Ancestral Lineage

A few moments before...

Ethan closed the door behind him, letting the quiet hum of the skyscraper's systems drown out the lingering tension. His steps were slow, measured, but his mind was racing.

Emma Fenrir Duskhaven.

He had known the moment he laid eyes on her. Those lupine eyes, that sharp pride, the strength thrumming beneath her skin like a storm waiting to break. She wasn't like the others. Not like Trevor, not like Lamair, not even like his wives. She was something older, rawer.

A predator that had learned restraint only because it chose to, not because it had to.

And she was his soulmate.

He leaned against the walls of the skyscraper, tilting his head back and letting out a slow breath. His mismatched eyes glowed faintly in the early sunlight.

"She thinks I'm after her body," he muttered to himself, lips curving into a half-smile. "This is new. She's really a monster, huh?"

His mind replayed her outburst; the fangs, the aura that cracked the room, the fire in her beautiful voice when she spat that she would rather die than give herself to him.

Most men would have recoiled. But Ethan... Ethan found himself smiling even now. It took another crazy to see crazy, and Ethan was known for that.

"That pride... It's intoxicating."

He understood her anger. He understood her fear.

She had built herself as a fortress, a wolf who bowed to no one. She was the World Wolf. The Wolf Primogenitor. The queen of all wolf beings in the world. The leader of a pack, and a leader, had immense pride.

A leader never bowed!

And here he was, not tearing those walls down, but standing in front of them, waiting. Testing her just as she was testing him.

You can bare your fangs, threaten to kill me, and deny what you feel. But you can't silence what we are.

The words had been instinct, pulled from somewhere deeper than logic. And when he saw the flicker in her eyes, the way her heartbeat stumbled for just a moment, he knew he had struck truth.

"She will fight me," he said quietly, his smile softening into something more dangerous. Something certain. "But I'll prove myself to her. Not with words. With action."

He pushed himself off the wall, the emperor's composure settling over him once more. Yet beneath it, his heart was thrumming in a way it hadn't in years.

"This isn't business anymore," he admitted under his breath, golden light briefly flashing in his eyes. "It is war. A war worth winning."

With that, he disappeared.

...

Morning had fully claimed the empire.

The skies above Anbord shimmered with streams of neon-blue transit lines, where hovercraft and skyships moved in synchronized patterns.

Towering skyscrapers gleamed like obsidian and crystal, their glass surfaces reflecting the pale light of the rising sun.

Down below, the streets thrummed with life. Vendors along the lower tiers sold steaming food from stalls powered by plasma coils. Children with artificial wings chased one another, laughing as they darted between floating lampposts.

And everywhere, the empire's banners rippled; golden sigils of three interlocking rings woven against black silk, reminders of the Emperor's presence even after two decades of slumber and the war. To the soldiers patrolling in sleek armor, it was a reason to stand straighter, prouder.

No one knew who made those banners or how it was distributed. It just came into being, and anyone who looked at it felt the vast presence of their emperor. Their god.

...

The market district pulsed with weekend energy. Rows of stalls lined the broad, glass-tiled avenue, their awnings bright with holographic displays that shimmered between colors to catch the eye.

Vendors called out cheerfully, voices mixing with the sizzling of oil and the clatter of candy molds being tapped free.

The air was thick with the scent of caramel, fried dough, and honey-drenched pastries. Children tugged at their parents' sleeves, begging for spun-sugar towers that glowed faintly under neon threads woven into the strands.

Close by, the laughter of the amusement park bled into the market. The towering silhouette of a gravity coaster looped high into the skyline, its carriages shrieking with joy as they twisted upside down.

Music from arcades drifted through the air, flashing lights spilling onto the street where lines of eager kids clutched wristbands and tokens. The entire place hummed with carefree delight; the weekend ritual of families, lovers, and friends losing themselves in wonder.

It was in this happy chaos that the atmosphere shifted.

Heads began to turn. Whispers sparked like static. Phones rose into the air, lenses glowing as they tried to capture what words could not.

Three figures were walking down the main avenue toward the amusement park gates. The crowd parted almost unconsciously, like ripples making way for stones in water. Children stopped mid-bite, vendors paused with trays in hand, and grown men and women leaned forward with wide eyes, mouths half-open in disbelief.

