Chapter 659 - Emberheart Mansion
As the initial rush of excitement settled, Irina felt herself slowly return to her usual, more composed self. The fluttering in her chest faded, leaving behind a calm awareness. Her gaze shifted, and for the first time in a long while, she looked at Astron from a different perspective—not as the person she felt a growing attachment to, but as an Awakened, someone whose power had evolved in ways she hadn't expected.
'This… he really has grown…'
Her eyes traced over him with a calculating intensity, and she felt a pang of realization. Before, she could always sense the limits of his strength, and could somewhat grasp where he stood, even if his presence was a mystery.
Astron had always been someone who could cloak himself in silence, his aura faint yet steady, a shadow at times—someone who could slip away unnoticed. Yet, when he wanted to, he could be solid, an unyielding force even if his power hadn't matched his resolve.
But now… it was different.
Irina's mind raced as she studied him in silence, sensing a depth of strength she hadn't expected. She could no longer measure him as she once did; his presence had become layered, like the quiet hum of Etheria Haven itself—a power hidden beneath the surface, waiting. There was an undeniable aura around him now, an energy that felt impenetrable, almost unsettling in its calm.
'What did he go through?' she wondered, a faint chill creeping down her spine. The Astron she remembered was strong, yes, but this…
This was someone who felt like he could bend reality if he so chose, someone whose quiet demeanor belied an overwhelming strength lying dormant beneath.
Irina's gaze lingered on him, her mind swirling with thoughts she hadn't expected. She'd always known Astron was dedicated—someone who trained relentlessly, who honed his skills with a sharp mind and a tenacity that set him apart. She had respected that about him, admired it, even. But there had always been a quiet, unspoken understanding in the back of her mind: if it came down to a fight, she was stronger. She could defeat him.
Now… she wasn't so sure.
A part of her instincts whispered that if they faced off at this moment, the outcome would be uncertain. And that thought, strange as it was, stirred something deep within her—a mixture of intrigue, caution, and a new sense of respect. The idea that he could transform so drastically in just a month was both unsettling and exhilarating.
'What kind of training did he go through?' she wondered, still searching his face for clues he wouldn't reveal. Whatever he had faced, it had hardened him and brought something out of him that hadn't been there before. The calm, faint aura that used to surround him had grown into something impenetrable, a quiet strength layered with a sense of boundless potential.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she looked away, her thoughts spiraling in a direction she hadn't anticipated. 'The academy… maybe it was holding him back.'
It was an insolent thought.
The best academy in the world. How could it hold someone back?
But what if?
The thought was both a realization and a revelation. The controlled, limited environment of Arcadia Hunter Academy could only push someone so far. But out there, beyond its boundaries, Astron had encountered something that had reshaped him entirely.
Or maybe, she was just wrong…..
Whatever, it was, it didn't matter.
Astron's voice broke through her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. "Looked enough?" he asked, his tone as calm as ever, though she detected the slightest hint of amusement.
Realizing she'd been staring at him without realizing it, Irina quickly composed herself, crossing her arms and giving a small, defiant huff. "Humph! And what if it wasn't enough?" she shot back, masking her momentary fluster with her usual confidence.
He raised an eyebrow, a faint raise at his lips. "Then I'd say that's your problem," he replied smoothly. "It's hardly my fault if I've become this… charming."
She blinked, momentarily speechless. This narcissistic bastard.
Of course,
he'd turn it around, just like that. Her face flushed slightly as she glared at him, her earlier admiration quickly tempered by irritation.
"Charming?" she muttered under her breath, barely able to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "If you're any more charming, you'll be insufferable."
Astron's amusement didn't fade, and he settled back in his seat, clearly pleased with her reaction. He'd seen through her flustered moment entirely, and she could practically see him storing it away for later teasing.
"But you…" Irina's voice softened, genuine admiration slipping through her usual teasing tone. "You have become really strong…"
Astron glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're not so different," he replied. "I can tell you've gotten stronger too."
She raised an eyebrow, a small, pleased smile forming on her lips. "You can tell?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Your body's more toned, and you've become more resistant to mana effects. Your willpower feels sharper—like you've tempered it somehow."
Irina gave a satisfied nod. "The Chamber of Emberheart. I had to… burn myself, and push past my limits. That's why." She glanced down at her hands, almost as if she could still feel the echoes of the intense flames she'd endured. It had been grueling, but she could feel the difference, even if her mother had barely acknowledged it.
As the memory faded, her curiosity took over, and her eyes drifted back to him, studying his features once more.
What happened to this bastard's face?
The transformation was undeniable, and she couldn't help but wonder about it.
She'd heard of certain elixirs, ancient techniques, or even rare artifacts rumored to enhance beauty or alter one's appearance, but she'd always brushed them off as exaggerated tales. Not that she'd ever needed them herself; she'd been naturally blessed with her own beauty.
But now…
She frowned, tilting her head slightly as she considered him. "Did you… do something specific to get this look?" Her tone was half-serious, half-teasing, but her curiosity was genuine. "You look… almost too perfect, even for you."
Astron raised an eyebrow, a faint glint of humor in his eyes. "Are you saying you find me perfect?" he replied, his voice smooth as silk, clearly enjoying her reaction.
Irina scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't get too full of yourself, Astron. I'm just curious. If you're going to walk around with a face that looks like it belongs in an ancient hero's portrait, the least you can do is share the secret."
"Nothing so dramatic, I assure you," he said, though he didn't offer more than that, leaving her curiosity unsatisfied. "I just absorbed a flower."
"A flower? What flower?"
What kind of flower was that to have an effect like this? There was just no way, it was a normal flower.
If that was a normal flower, then what is the point of having an aesthetical surgery? Everyone would be the most beautiful then?
Astron shook his head lightly, an amused expression on his face. "It was just a flower I encountered in a forest," he replied, his tone casual, almost dismissive. "Didn't expect it to have this… side effect. Pure luck, really."
Irina narrowed her eyes, skepticism creeping in.
A flower? In a forest?
That simple explanation did little to satisfy her curiosity. What kind of forest would hold a flower with effects this powerful? And why did it feel like he was conveniently glossing over some key details?
'This bastard is hiding something,' she thought, her instincts kicking in. There was more to this story than he was letting on, and every fiber of her intuition told her that. She was just about to press him further, to peel back the layers of this mystery and get to the truth, when—
"Miss," Esme's voice came from the driver's seat, calm and efficient. "We have arrived."
Irina blinked, her train of thought momentarily interrupted as she looked outside the window. They had pulled into the familiar drive of her family's mansion, the grand structure looming ahead, framed by the towering iron gates and lush greenery that marked the Emberheart estate. For a moment, the mystery of the flower slipped from her mind, replaced by the awareness of where they were.
With a slight sigh, she gave Astron a final, lingering glance, her curiosity far from satisfied. "This isn't over," she murmured, barely loud enough for him to hear as she gathered herself.
"….."
Astron did not reply, simply looking at the estate and the mansion itself.
As the car came to a smooth stop, Irina straightened, the faint anticipation for what lay ahead mingling with her lingering curiosity about Astron's story. She would get her answers eventually—one way or another.
But for now, she had the entire Emberheart estate to navigate with him by her side, and that, she realized, was bound to hold its own challenges.
Especially her mother.
She needed to pass this ordeal.
******
The Matriarch sat in her office, her hands folded elegantly on the desk, the golden rays of the late afternoon sun filtering through the tall windows behind her. The time was already nearing 2:15 PM, and her eyes flicked briefly to the clock.
"She is late," she murmured, the faintest hint of annoyance threading her words. Irina was rarely late, especially when it concerned matters she held close to her heart.
But annoyance alone was not enough. With a wave of her hand, the Matriarch activated her magic computer. In an instant, a dozen holographic screens materialized before her, each displaying various streams of news and surveillance feeds. Her gaze shifted between them until one headline caught her attention—a name that appeared all too frequently in recent times.
