that he was walking through an unfamiliar part of the estate, snapping him out of his trance. For the first time, instead of pondering questions he couldn't answer, he now had a different concern—where was he?

The estate was vast, and despite living here his whole life, there were still places unfamiliar to him—either because some were restricted, off-limits to everyone in the household, or because the sheer size of the estate made it easy to get lost. He had been warned many times not to wander aimlessly, lest he find himself lost in one of its many corridors.

Piecing things together, he concluded that he must be heading toward the Patriarch’s office.

At that thought, he stopped in his tracks, hesitation creeping in. Uncertainty gripped his mind, followed by a growing fear.

This would be the third time he had seen his grandfather in person. As far as he could remember, the Patriarch had only appeared before him twice.

The first time was when his grandmother, accompanied by the Patriarch, went to calm his mother, who had become hysterical—overcome with terror—after he disobeyed his grandmother’s warnings. The second was during his grandmother’s funeral, when she was lowered into the ground. Even after all this time, he could still remember those days vividly—the unbearable pain, the grief that had left a deep scar on his heart.

And in both those memories, he saw his grandfather standing in silence, his presence alone heavy and overwhelming. Zamel had been struck by that weight before, and he wasn’t ready to experience it again.

Standing in the middle of the hallway, he felt the air grow heavier, making it harder to take another step. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him as he thought about the man he was about to meet.

His uncle, noticing that Zamel had stopped walking, simply smiled. He didn’t speak, looking unconcerned about why Zamel had halted in his steps. Instead, without wasting any time, he grabbed Zamel’s wrist and continued walking with his nephew in tow, seemingly unbothered by the forceful action.

Zamel had no choice but to unwillingly follow. The thought of resisting never crossed his mind—he knew it would be pointless.

After a short while, Zamel spotted a large double door in the distance. He knew that beyond those doors, his grandfather was waiting for them.

The terror within him intensified once more. He vividly remembered his aunt’s words and wished, more than anything, that they were true. With each step closer to the room, he braced himself for the inevitable.