The Imperial Palace of Valestria pierced the heavens, its spires humming with ancient mana. Enchanted crystals lined the walls, their light pulsing in rhythm with the kingdom's magical barriers. As servants rushed to prepare rooms, Jin turned to the group with a polite bow.

"I'll return to Seyoung," he said softly.

"Please," Eren responded, "you are in Valestria now. You deserve all the rights and honors of an imperial guest."

Jin’s eyes flickered with understanding. “No, the Seyoung must know of Valestria's honors and traditions. It would only be right for our clans to meet formally. After all, there's much we owe you.”

As Jin departed with Valeria as his escort, Eren caught Azar's knowing smile.

"That kid's clever," Azar remarked once they were out of earshot. "Not only did he kindly decline the offer, but he also set up a formal meeting between Seyoung and Valestria. He knows Valestria's looking for more power in the region, especially Murim allies. By doing this, he increases Seyoung's standing while giving us what we want. Political games start young these days."

After escorting Jin back to the Seyoung Estate, they returned to find the palace abuzz with preparation. As night fell, word spread through the halls – Emperor Soren had returned from Astaria. The great dining hall filled with members of the imperial family: four wives of varying rank and status, and their children. Being the youngest at sixteen, Eren's entry drew sharp glances from his older siblings, many already deep into their Tower attempts or training.

He took his seat, acutely aware of the overwhelming auras surrounding him. Since the trial, he could sense people's power in ways he never could before, but some were simply beyond his comprehension. His father, Soren, his assistant Arkhos, even Azar – they existed in a realm he couldn't fathom. More surprisingly, he realized he couldn't even detect the true extent of the four wives' power. They sat there, each radiating an aura that seemed to bend reality itself.

Third Wife Liu's fingers tightened around her fork as Eren entered, her magic rippling with suppressed emotion, yet even that slight display made the air grow heavy. Second Wife Marina managed a more convincing show of composure, though her eyes betrayed calculation as she reassessed her children's positions in the heir rankings, her mere presence making the crystals in the room pulse brighter.

First Wife Helena remained genuinely calm, and why shouldn't she? Her children were among Valestria's finest – Alexandra, already a legend in the Tower's upper levels, and Marcus, whose combat prowess drew comparisons to Arkhos himself. The air around her seemed to shimmer with barely contained power.

Fourth Wife Jun ignored everyone, as usual, more interested in her spellbook than family drama, though her occasional glances at Eren carried their own weight of consideration. The space around her seemed to twist slightly, as if reality itself gave her a wide berth.

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But it was Iris who caught Eren's attention most strongly. His sister sat quietly between Alexandra and Marcus, but now that he could sense power levels, he was shocked by what he felt – or rather, couldn't feel. Her aura was so vast he couldn't even begin to gauge its limits. He had never realized just how powerful she truly was.

"That's not really surprising," Eren thought to himself. "I couldn't sense any of the wives' power either. They're all in a completely different league."

"My son," Emperor Soren's voice filled the hall as he entered. "Six stars at sixteen. You do our bloodline proud."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees – literally, as several of the older siblings lost control of their ambient temperature spells. Eren could practically hear them recalculating their positions in the heir competition. The youngest son achieving six stars had just upended years of careful political maneuvering.

The whispers had been following Eren all day: "—six stars at sixteen—" "—the heir rankings will—" "—Father's attention—" "—even Alexandra took longer—"

The cryptic fragments hung in the air like mist, just out of clear understanding. But tonight, something more pressing demanded attention. Tomorrow's visit to the Seyoung Estate was more than a mere social call—it was a calculated diplomatic maneuver that would position Valestria more firmly in the intricate political landscape of the Murim world.

Jin had orchestrated the invitation with typical political precision. The Seyoung clan, a powerful Murim house, would gain prestige by hosting the Valestrian imperial family, while Valestria would secure a critical diplomatic foothold. It was a delicate dance of power and perception, where every gesture would be scrutinized.

After dinner, servants began bringing out an array of formal attire that seemed to capture the very essence of Valestrian power. Rich fabrics in midnight blue and silver shimmered with subtle magical enhancements, each piece a statement of their lineage and strength.

Arkhos approached Eren, noting his son's discomfort with the elaborate clothing. "I know that look," he said, his voice a mixture of stern instruction and paternal understanding. "But remember – how we present ourselves shapes how the realms view Valestria. Our power is known through whispers and rumors, but tomorrow, they need to see it with their own eyes."

Helena, First Wife and Eren's stepmother, examined the formal wear with a critical eye. Her own robes were a masterpiece of magical tailoring, every fold placed with deliberate precision. "The Seyoung clan has honored us with an invitation," she added. "We must show them the full dignity of Valestria."

More outfits emerged: ceremonial armor for Valeria, formal Royal Guard attire for Azar, and a set of robes for Iris that caught the light like captured moonlight. Each piece was a carefully crafted weapon of diplomatic warfare.

"Think of it as another form of training," Arkhos continued, his expression softening. "Every gesture, every fold of fabric – they're all watching, measuring, judging. Show them why Valestria stands at the peak."

Emperor Soren nodded, his approval radiating through the room. "Tomorrow, we demonstrate why our name carries weight throughout the realms. Not just through power, but through presence."

As the preparations continued, Eren found himself contemplating the vast world of power that stretched before him. The six stars he had achieved at sixteen were not an endpoint, but a beginning. His family—the wives, Iris, his father—were living proof of how much further one could go.

The crystals pulsed steadily in the walls, their rhythm matching the heartbeat of the empire. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new alliances, and perhaps a deeper understanding of the intricate dance of power that defined their world.