The screen displayed images of her daughter, Irina, alongside a young man.
Her mother's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharpening as she took in the details. In the photograph, Irina was seen embracing him—a warm, unrestrained gesture that contrasted with the stoic composure she typically displayed in public.
The Matriarch's lips curved into a faint smile, though the glint in her eyes was anything but warm. She studied the image, her expression unreadable as her fingers tapped slowly against the edge of her desk.
"So," she murmured to herself, her tone laced with a mixture of intrigue and challenge, "this is truly the path you want to take."
For a long moment, she sat in silence, her eyes lingering on the image of Irina and Astron.
'He indeed looks good enough.'
The photograph revealed more than just a bond; it exposed Irina's willingness to defy expectations, to stand openly beside him. It was a declaration, one that would not go unnoticed by their family's allies and rivals alike.
The Matriarch leaned back in her chair, her smile fading as she considered the implications. Her daughter's choices were becoming bolder, more visible—and with that visibility came risk. But there was also potential if Astron proved himself worthy.
Her gaze flickered to another screen, displaying information about Astron, his origins, his recent actions, and any scraps of data her intelligence network had managed to collect. She would study him, assess every detail, every action. Irina's loyalty to him had piqued her curiosity, but loyalty alone was not enough. If Astron could withstand the scrutiny and prove himself valuable, he might yet hold a place within her carefully guarded plans.
With a final, thoughtful look at the images on the screen, she closed the holograms, her resolve set. "Very well, Irina. If this is your choice, then let us see where it leads. I will give you enough time, for now."
Chapter 660 - Emberheart Mansion (2)
As they stepped out of the car and approached the mansion, Irina felt a small knot of tension settle in her stomach. She had never brought anyone here like this before, much less someone like Astron, whose calm indifference masked a world of complexities. She stole a quick glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was as composed as ever—completely unaffected by the grandeur of the Emberheart estate or the formality of the situation. His calm demeanor seemed almost absurd in contrast to the sheer weight of the occasion.
A faint laugh escaped her, the sound almost bitter.
Why was I even worried?
she thought, shaking her head at herself.
This guy… he's always been like this, hasn't he?
Astron had a way of facing situations, even the most intense ones, with that quiet, unshakeable calm that made him so different from everyone else she knew.
As if sensing her inner turmoil, he turned to her, his gaze steady. "You should calm down," he said in that soft, level voice of his. "It's fine."
His words were simple, but they carried a surprising reassurance that eased the tension in her chest. Irina met his gaze, taking a slow breath and nodding, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"Easy for you to say," she murmured, her tone half-teasing, half-grateful. "You're not the one who has to introduce someone to… her."
Astron only shrugged, his calm expression unwavering. "Your mother's just another person."
Irina's eyes widened slightly, an incredulous laugh bubbling up. "Another person?" She shook her head, both amused and a little stunned. "I don't think anyone's ever called the Matriarch of the Emberheart family 'just another person.'"
He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Titles don't change what people are," he replied quietly. "She'll either approve, or she won't. Worrying about it won't change anything."
Irina took a breath, letting his words sink in. Somehow, his logic made the impending confrontation seem… manageable, or at least less daunting. She straightened her shoulders, feeling the weight of her usual confidence return.
"Fine," she said, giving him a sidelong glance.
But then, just as they were about to walk towards where her mother was, a maid who was waiting for them in the entrance hall came forward. She inclined her head respectfully, her gaze flickering briefly to Astron before settling on Irina with a reserved but attentive expression.
"Lady Irina," the maid began, her tone calm and formal, "the Matriarch has instructed me to inform you that she wishes to meet you both at dinner this evening, at 6 P.M."
With that, the maid offered a respectful bow before retreating, leaving the two of them in the entrance hall once more.
Irina sighed softly, the hint of tension creeping back into her posture. A dinner meeting.
Of course,
she thought, an uneasy understanding settling in her mind. Her mother, ever strategic, was giving them time—a seemingly generous gesture. But the implication was clear: dinner was a test.
In a noble society, meeting someone over a prolonged meal meant evaluating their manners, their poise, and their command of etiquette. It would be a chance for her mother to watch Astron closely, to observe his every reaction.
"Seems she's not planning to make this easy," Irina murmured, glancing sideways at Astron, who looked unperturbed, his expression as calm as ever.
He noticed her slight frown and raised an eyebrow. "A dinner test?"
"Something like that," she replied, folding her arms. "It's not just a casual meal. In noble society, a dinner invitation like this is a way to measure someone—whether they're aware of the subtle rules, whether they know how to handle themselves for an extended period under scrutiny."
Astron gave a small nod, as if digesting the information, his gaze thoughtful. "So, it's not just a meeting with your mother. It's a prolonged evaluation."
"Exactly," she said, a wry smile crossing her lips. "She wants to see if you can keep up. If you make even one mistake, she'll see it."
"Then I suppose I'll have to be on my best behavior."
"You need to," Irina insisted, her gaze sharp and serious. She didn't want him taking any of this lightly, especially not with her mother. She knew the Matriarch's methods better than anyone; her mother was not someone to underestimate. Every glance, every gesture—nothing would go unnoticed.
Astron's expression narrowed a little, though he remained focused. "I'm not underestimating her," he replied calmly, meeting her eyes. "She's an Archmage, after all." His voice was steady, unwavering. "Just trust me."
Irina's gaze lingered on him, her usual worries easing slightly. His confidence, as always, felt solid, and reassuring. She let out a small sigh, nodding in reluctant acceptance. "Fine," she said, finally relenting. "Now that it's come to this, let's take a look around the mansion. Might as well get you familiar with the place."
Astron nodded, following as she led him down the grand corridors, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors.
She glanced around as they moved, memories flickering in her mind—of the times she'd shown visitors around when she was younger, or how she'd given Julia and Lilia tours of her home whenever they'd visited.
While it was indeed true that she herself never brought outside people here, that did not mean, nobody came to her home after all.
Being an heir to the Emberheart family, she naturally needed to keep some connections.
It felt almost strange to be doing this now, with him of all people. But there was a certain pride in it, too, a subtle sense of belonging she hadn't expected.
Irina guided Astron through the main halls, her steps steady as they moved past the storied portraits of Emberheart family heads. Each one was captured in a way that seemed almost alive, their eyes intense, their postures exuding an unmistakable aura of power and control. She gestured toward them with a slight nod, feeling a strange sense of pride mixed with the weight of her family's legacy.
"These are the previous heads of the Emberheart family," she explained, her voice calm but carrying a note of reverence. "Each of them commanded fire in their own way. The flames you see here… they're not just decorations. They're part of the family's legacy."
As they moved, Astron's gaze lingered on the walls, taking in the intricate engravings that framed each portrait. Flames danced around the edges, but not with the usual chaotic energy of fire. Instead, the blaze was restrained, almost graceful, forming arcs and patterns that seemed to tell a story. The flames shifted in color—deep red, golden orange, and soft amber—casting a warm glow that felt both ancient and eternal.
Irina noticed his interest and couldn't help but feel a quiet satisfaction. "The fire here is different from what we use in combat," she continued, glancing at the engravings as if seeing them anew. "It's… tamed, controlled. Artistic. Our family has always believed that true mastery over fire isn't just about its power, but about its beauty and elegance as well."
Astron's gaze shifted to Irina, an amused glint in his eyes even as his expression remained perfectly neutral. "Heh… For some reason, I'm not so sure," he remarked, his tone casual yet pointed.
Irina instantly caught the underlying jab. She knew exactly what he was implying.
Fiery Demoness
—that nickname had followed her through countless battles and duels, a title she'd earned for her fierce and unrestrained combat style.
