A faint smile appeared on her face.
"In fact, you’ve become rather popular around here already. The story of you confronting Verilux has been spreading through the settlement ever since you arrived."
"Seriously?"
"Oh yes. Samuel has been trying to stop people from exaggerating, but that only seems to make them exaggerate even more. At this point some people are claiming you challenged Verilux directly while others insist you somehow escaped after stealing something from right under his nose."
I rubbed my forehead.
The old woman chuckled before her expression softened slightly.
"Regardless of what actually happened, you’ve given people something they haven’t had in a very long time."
"What’s that?"
"A good entertainment."
She laughed softly.
The conversation continued for a little while longer, drifting toward smaller topics that felt almost absurd after everything we had discussed.
Eventually Evelyn placed her empty teacup onto the table and rose from her chair with a faint groan.
"Well then."
I stood as well.
"I suppose that’s my cue to leave?"
"It is."
The old woman smiled.
"The council has been waiting long enough already. If we delay any further, they’ll start convincing themselves I’ve secretly adopted you."
"I would not mind that."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Careful."
I laughed. Then, before I could react, Evelyn stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
The embrace caught me completely off guard. For a second I simply stood there.
The old woman wasn’t particularly tall and her frame seemed frail compared to most Saints, yet the hug felt strangely warm.
It wasn’t the embrace of a powerful cultivator. It was the embrace of a grandmother.
A grandmother I had never known existed.
"You’ve had quite a journey, child."
Her voice was quiet.
"Try not to die immediately after finding us."
I couldn’t help smiling.
"I’ll do my best."
"Good."
She released me and lightly patted my shoulder. Then, without turning around, she casually spoke toward the empty room.
"Samuel. You can come in now."
The door opened almost instantly.
I stared.
Samuel stepped inside with the same calm expression he always wore.
"You were listening the entire time?"
"No."
The answer came far too quickly.
Evelyn snorted.
Samuel chose not to defend himself.
Instead he simply looked at me.
"The council is waiting."
I shook my head.
Saints truly had no concept of privacy.
A few minutes later we left the building and rose into the sky.
The city stretched beneath us as streams of people moved through the enormous avenues below. Seen from above, the Ironhart settlement felt even larger than before.
Unlike the hurried flight that had brought me here, Samuel moved at a steady pace, allowing me to properly observe the city.
My gaze eventually settled upon a colossal structure near the center.
It dominated the skyline.
A massive silver dome rose from the heart of the settlement, its surface covered in countless glowing runes that continuously shifted across the metal like flowing rivers of light. Several towering pillars surrounded the structure, each extending thousands of meters into the sky before curving inward toward the dome itself.
The entire building looked less like architecture and more like a gigantic artifact.
"The council hall?"
I asked.
Samuel nodded.
"It was built during the early resistance years." A moment later we descended onto a wide circular platform before the entrance.
The doors alone were over fifty meters tall. As they slowly opened, a wave of ancient soul force rolled outward.
Samuel stepped inside.
I followed.
The interior was even larger than the exterior suggested.
Rows of ascending seats formed concentric circles around a vast central platform while enormous banners bearing the symbols of the surviving bloodlines hung from the ceiling high above. Floating crystals illuminated the chamber with a soft silver glow that reflected off the polished black stone beneath our feet.
At the center sat the council itself. There were fewer members than I had expected.
Around twenty individuals occupied the elevated seats.
One old man sat wrapped in a dark cloak, his silver beard reaching nearly to his waist while countless scars covered the exposed portions of his skin.
Another elderly woman possessed completely white eyes and looked as though a strong breeze might knock her over despite the terrifying soul fluctuations surrounding her.
Others appeared to be in their middle years.
Broad-shouldered warriors, stern-faced scholars, elegant women dressed in battle robes and men whose calm expressions carried the confidence of people who had survived centuries of war.
A few looked surprisingly young.
One woman appeared barely older than seventy, though the Saint aura surrounding her made it obvious appearances meant very little here.
As I scanned the chamber, I quickly realized something else. Not everyone present was an Ironhart.
Several carried distinctly different bloodlines.
The silver-eyed features of the Hidas.
The golden hair common among the Haliakas.
The sharp predatory gazes of the Silverbanes.
For the first time, I wasn’t looking at a family council.
I was looking at the leadership of the entire resistance.
And judging by the expressions directed toward me, every one of them had been waiting for this meeting.
The silence that followed my arrival didn’t feel hostile.
It felt curious.
Dozens of eyes studied me from every corner of the chamber. Some openly, others more discreetly.
Eventually one of the council members rose from his seat.
A warm smile spread across his face.
"Welcome, Billion Ironhart."
His voice carried effortlessly throughout the chamber.
"My name is Marcus Ironhart. It is good to finally meet you."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"And more importantly, it is good to know that another branch of the Ironhart family survived."
The warmth in his words didn’t feel political. It felt genuine.
Marcus shook his head with a smile.
"To be honest, I never expected it."
His gaze shifted toward one of the figures seated further along the council. A faint grin appeared on his face.
"Of all the branches that could have survived, I certainly never imagined it would be yours."
Several council members laughed.
Others rolled their eyes.
I followed Marcus’s gaze.
The man he was looking at hadn’t spoken a single word since my arrival. He sat near the center of the council.
Unlike many of the Saints present, he wore no elaborate robes or armor. His clothes were plain. Simple dark fabric. No ornaments or decorations.
His hair was completely white, tied loosely behind his back. Deep wrinkles lined his face, and his posture appeared almost relaxed as he sat there listening to the discussion.
Yet despite the countless powerful Saints gathered within the chamber, my instincts kept drifting back toward him.
Marcus noticed my expression and smiled.
"I suppose introductions are in order."
His gaze shifted between us.
"Billion Ironhart."
He pointed toward the old man.
"Meet Dean Ironhart."
The chamber became quiet.
Marcus’s smile widened.
"Your oldest living ancestor in the null realm."
For a moment my mind simply stopped working.
Ancestor.
The word sounded absurd.
Not a distant relative.
An actual direct ancestor.
Several generations above me. Dean continued looking at me for another moment before speaking. His voice was calm and surprisingly ordinary.
"Well he sure got his handsome looks from me."
The council immediately erupted into laughter.