The Nihility Chef

As Samael jumped onto his bed, he thought about his family. He was part of the Forte family, a noble house that owned restaurants across the globe. They were one of the richest families in the world, thanks in no small part to their cheat-like Fortuna bloodline.

The Fortuna bloodline granted its bearers incredible luck. The ancestor of the Forte family had used this luck to help the Britannia Empire become one of the most influential territories in the world. In the process, he built a business empire that allowed the family to thrive for generations.

Many powerful individuals, families, and territories had tried to recruit the Forte family, hoping their luck would bolster their own strength. However, the Forte family remained concentrated in the Britannia Empire, their collective luck amplifying the empire's fortune. This had led to a surge of people moving to the city where the Forte family resided, driven by rumors that simply living near them would bring good luck.

This overpowered bloodline had also made them many enemies, but the Forte family always survived—because, well, they were just that lucky.

A fun fact about them: they were banned from every gambling establishment. People had even developed devices that sounded an alarm specifically when they detected the Fortuna bloodline.

In recent years, the Forte family had chosen to keep a low profile, focusing on improving their trade. William, the patriarch and one of the family members with the highest concentration of the bloodline, had refined their techniques, making their restaurants even more renowned.

As mentioned earlier, their specialty was restaurants, followed by inns and hotels. This tradition stemmed from their ancestor, who had been the chef of his adventuring group. He passed down his culinary craft to his descendants, and over time, the Forte family's cooking became legendary. So much so that even powerful figures—Sages included—had begged to taste food prepared by the Forte family themselves, not just their restaurants.

The family held the noble rank of Duke and were second only to the royal family. After all, no sane person would dare offend a family whose power was essentially being lucky.

There were countless stories of their luck. For example, one descendant being chased by enemies only for those enemies to fall into a random sinkhole and die. Another ancestor fell off a cliff and into a cave, where they stumbled upon the inheritance and treasures of a Tribulation Realm powerhouse.

If you asked which family was both the most feared and desired, most would say the Forte family. Even the most irritable dragons acted docile around them, as no matter how strong you were, bad luck could still kill you.

Samael had truly been born with a golden spoon in his mouth.

He was eager to learn his family's cooking techniques, seizing every opportunity to become a better chef. Now, with an even bigger stage before him, he was determined to reach the top once again. His father had promised to teach him once he began cultivating.

Samael tried to sleep, but he was too excited. He was ready to explore new techniques, blend them with his own, and improve. He also needed to think about how much he would reveal to his parents about the Swallowing Nihility Body's abilities—they were simply too shocking.

However, fatigue eventually caught up with him, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Back in the royal palace...

"You may leave," commanded the figure on the throne. "And do not worry about the boy or his inheritance. I will deal with it."

Alice's protector stuttered, "Y-y-your Majesty, what are you planning to do with him? He is the heir of the Forte family, after all."

"Must I answer to you?"

The protector's face paled as the words reached his ears. He had just irritated one of the strongest people in the world.

"I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered, scrambling to his knees and bowing in apology.

"Leave."

The protector hastily exited the throne room.

The figure on the throne rose and walked to his balcony. Every movement exuded power and authority, as if the world itself should bow before him. He looked like a ruler who commanded the very heavens.

"The Forte family…" he murmured to the night sky. "They've grown too powerful lately. People respect them more than me. Am I the emperor, or are they?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of a storm. "However, their bloodline is… troublesome. I can't touch them directly. But everything has a weakness. I just need to find it." A faint smile crept across his face as he spoke.

Moonlight illuminated the balcony, revealing the emperor more clearly. He appeared to be between 25 and 30 years old (though he was obviously much older). He stood at 1.95 meters tall, his muscular frame straining against his gold and black robes, which were adorned with intricate dragon designs. His short blonde hair and braided beard gave him a Viking-like appearance. His expression was stoic, his presence domineering.

In one word, he was commanding.

The emperor was one of the most talked-about figures on the continent. Some called him a tyrant; others, a hero. He had originally been the fifth prince, an invisible contender in the race for the throne. But he had been biding his time, hiding his true strength.

On the day of his eldest brother's coronation, he had rebelled.

With his allies at his back, he stormed the royal capital, slaughtering his way to the palace. There, he engaged in a legendary battle against his siblings and father, all of whom had supported the eldest prince as the rightful heir.

He. Killed. Them. All.

On that day, a crown stained with the blood of his own family was placed upon his head.

As despair gripped the empire, the people braced for the reign of a tyrant. But instead, the emperor implemented new laws and strengthened Britannia, making it more powerful than ever. This earned him the nickname "The Righteous Tyrant."