She crossed her arms, tilting her chin up in defiance. "Whatever you think, you're wrong," she shot back, her tone firm. "I have one of the most controlled fires in the entire world."
Astron looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Really?" he replied, deadpan. But the faint spark in his eyes told her he was holding back a laugh.
Irina narrowed her eyes, her lips curving into a challenging smile. "If you doubt it, you're welcome to test it for yourself."
He inclined his head, considering her for a moment. "That might be… for another time, don't you think? If we started, I doubt it would end quickly."
Irina's smirk grew, an unspoken challenge flashing in her gaze. "Indeed. Because I wouldn't stop until I beat you up."
For a moment, they stood in the grand, flame-lit hall, their gazes locked in mutual challenge. The playful banter held an edge of real anticipation, a hint of the rivalry that simmered beneath their relationship. She knew that if it ever came down to a real test, neither of them would back down easily.
"Well," Astron murmured, breaking the silence, "something to look forward to, I suppose."
Irina scoffed, her amusement barely concealed. "Only if you think you can handle it," she replied, a spark of competitive fire lighting her eyes.
"We will see when that time comes."
Irina shook her head, amused by their exchange, before continuing to lead Astron through the Emberheart mansion. The next few places she showed him weren't so much historical as they were powerful displays of her family's influence, subtle reminders of the Emberheart legacy that was woven through every corner of the estate.
They walked through a grand indoor garden, a place entirely dedicated to rare, magical plants that thrived only under carefully controlled flames. Brightly colored flowers with fiery petals bloomed in the enchanted warmth, each one radiating a gentle glow. "These plants are only possible to grow here," Irina explained, her tone casual but with a touch of pride. "The Emberheart flames sustain them—any other heat, and they'd just wither."
Astron observed the garden with interest, his eyes flicking over each bloom. "A reminder of your family's unique mana, then?"
"Exactly," she replied with a smirk. "It's a place only someone from the Emberheart lineage could maintain." The idea clearly pleased her, adding an edge of confidence to her posture as she moved on. Though she had no idea how this guy came from a place filled with special plants like this.
They continued to a long, polished hall lined with glass cases, each one holding a weapon from past Emberheart warriors. "These are all enchanted weapons forged with Emberheart flames," she said, gesturing toward the array of weapons, from slender daggers to massive swords. "The flames strengthen them, binding them to their wielders in a way that's hard to replicate."
Astron's eyes lingered on one particularly grand sword, its blade seeming to pulse with an internal, ember-like glow. "Interesting," he murmured, inspecting it closely. "This one….."
Irina noticed Astron's gaze fixed on the grand sword, its ember-like glow pulsing as if with a life of its own. A faint smile played on her lips. "Your eyes really are something. That one… belonged to my great-grandfather," she said, her voice carrying a note of reverence. "They called him the Dragon Slayer."
"The Dragon Slayer? Senior Sigurd?"
Chapter 661 - Amberheart Mansion (3)
"The Dragon Slayer? Senior Sigurd?"
Irina nodded. "Indeed. His full name–Sigurd Eldric Faelan Emberheart. He wasn't originally from the Emberheart family," she explained, crossing her arms as she glanced at the sword. "He was a warrior—a rare type even among Awakened—known for his skill with the blade and his unyielding spirit. He came from outside, but his achievements brought him into the family through marriage to my great-grandmother, who was the Matriarch at the time."
She gestured to the intricate hilt of the sword, its guard shaped like dragon wings, the blade gleaming with an internal fire. "They were the first humans to slay a dragon," she continued, her pride evident. "It was thought impossible back then—dragons were beyond the reach of any Awakened. But he and my great-grandmother combined their strengths: his skill with weapons, her Emberheart flames."
Astron's gaze never wavered from the sword, his expression contemplative. "And that's what forged this weapon?"
"Yes," Irina replied. "It's said that the final breath of the dragon was sealed into the blade, binding it to his will. That's why it glows like that—it's not just enchanted. It's alive with the essence of his battle, his victory." She glanced at Astron, her eyes glinting with pride. "It's one of the greatest artifacts in our family, a reminder that we can achieve the impossible."
Astron studied Irina as she spoke, noting the subtle glint of pride in her eyes, the reverence in her tone as she recounted her great-grandfather's story. Despite her frequent complaints about the pressures and expectations of her family, it was clear to him that she valued the Emberheart legacy deeply. That was Irina, after all—complex and contradictory, finding both pride and frustration in her heritage. He chose to keep his observations to himself, simply listening as she continued.
"This weapon," she went on, her gaze drifting back to the sword with a mixture of respect and curiosity, "it's been sitting here for years, untouched, because it has a consciousness of its own. Ever since my great-grandfather, no one has been able to wield it. The sword hasn't accepted anyone else."
Astron raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.
'There was no mention of this in the game?'
"A conscious weapon?"
Irina nodded. "Yes. We believe it was because of the dragon's essence bound within it. Over time, it developed a will, a… personality of sorts." She smirked faintly, as though recalling some stories. "There were a few attempts to claim it, of course. But the sword rejects any who don't meet its standards, even going as far as repelling them with bursts of flame."
"So it's here as a guardian of sorts," Astron observed, his voice thoughtful.
"Exactly," Irina replied, glancing at the sword with a flicker of admiration. "It's a testament to the Emberheart legacy, reminding us that some things can't be inherited or claimed by force. They have to be earned. And even if we're its descendants, the sword holds us to that same standard."
"Your family has quite the legacy," he said quietly.
"You learned it just now?"
"….."
Seeing Astron staying silent, Irina also did not pressure him any further, and she continued to enjoy the scene.
Leaving the hall of ancestral relics, Irina continued guiding Astron through the vast expanse of the Emberheart estate. She pointed out the various facilities with an air of practiced familiarity, explaining each one briefly. The sheer scale of it all was impressive—even by noble standards. As the main branch of the Emberheart family, this place was fortified with countless formations, built to support and train the family's forces.
"This whole area here—" she gestured to a sprawling landscape stretching far into the distance "—is dedicated to training. Around 50 hectares in total, equipped with everything our Awakened need to develop their skills." She spoke with a mix of pride and practicality.
Astron nodded thoughtfully, recognizing the importance of such facilities. Families like the Emberhearts weren't just high-ranking mages; they commanded significant power, both magical and political, and they needed their own private forces to maintain that authority. It wasn't unusual, but the scale and specialization here were impressive even by elite standards.
Irina opted not to take him through the training grounds, knowing it would take far too long. Instead, she led him through a winding path toward a more secluded part of the estate.
"Come on," she said, her tone shifting to something lighter. "I'll show you my own quarters."
Astron raised an eyebrow but followed her without question. As they walked, the noise and energy of the estate's main facilities faded, replaced by a quieter, more personal atmosphere. Finally, they arrived at a separate building nestled within the estate's land, a place that felt both part of and apart from the mansion. It was unmistakably hers—bearing a certain Emberheart elegance, yet with personal touches that softened the grandeur.
Being the family heir, Irina had an entire building to herself, an oasis away from the demands of her role yet equipped with everything she needed. She pushed open the door and led Astron inside, the halls echoing with the soft warmth of controlled flames illuminating the walls.
"This is my training space," she explained, gesturing to a few doors as they walked. "I have rooms built specifically to withstand fire at full force, simulation rooms to help me refine my control, and, well… this," she said with a smirk, pointing toward a room labeled "Close Combat."
Astron raised a curious eyebrow. "You? Close combat?"
Irina shrugged. "It's mostly unused. I'm a mage, after all. But," she added with a smirk, "it's there if I ever feel like switching things up."
'A whole room if you feel like you want to switch up…..Really, something else.'
He thought that he wouldn't get any more surprised after seeing Maya's mansion, but indeed. Irina was not lacking when it came to the money part.