"Is that... no way!" someone breathed.

"It's them. It's really them."

"Gods above, they're even more radiant in person."

The atmosphere was electric, feverish, as though the entire district had stumbled into a dream. People surged closer, phones recording, pictures flashing, laughter breaking into excited screams. A collective awe hung over the market, not the kind given to officials or rulers, but the dazzled reverence reserved only for those so far above the rest of the world they seemed untouchable.

The three weren't just entering the amusement park. They were making the world stop and remember that legends walked among them.

As the phones tilted higher, the three finally stepped fully into view.

At the center was Ethan. Gone was the ceremonial uniform, the regal mantle of Anbord's emperor. Today, he wore a dark, fitted t-shirt tucked neatly into tailored black jeans, the kind of simple style that only seemed to magnify his presence rather than mute it.

A lightweight bomber jacket, matte with faint golden stitching along the seams, hung open, shifting as he walked.

His silvery-white hair was pulled loosely back, though a few rebellious strands fell forward, framing his sharp, handsome face.

And covering his mismatched eyes was a pair of circular rimmed dark glasses, protecting the people from the weight of his gaze. After all, he was a very powerful being, and he still didn't have full control over his powers.

Even dressed like any man on the street, there was no mistaking him. His stride carried the ease of someone who ruled more than empires. And even though he had changed in appearance after his evolution, everyone still recognized him.

To his right walked Regnare. The boy's resemblance to his father was uncanny, yet softer and fresher, as though sculpted from the same mold but still untempered by age. In fact, he looked more like Ethan's little brother than his son.

He wore a cream hoodie with subtle geometric accents, paired with distressed denim and sleek sneakers that seemed more than designer, almost alive with faint etchings of light.

His dark blue draconic eyes gleamed with restless energy, constantly darting around with curiosity and unspoken confidence, a storm of youth wrapped in the shadow of greatness.

His white hair was tied in a twin-braid, and his regal horns were hidden.

On Ethan's left, Delphina carried herself with an elegance that made strangers hush. Her curls, long and flowing, shimmered with faint iridescence. She wore a cropped top of midnight blue and wide-legged white pants cinched with a metallic belt, the kind of effortless modern chic that blended grace and edge.

Sunglasses rested atop her head, though she hardly needed them. Her smile alone could eclipse the brightness around her. She clutched a simple sling bag, her every motion casual, but the way she moved gave the impression of royalty even without a crown.

The three of them together didn't just look like a family out for the weekend. They looked like something larger than life, too perfect for the mundane backdrop of food stalls and arcade games.

The crowd's reactions swelled:

"Emperor Ethan... It's him. It's really him!"

"Those are the crown prince and princess?! My god, they look like stars stepped out of heaven."

"Take a picture, hurry!"

"Wait... no record! This will break the net in seconds!"

And in truth, it already was. Streams went live, feeds lit up, whispers turned to shouts. Some cried, some laughed nervously, some simply stared as though their entire existence had been validated by the chance to glimpse them.

Ethan, Regnare, and Delphina walked on, unaffected, slipping into the flow of the weekend crowd. Yet no one around them could ignore the fact: this was no ordinary Saturday anymore.

Not when the emperor himself was walking among them, casually munching on skewered meat like a starving student after finals. He had one hand stuffed into his pocket, the other juggling snacks: grilled dumplings, candied fruit, and something suspiciously deep-fried that he didn't even stop to identify before biting into. To the people, this was the man who toppled armies with a glance, who sat above the council of kings and sovereigns… now arguing with a vendor over whether he could get "just one more stick" at a discount.

Some in the crowd whispered in awe, others in disbelief.

"Wait—that's the emperor?!"

"Why does he eat like my little brother after football practice?"

"Did… did he just lick the sauce off his fingers?!"

Cameras zoomed in, capturing the surreal contrast: the emperor of Anbord, feared and worshiped, now looking very much like a hungry wolf let loose in a food festival. And with each bite, his expression only grew more satisfied, as though culinary victory meant more to him in that moment than any throne ever could.