They paused by the library, lined with bookshelves filled with tomes on everything from mana control to historical lore. Next to it was her computer room, equipped with advanced technology for research and planning.
"Do you even use all these things?"
"Not really."
"….."
Irina shrugged at Astron's unspoken question, reading his silent curiosity as they moved through her quarters. "Honestly, most of the time I'm training under my mother or another family instructor," she admitted. "I don't get to use all of this as often as you'd think. It's only when I have time alone that I come here to work on my own training."
She glanced around, noting how untouched everything looked since the academy term had begun. The quiet rooms were almost like a snapshot of the past—a time when she'd spent countless hours honing her skills alone, away from prying eyes.
She gestured toward the computer and artificial intelligence console in the corner, a faint smile crossing her lips as she remembered. "Though I have to admit, this setup was helpful when I was younger. I used it a lot for developing theories, working on mana control calculations… anything that needed a bit of precision."
Astron raised an eyebrow, seeming a bit surprised. "So you actually have an AI service here?"
Irina nodded, feeling a quiet pride at her younger self's determination. "Yes. It was a bit overkill," she admitted, "but the calculations it provided made a difference. There were times when even my tutors didn't have the answers I needed, so I'd come here and work things out for myself."
She turned to him, her expression a mix of nostalgia and satisfaction. "I spent a lot of time in this room—maybe more than in any of the others. It's where I first started to understand my abilities beyond what I was taught."
"Interesting….."
"Well, I no longer need it, since I am already doing the calculations instinctively now. But at that time, it really helped."
"I see."
Astron glanced around the room, taking in the various setups and equipment scattered about before his gaze shifted toward a staircase that led to the upper floor. "So… upstairs is your bedroom then?" he asked, a casual curiosity in his tone.
The moment he mentioned her bedroom, Irina felt a jolt of alarm shot through her.
T-that…
Her heart skipped a beat, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral. The last thing she needed was him wandering upstairs—there were things there that were, well, entirely personal.
Astron raised an eyebrow at her reaction, an amused glint in his eyes. "Should I check it out, then?"
"No!" she blurted out, stepping slightly in front of the stairs as if to block his path. "Let's stop here," she said, her tone firm, trying to sound casual but likely failing.
Astron tilted his head, clearly amused. "Why?"
Irina folded her arms, leveling him with a glare. "It's… my personal space," she replied, her voice cool and resolute. "Not something for anyone else to see."
He held her gaze for a moment, his usual calm demeanor unruffled, but he didn't push further. Instead, he gave a small nod, respecting her unspoken boundary. "Fair enough."
Though she did now know, he had gotten a slight glimpse of her room thanks to his eyes.
'Well, as expected from the Emberheart family….Even the walls don't let out any mana.'
Though, since there were no mana psions leaked, he could not see anything with his eyes. And he was not unhappy with that, since that also ensured that someone was not to be seen by others.
Irina led Astron back down the stairs, a faint sense of relief mingling with her usual composure. With her private quarters off-limits, she could finally show him the last place she'd wanted him to see—a place she'd once mentioned in passing during a late-night phone conversation, one of the few moments she'd opened up to him about her home.
"This isn't quite the same as the other places," she said as they exited her quarters, "but I think you'll appreciate it. It's… a bit more peaceful."
They walked through a winding path that led to a secluded part of the estate grounds, shielded by tall hedges and walls covered in ivy. As they rounded the corner, a sprawling garden came into view, dotted with rare and vibrant flowers that seemed to glow in the evening light. The air was thick with the scent of blooming petals, and small, controlled flames danced in lanterns scattered around, giving the garden a quiet, ethereal beauty.
"This is the Emberheart Garden," she said, gesturing to the elegant landscape around them. "It's a place I go to think, or when I need a break from training."
Astron nodded, taking in the serene beauty of the garden, his expression thoughtful. "Is this place where were when you called me?"
"Yes…..How did you know?"
"Just guessed. But it is really serene."
"That's why I come here," she replied, smiling slightly. "Here, everything feels calm, quiet. Even the fire here is tame, soft."
They walked in silence for a while, the peacefulness of the garden setting a comfortable atmosphere between them. It felt strange, yet natural, to share this place with him—a contrast to the usual intensity of their interactions.
Chapter 662 - Amberheart Mansion (4)
They strolled quietly for a bit, the garden's calm vibes making things feel easy between them. It was kind of weird but also natural to hang out here with him, especially compared to their usual intense chats.
But as much as she enjoyed the moment, Irina knew it wouldn't last long. Turning to Astron, she crossed her arms, her tone shifting to something more serious. "Alright," she said, her gaze direct. "Now that you've seen my world, it's time to get you prepared."
Astron raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Prepared for…?"
"For meeting my mother," she replied firmly. "A dinner like this isn't just about etiquette. There are unspoken expectations. Subtle cues. I want you to be ready for what she'll expect and how she'll judge."
Irina watched him carefully, noting the thoughtful expression that crossed his face. Astron was quick to learn, especially when it came to dexterity and precision. His focus had always been more on agility and control rather than sheer strength, a trait that would work in his favor tonight. Dexterity was, after all, just as essential for mastering etiquette as it was for combat, and if anyone could handle the subtle intricacies of noble manners, it would be him.
"Hmm…" he murmured, considering her words.
She allowed herself a small smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction. He'd pick this up quickly; she was sure of it. And, if she was honest, the prospect of guiding him through these traditions and being closer to him—even if only under the excuse of teaching him—wasn't entirely unwelcome.
Cough…..it was rather something that she was looking forward to.
After all, it wasn't every day she had him here, in her world, and if it meant a few extra moments, well… that wasn't too much to ask, right?
"Don't worry," she said, a hint of playfulness in her tone as she took a step closer, reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt as though fine-tuning his appearance for the occasion. "With a bit of guidance, you'll be more than capable of handling my mother's scrutiny."
"I am not worrying about anything." He said. But, he still raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her hand, though he didn't move away. "You're that confident?"
"Of course," she replied smoothly, her fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. "Just follow my lead."
"Is that so?" Astron replied. "Then…..go ahead."
Irina smiled, pleased by his response, and gestured for him to follow her back toward her quarters. "Alright then," she said, her voice carrying a note of confidence. "Let's make sure you're more than prepared."
They walked through the garden, returning to the quiet seclusion of her building. While Astron was observant and picked up quickly, she knew that giving him a proper demonstration would be far more effective than simply explaining the rules. And to her, there was no better way to show him than setting up a real practice table and utilizing the hologram simulation available in her quarters.
After all, if her mother's plan was to evaluate him over dinner, then dinner etiquette was just as important as his responses.
As they entered her building, Irina led him towards her computer room. She tapped a panel on the wall, activating the room's hologram simulation system, and in an instant, a modest dining area, complete with a long table and elegant chairs appeared as a hologram.
In the hologram, a scene of a formal dinner unfolded, with elegantly dressed figures seated around a long table, each movement calculated and refined.
The guests dined with precision, every gesture smooth and restrained, from the delicate handling of silverware to the graceful sipping of wine. It was an ideal, educational setup for a beginner, the perfect way for Astron to observe the nuances of noble etiquette in action.
Irina crossed her arms, watching him as he took in the scene. "Watch their movements carefully," she instructed, her voice steady but encouraging. "Each gesture has a purpose, and timing is everything."
Astron's gaze remained focused, absorbing the movements of the holographic diners with that same calm attentiveness he applied to everything he learned. His eyes tracked the positioning of the cutlery, the way each guest delicately dabbed their mouths with napkins, even the subtle nods and glances exchanged among them. It was clear he was studying each detail, committing it to memory.
Once the demonstration ended, Irina led him toward her kitchen area, where a small dining table stood waiting. Unlike the hologram's grandeur, it was a simpler setup, yet it would be effective for practice. She laid out the silverware, glassware, and plates, mimicking the arrangement they would see later at dinner.
"Alright," she said, gesturing to the table. "Go ahead."
Astron took a seat, his calm demeanor unwavering as she began explaining each element. She went through the placement of utensils, the delicate folding of the napkin, and the precise way to hold the glasses.
And though she expected him to need a few adjustments, he surprised her by mastering each step with ease, mimicking the grace of the holographic diners as if it were second nature.
'Why am I even surprised.....'
She asked herself. For this guy, something like that must have been as easy as breathing, though she wasn't without a hint of frustration. She'd hoped he'd make a few mistakes—just enough for her to swoop in with guidance and gain a bit of an upper hand.
But she wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away completely.
Clearing her throat, she leaned closer, her gaze critical as she inspected his hand positioning. "Your grip on the glass," she said, reaching forward to adjust his fingers. "It's close, but not quite perfect. The angle matters."
Astron raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement flashing in his eyes, but he allowed her to reposition his hand without comment. Satisfied, she moved to his silverware, her fingers lightly touching his wrist as she angled it slightly. "Here, too. The way you hold the knife," she murmured, leaning in closer than necessary. "It has to be precise."
She felt his gaze on her, and for a moment, her composure nearly faltered under his silent scrutiny. He hadn't made a single error—she knew it, and so did he. But he allowed her to make her adjustments, following each minor correction with an expression that was calm, yet held a faint trace of amusement.
Finally, she stepped back, folding her arms with a satisfied air, though his mouth was curled up a little. "So," he said, his voice soft but edged with humor, "is there anything else I'm 'getting wrong'?"
She huffed, feeling a faint flush rise to her cheeks. "I'm just making sure you're prepared," she replied smoothly. "It's a high-stakes dinner, after all."
"Of course," he said, his tone completely serious, though his eyes betrayed him. "I appreciate the… thorough instruction."
Irina took a steady breath, pushing past the faint blush she felt from his teasing as she continued her "instruction." The next part was equally important: timing in conversation—knowing when to speak and when to listen, the subtle rhythm of polite pauses, and how to navigate a formal dinner without appearing too eager or, worse, uncivilized.
"Now," she said, her tone a touch more serious, though she couldn't resist the occasional playful glance his way, "when it comes to conversation, timing is key. You'll need to listen attentively, show you're interested, and only speak when it's appropriate." She demonstrated, holding a calm, polite gaze and nodding slightly as though following an invisible conversation. "If there's a pause, don't rush to fill it. Keep a natural rhythm, like this."
Astron mimicked her movements perfectly, his posture and expressions just as she'd shown him. His attentive expression, that composed poise—it was nearly flawless. Irina struggled to find any excuse to correct him. The way he carried himself was graceful, and his demeanor was almost effortlessly refined, leaving her little to critique.
And that was normal. While Astron did not show it outside, he had practiced how to control his mimics, gestures, and every part of his body countless times before, so that he could mask his intentions and everything.
With [Perceptive Insight] he was able to grasp it rather fast, and he had already mastered it when he was at the academy.
However, Irina still did not care. Not willing to let him off that easily, she leaned in, eyes narrowing with a mock-critical gaze. "And when someone raises a point, make sure you react accordingly," she said, touching his arm lightly as though making a point. "A subtle nod, a thoughtful glance. Show engagement without overdoing it."
Astron's eyes flickered with that same faint amusement, but he nodded, following her instructions.
And well…... She couldn't help but feel a thrill at having his attention. 'This bastard's face is really deadly now.'
As the lesson continued, a thought crossed her mind, her gaze lingering on him as she weighed her options. She'd considered testing him in dance, to see how he handled the coordination and poise required. But she reminded herself this wasn't a banquet—they were preparing for a formal dinner, and introducing a dance would certainly be going overboard.
Still, her curiosity got the better of her. She held back a mischievous smile, simply observing him as he continued practicing with the same poise and focus. Perhaps another time she'd bring it up; for now, she decided to enjoy these moments.
It was not like she did not have the following one week to herself after all….
******
As the evening approached, Irina stood in front of the mirror in her quarters, adjusting the final details of her attire, ensuring every element was flawless. Her reflection showed composure, and elegance—a perfect Emberheart heir ready to face the high-stakes dinner with her mother. Yet, as she turned to Astron, waiting near the door, she felt a flicker of nerves she hadn't anticipated.
Dressed in formal attire that somehow managed to enhance his already striking appearance, Astron looked entirely at ease, his calm demeanor adding to the natural confidence he carried.
His presence was a reminder of the countless hours she'd spent preparing him for this, yet now, right before the moment of truth, she felt a small knot of anxiety tighten within her.
"Ready?" she asked, her voice steady, though her gaze betrayed a touch of uncertainty. She wasn't worried about his etiquette or performance—he had mastered everything she'd taught him. Still, the prospect of this dinner and all it represented weighed heavily on her mind.
"Ready."
Then, she led him to the dining room.
Chapter 663 - The Matriarch
Irina led Astron into the grand dining room, her steps confident, though the faint tension in her shoulders betrayed her awareness of the stakes. The room was elegantly lit, the flicker of Emberheart flames casting a warm, controlled glow across the polished mahogany table, which was set meticulously for three.
At the head of the table sat the largest chair, the seat of the Matriarch, a subtle reminder of her authority over this gathering. Across from it, two smaller yet equally refined chairs faced each other, reserved for Irina and Astron.
They approached their places, and Irina gestured for Astron to sit. He took his seat without hesitation, his movements steady, his expression composed. Irina sat opposite him, smoothing out her dress as she did so, feeling a flicker of pride as she noted his calm demeanor.
A quiet tension hung in the air as they waited for the Matriarch to arrive. Irina's gaze drifted to Astron, a silent reassurance in her eyes, though her own nerves simmered just below the surface. The dinner hadn't even begun, yet she was keenly aware of every tiny gesture, every breath she took.
The room was silent but for the faint crackling of the flames in the sconces along the walls, a gentle reminder of the Emberheart legacy. Irina kept her posture poised, her gaze steady, prepared for her mother's scrutiny.
After a few moments, a faint rustle of movement from the corridor signaled the arrival of the Matriarch.
*******
As the evening settled over the Emberheart estate, the Matriarch stood by the window in her chambers, her thoughts gathered like shadows cast by the waning light.
She had dressed with particular care tonight, draping herself in a gown of deep crimson that seemed to flicker like embers with each movement—a silent reminder of the power and presence she commanded. Her gaze drifted over the estate grounds, her mind calculating, assessing the various ways she might probe and test this guest of Irina's.
A soft knock at the door broke her contemplation. It was one of the maids, bowing as she entered. "Madam, the dinner is ready. The young lady and her guest have taken their seats."
The Matriarch's lips curved into a knowing smile. She could already sense their presence in the dining hall below—the confident, steady pulse of Irina's aura, tempered but persistent, and the unfamiliar yet resilient energy of the boy beside her.
There was a tension there, a contained power that hinted at more than his humble background might suggest.
"Very well," she replied, her voice smooth, masking the intrigue simmering beneath. She made her way toward the dining room, her steps light but deliberate, each one reflecting her measured intent.
In her mind, she sifted through the many ways she could test him—his manners, his reactions, his ability to withstand pressure. A subtle smile played on her lips; it was time to see if this boy truly had the strength Irina so adamantly believed in.
As she entered the dining room, her gaze fell upon Irina and the boy seated at the long, elegantly set table. Irina rose first, a spark of defiance mingling with respect in her eyes, while the boy followed suit, his posture calm.
'Hmm…..?'
The Matriarch's gaze shifted to him, taking in his composed demeanor, his steady eyes that met hers with neither arrogance nor fear.
Interesting,
she thought, noting his restraint.
'This face...A charm enhancement perhaps? This boy seems to have had a unique encounter recently.'
The Matriarch's eyes narrowed slightly as she assessed his appearance, noting the subtle changes in his features—a sharpness in his gaze, a refinement to his profile that hadn't been present in the previous reports she'd gathered.
Being the head of the Emberheart family, she had encountered her share of powerful mages and high-standing nobles, each bearing their own unique charms and enhancements. Beauty, she knew, was often as much a crafted illusion as a natural gift.
'Curious,'
she mused silently, a small flicker of intrigue sparking beneath her cool demeanor. The boy she had investigated before had possessed none of these refined qualities. This was no mere accident of youth; it was the result of a recent, fortuitous encounter.
'So, he has already begun to reshape himself,'
she noted, her mind efficiently filing away this information, checking off a small box in her mental ledger. It wasn't that his enhanced appearance impressed her; rather, it saved the effort.
Handsomeness was useful in its own way—a tool to influence, to charm. And in certain circles, it could save significant effort.
As the Matriarch settled into her seat, a chill seemed to descend upon the room, cooling the warmth that had briefly lingered in the air. She folded her hands gracefully before her, casting a glance at Irina and Astron across the table. Irina sat with a composed posture, her gaze steady but respectful, while Astron held himself with a calm alertness, waiting patiently. Neither spoke, both well aware that the rhythm of this evening rested entirely in the Matriarch's hands.
Her gaze lingered on Astron a moment longer, sizing him up in the quiet. Beneath her serene exterior, she held her reservations. '
This boy,'
she thought. '
A guest of dubious standing, unproven in strength and talent… hardly the partner one would choose for an Emberheart.'
To her, Astron's presence here felt like an indulgence of Irina's youthful sentiments, a product of her daughter's defiant streak, swayed by what she likely mistook for love or loyalty. In the Matriarch's experience, emotions were fickle, often clouding the better judgment required to lead a legacy as grand as Emberheart.
After a long silence, she reached for her glass, swirling the liquid within it thoughtfully before taking a sip. She placed the glass back on the table with a soft clink, her gaze never leaving Astron.
The Matriarch's gaze remained fixed on Irina, a faint, expectant smile playing at the edges of her lips. Her tone was smooth but held a quiet force as she spoke. "So… you are not going to introduce him to me, Irina?"
Irina's gaze narrowed slightly, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her expression. She knew well that her mother was already more than familiar with Astron's identity.
'
Don't you know already, Mother?'
her eyes seemed to say, a silent challenge simmering beneath her composed exterior.
But the Matriarch's eyes returned the look with an unspoken reply of their own: '
I know, but you are required to do as I please.'
Irina's jaw tightened, her composure straining under her mother's subtle demand. She knew there was no point in resisting, and yet, the calculated restraint in her mother's gaze infuriated her. She opened her mouth, prepared to comply despite her reluctance—
But before she could utter a word, Astron spoke, his voice calm and unshaken by the tension in the room. "I am Astron Natusalune," he said respectfully. "It is an honor to be here tonight, Madam Emberheart."
The Matriarch's gaze flicked to him, a brief flash of surprise passing through her eyes before settling back into an unreadable expression. He had spoken with a quiet assurance, a steadiness that neither flinched nor faltered. This was no timid boy stumbling through his introduction; this was a young man who understood the weight of the room's scrutiny and remained composed beneath it.
But at the same time, what he did was an act of defiance, that much being clear.
The Matriarch's gaze turned cold, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes bore into Astron. He had spoken without her invitation—a silent but unmistakable act of defiance. Irina's own gaze snapped to Astron as well, a glimmer of worry flaring in her widened eyes. They had reviewed etiquette meticulously; she had expected him to avoid even the smallest misstep. But here he was, breaking protocol in the very first moments.
The Matriarch's narrowed gaze sharpened, and a faint, icy smile touched her lips. "I don't recall asking you to speak, Young Natusalune," she said, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk. "It seems you carry a certain… arrogance for one so young."
As she spoke, the room seemed to grow heavier, the air thickening as her aura unfurled. The weight of her Archmage's presence pressed down on Astron, invisible yet undeniable, a force that seemed to seep into the very walls. She restrained herself, careful not to injure him, but the pressure was unmistakable, designed to test his resilience—and his nerve.
Astron's face did not even change a little as the aura bore down on him, but he held his ground, his calm expression unwavering even as the force tested his endurance. He met the Matriarch's gaze directly, a quiet resolve glinting in his eyes. The aura was suffocating, demanding submission, yet he did not falter.
"It might have seemed so, Madam," he replied, his voice steady despite the weight pressing upon him. "My intent was not to appear arrogant, only respectful. I am not a child who needs someone else's mouth to be introduced."
The Matriarch's eyes narrowed further, studying him as he withstood the pressure, her curiosity piqued even as her expression remained unreadable. '
He doesn't back down easily,'
she noted, the faintest hint of intrigue mingling with her irritation. '
But defiance alone does not make one worthy.'
Irina watched with barely concealed tension, her hands tightening slightly in her lap. She knew the risk Astron was taking by standing firm, but there was also a flicker of pride in her gaze. He was enduring it without faltering, even under her mother's oppressive aura.
After a prolonged silence, the Matriarch finally eased her aura, retracting the weight of her presence with a dismissive glance. "Respect," she murmured, her tone icy, "is shown through restraint and deference, not audacity."
"Restraint and deference go both ways….At the end of the day, in the table of clashes, it is the strong who gets the respect."
The Matriarch's eyebrows arched slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise flashing in her eyes as she took in Astron's response. '
This boy… truly was different,'
she thought, a mixture of intrigue and irritation simmering beneath her poised exterior.
He met her challenge head-on, with words that carried both defiance and a sharp insight—a confidence uncharacteristic of someone of his standing.
But she knew well that pressing further would be unseemly. To engage him in a prolonged battle of words and auras would reduce the evening to a display unworthy of the Emberheart's dignity.
With a slight wave of her hand, she signaled the maids to begin serving, allowing the charged atmosphere to settle as the meal commenced.
Chapter 664 - The Matriarch (2)
"Restraint and deference go both ways….At the end of the day, in the table of clashes, it is the strong who gets the respect."
As the meals came, Matriarch finally addressed those words.
Her gaze lingered on Astron for a beat longer, a subtle glint in her eyes as she acknowledged his words. "Indeed," she said, her voice a calm, measured tone. "Respect is often claimed by those with the strength to wield it. Though strength, Young Natusalune is not only a matter of power but of control. True strength is often quiet, disciplined."
As the maids presented the main course, the rich aroma of the dish filled the room—a premium cut of beef, prepared and marinated under special conditions to maximize its mana-rich qualities.
This was no ordinary meal; each slice of meat was infused with concentrated mana, a delicacy reserved for high-ranking magic families who required both sustenance and mana fortification in equal measure.
The Matriarch glanced at Astron as the plate was set before him, a hint of expectation in her eyes. To most, such a dish might seem indulgent, but in families like the Emberhearts, it served a deeper purpose.
Mana-infused food was essential for maintaining their heightened magical abilities and resilience. The body of a true mage could handle the surge of energy, absorbing and utilizing the mana for strength and refinement.
For an outsider, however—someone without rigorous training or a developed magical constitution—the mana could be overwhelming, even potentially dangerous if not consumed with control and moderation. She took a delicate bite, her gaze shifting briefly to Irina, who seemed relaxed, her posture indicating familiarity with this sort of meal.
The Matriarch then turned her attention to Astron, subtly watching for any reaction.
It was one thing to sit at the Emberheart table; it was quite another to partake in their mana-laden fare. If Astron was truly as capable as he presented himself to be, then he would understand how to handle the meal before him with care and skill.
The Matriarch took another slow bite of the mana-infused meat before turning her attention back to Astron, a faintly condescending smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She gestured subtly toward his plate, her tone laced with a quiet but unmistakable air of superiority.
"This dish, Young Natusalune," she began smoothly, "is not merely a meal. It is crafted with a refinement and potency that requires both skill and experience to consume safely. For someone of your… background, I would imagine this is quite unfamiliar."
The implication was clear: in her eyes, his meager experience would hardly prepare him for something so steeped in the elite practices of high-ranking magical families.
Irina stiffened slightly beside him, recognizing the veiled insult for what it was, but before she could intervene, Astron spoke, his voice calm but edged with defiance.
"Madam Emberheart," he replied, his tone respectful but firm, "I don't need experience with this particular dish to handle it. I assure you, I'm more than capable of managing a challenge like this."
Without hesitation, he took a measured bite of the mana-rich meat, his gaze steady and unwavering as he met the Matriarch's eyes. The subtle rudeness of his response—his willingness to call her out directly—was impossible to ignore. Yet his composure remained intact, each bite calculated, his focus entirely on absorbing the mana without being overwhelmed.
The Matriarch's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable as she studied him. She could sense his confidence and his controlled handling of the meal's potency, his challenge to her assumption clear and unmistakable.
"Interesting," she murmured after a moment, her tone still cool but laced with a hint of intrigue. "It appears you are indeed capable of holding your own, even when faced with the unfamiliar."
Astron raised his head slightly, acknowledging her words without breaking his calm demeanor.
"Indeed. It is when facing the unfamiliar that one's capabilities are tested, don't you think?"
He had taken up the challenge, and with each bite, he demonstrated that his strength was more than just a claim—it was something he had cultivated, regardless of her opinions of his background.
The Matriarch studied Astron with a glint of genuine interest in her eyes, the subtle curve of her lips betraying a hint of approval. He had not only handled her mana-laden challenge with composure but had met her subtle insult head-on, showing a quiet resilience and tact that few could muster. The boy was steadily rising in her estimation, though she kept her face an unreadable mask. There was much yet to assess—many layers of his character still to probe.
Her eyes flicked over him, noting his posture, the careful way he held his utensils, the precision in every movement. It was clear that he possessed a refined etiquette she hadn't anticipated. Inwardly, she acknowledged Irina's role in this; her daughter must have drilled him extensively, guiding him through the formalities and protocols expected at their table. Irina had, indeed, prepared him well.
'Still,'
she thought, her gaze thoughtful, '
How much of this discipline is his, and how much is a mask taught to him for tonight?'
She had seen far too many from modest backgrounds attempt to adopt the manners of the elite, only to falter and reveal a vulgarity beneath the surface. Manners and decorum required more than practice—they needed a deeper understanding and a certain temperament, one she doubted Astron would possess.
But as the meal progressed, she found herself with little to criticize. His demeanor remained composed and dignified, his every movement measured.
There was no overeagerness, no hesitation, nothing betraying the commoner's insecurity or roughness she had expected. He showed neither deference nor arrogance, maintaining a careful balance—a rare skill even among the nobility.
Despite her observations, the Matriarch's mind refused to grant him the full acknowledgment he might have earned.
Her pride, deeply ingrained and unyielding, would not allow her to accept so easily the notion that this boy, from such a modest background, could measure up to her expectations for an Emberheart.
She had stood against Irina's choice at every turn, had questioned and challenged it, and there was no way she would relent simply because of a few commendable traits displayed over a single dinner.
'No,'
she thought with an almost defiant inner conviction, '
I am an Archmage, the head of the Emberheart family. I have the right to maintain my standards, and to take pride in my judgments. It is indeed illogical. But so what?'
The very notion of yielding her opinion, even for a moment, felt like a compromise she was unwilling to make.
Pride was her prerogative, a privilege earned through years of discipline and rigor. She could and would take pride in whatever she deemed worthy—and if this boy were to truly earn her respect, he would need to do so on terms far stricter than a simple display of manners.
Her lips tightened slightly, a flicker of self-satisfaction crossing her face as she reaffirmed her decision.
'He has yet to truly prove himself, regardless of his current performance. He will need more than etiquette and composure to withstand what I expect from him.'
The Matriarch's gaze sharpened, her mind already weaving a new strategy to probe Astron's boundaries.
She had noted his distaste for being looked down upon….No, it was rather the fact that he hated when others were being inconvenienced because of him. It was subtle, but when she had pressured Irina earlier, Astron had intervened—a small defiance, but one that told her volumes about his character. '
Let's see,'
she mused, a glint of intrigue flashing in her eyes.
The Matriarch's gaze shifted to Irina, her tone polite yet laden with veiled curiosity as she broached the topic of Irina's performance. "Irina, I have been most attentive to your progress at the academy," she began, each word deliberate. "I understand that your grades remain at the top, as expected."
Irina inclined her head respectfully. "Yes, Mother. I work hard to maintain our family's standards."
The Matriarch's smile was slight, almost dismissive, as she continued, her attention drifting momentarily toward Astron. "Yes… and I've also noticed that you and Young Natusalune have been grouped together for most of your projects and assignments."
Astron's posture remained steady, but there was a flicker in his gaze as if sensing the subtle implication in her words.
Irina's expression grew guarded, aware of her mother's tendency to probe weaknesses in any form, but she kept silent, allowing the Matriarch to continue.
"Quite the rise, isn't it?" the Matriarch mused aloud, her eyes fixing on Astron with an unreadable intensity. "From the last rank at the start of the semester to a much… improved position by the end. Impressive for someone with such a steep learning curve, wouldn't you say?"
Her words were delivered smoothly, yet the implication was unmistakable—that perhaps Astron's rise in rank had been less a result of his own effort and more a consequence of his association with Irina. Her gaze lingered, as though awaiting some acknowledgment of this potential dependency.
"What do you mean mother?" Irina was the one to speak further. "That, his grades were not due to his efforts?"
The moment she asked this, the Matriarch's smile widened, though her eyes remained calculating. "I do not mean anything," she said smoothly, a note of skepticism barely concealed. "Though it is not unheard of for associations to sometimes… lend a certain advantage."
The Matriarch's gaze shifted to Irina, her faint smile never faltering, though a glint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "Tell me, Irina," she said, her tone deceptively mild, "why is that the first thing that came to your mind? Surely, as one of the academy's top students, you would know how performance is measured."
Irina felt a flash of irritation, her chest tightening as she realized her mother's game.
She planned this.
The Matriarch had known precisely how to manipulate her, to guide her into giving such an answer.
The question hadn't been about Astron's achievements—it had been a subtle trap, one she had unwittingly stepped into.
"For what reason, you are suspecting this, Madam Emberheart?" Just then, his voice intervened just as she expected. "Can you please clarify?"
Chapter 665 - The Matriarch (3)
Astron's voice broke through the tension, calm yet firm. "For what reason are you suspecting this, Madam Emberheart?" he asked, his gaze steady as he held her eyes. "Could you clarify?"
The Matriarch's smile widened, her amusement barely veiled as she met his question with a touch of condescension. "Of course, Young Natusalune," she replied smoothly. "You see, at the beginning of the semester, your ranking was… well, how should I put it? 2450 out of 2450 students."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice carrying a subtle edge. "It was, frankly, a surprise that you were even accepted into the academy with such a standing. Typically, such placements require considerable talent or, at the very least, influential connections." She paused, her eyes narrowing with a feigned look of pity. "Unfortunately, it appears you possess neither."
She let her words settle, watching Astron's reaction as she continued, "Yet, despite such a low start, you have climbed significantly in rank by the semester's end. And what's more interesting is that almost all of your major projects, dungeon raids, and practical assignments have been completed alongside Irina. Surely, you can understand why a mother might question whether this association has… perhaps provided you with a certain advantage."
The implication was clear: his rise in rank, she suggested, could hardly be attributed to his own efforts alone. Instead, she hinted, it was his connection to Irina that had opened doors he would not have managed otherwise.
Irina straightened, a spark of frustration flashing in her eyes as she opened her mouth to respond. "Mother, it's the academy's policy that once a group is formed, they continue together until the end of the semester—"
But before she could finish, the Matriarch raised a hand, silencing her with a single, authoritative gesture. Her gaze remained fixed on Astron, her expression cool and unyielding. "Those things that I mentioned should suffice as a reason, wouldn't you think, Young Natusalune?"
Astron met her gaze without hesitation, his voice calm but resolute as he responded. "Madam Emberheart, if I truly lacked connections or talent, as you imply, then Arcadia Hunter Academy would be… well, foolish to accept me. It is, after all, the best academy in the entire human domain. They have no reason to waste a slot on someone without potential, given the fierce competition to enroll."
The Matriarch's eyes narrowed, her gaze turning sharper, her lips curving into a faint, almost mocking smile. "And yet, the very same academy you hold in such high regard has been infiltrated and attacked by demon contractors no less than three times in recent years." She leaned forward slightly, her tone cold and cutting. "Do forgive me if their judgment seems questionable. I have every reason to doubt their competence in selecting students… or in protecting them, for that matter."
Astron's expression remained calm, though his eyes held a steady resolve as he continued. "It is indeed true that the academy's competence should be questioned in recent times, Madam Emberheart. However, these incidents are recent developments. Before this semester, Arcadia's prestige and reputation were well-earned, built over countless years of service and competence. And I believe that's precisely why you chose to send Irina—your family's heir—there in the first place."
The Matriarch's lips curved into a faint smile, a glint of amusement in her gaze as she considered his words. "Oh? Then are you suggesting that my sources somehow failed to uncover the truth of how you were admitted to the academy? Are you claiming I missed something so crucial?"
Astron met her gaze steadily, unphased by the implication. "It might be the case, Madam, one would not know without the information."
Astron continued, his tone calm yet unwavering. "To add more, Madam Emberheart, the academy is far from ignorant. They are well aware of the potential for students to benefit unfairly from group projects. That's why individual assessments are conducted separately, and every team captain is required to submit detailed group reports on each member's contributions. As Irina was the one submitting these reports, it implies she considered my work worthy enough to credit."
The Matriarch's smile thinned, a glint of sharpness flashing in her eyes. "Or perhaps," she replied smoothly, "my daughter's vision has been… compromised by certain emotions, emotions that might cloud her judgment."
Astron didn't miss a beat, his voice steady as he met her gaze head-on. "If that were the case, Madam, then it would suggest that she lacks the discernment to choose the right person to stand by her side. And perhaps… such a shortfall could be attributed to decisions made by her predecessors?"
The Matriarch's smile froze, her expression hardening as the meaning of his words sank in. He had not only defended Irina's judgment but subtly implied that if she had any such blind spots, it might reflect the influence—or failure—of her own upbringing and guidance. Her gaze sharpened, a flicker of irritation breaking through her composed exterior.
"A bold statement, Young Natusalune. It seems your manners are lacking, perhaps because of the lack of parents to teach you?"
Astron's eyes narrowed slightly at the Matriarch's pointed remark, the subtle sting of her words hitting deeper than she could see. But he quickly regained his composure, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge as he replied.
Astron's gaze remained unwavering, a calm defiance simmering beneath his composed exterior. "True, Madam," he began, his tone carrying a quiet edge. "People like us tend to learn manners on our own, to find our own way. But it appears there are also those whose parents are present—yet absent when it comes to guiding them in more… meaningful ways. Don't you think, it is more pitiful for such people to exist?"
The Matriarch's expression froze for a fraction of a second, her eyes narrowing as his words settled in. He hadn't raised his voice or wavered in his tone, yet the implication was clear. In his measured, polite response lay a subtle reproach, suggesting that mere presence alone didn't guarantee influence or genuine guidance—a pointed remark on the hollowness of some bonds.
An icy silence hung between them, and Irina glanced anxiously between her mother and Astron, sensing the depth of the moment. The Matriarch's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze colder than before, though her curiosity was unmistakable. Few dared to speak to her so boldly, especially while standing on such uncertain ground.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was smooth but sharp as a blade. "A bold observation, Mr. Natusalune."
Few people dared to speak to her mother so directly—let alone imply any form of shortcoming. And yet, Astron's calm, measured tone held no arrogance, only a steadfast confidence that gave weight to his words.
'This is…..not good….'
It was not going in the direction she wanted at all…..This guy, why was he talking like that to her mother? Did he have a death wish!?
The Matriarch's expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she regarded Astron. Despite his respectful tone, his words cut deeper than any arrogance might have, challenging not only her reasoning but the pride she took in her judgment. Anger simmered beneath her calm exterior, her pride feeling the sharp sting of his unyielding resolve.
"It seems, Mr. Natusalune," she said, her voice dangerously low, "that you may have mistaken your worth, or overestimated your strength." Her aura intensified, and flames began to flicker around her, moving with a controlled precision that hinted at the sheer depth of her power. The heat in the room grew oppressive, the flames dancing closer to him, warning him of the peril his words had invited.
"One should tread carefully, lest they vanish in a single moment," she said, her tone carrying the weight of her threat.
But Astron stood firm, his posture unwavering despite the suffocating heat. His voice remained steady as he responded, his gaze unflinching. "Madam, I only speak the truth as I see it. Everyone's life hangs by a thread at every moment, and yours is no exception." He took a measured breath, seemingly undeterred by her fire. "An Archmage wields the power to annihilate millions in a heartbeat. I have no control over the actions of such a person, nor over whether I will survive those actions. Given that reality, I prefer to speak my mind honestly rather than hide behind empty flattery."
'This….'
For some reason, the moment Irina heard those words, she was reminded of the times when she acted the same. At that time she was also offended by his words, and back then she was much more fiery ever than before.
And he had replied to her words, in the same manner, without any ounce of fear and regret. The same eyes, that only felt cold and empty.
'Hahah....'
And for some reason, she felt like laughing, though she hardly suppressed her emotions.
His calm, logical reply cut through the tension, striking a chord in the room that even the Matriarch couldn't ignore. There was no pleading, no fear in his words—only the acceptance of his vulnerability and the resolve to stand by his convictions.
The Matriarch's flames subsided slightly, her eyes narrowing as she took in his words, her anger tempered by an undeniable curiosity. Few people dared to speak with such honesty before her, let alone someone with so little apparent power. Despite her pride, a part of her could not help but respect his stance, however infuriating she found it.
After a long, tense silence, she allowed a faint smile to return to her face, though it lacked warmth. "You really are interesting."
The Matriarch's faint, chilling smile lingered as she observed Astron with renewed interest. Though his defiance had stirred her irritation, it had also, finally, brought her to the point she had intended all along.
"Well," she began, her voice smooth but carrying an unmistakable edge, "if you're so certain of yourself, it's time you proved that certainty." She glanced briefly at Irina as if to remind her of the glowing praise she had once given this young man. "When Irina spoke of you, her words were filled with… remarkable confidence. She believed you worthy of privileges within this house, even access to the armory."
Irina's expression shifted, her gaze turning wary as she caught on to her mother's intentions.
"But," the Matriarch continued, turning her gaze back to Astron, "I cannot grant such privileges to someone who is all words and no action. So I ask you, Mr. Natusalune—will you back up that bold stance of yours?"
Astron's eyes met hers without flinching, his voice steady. "What would you have me do, Madam?"
The Matriarch's smirk grew, a glint of challenge flickering in her eyes.
"One day in the Chamber of Emberheart."
"Mother!"