Queen Beatrice sat in the absolute centre of the VIP box, a solitary figure of solemn, focused intensity. The majestic, blood-red dress A week of grueling, near-impossible practice—the self-sacrificial mastery of the complex technique was etched into the subtle, weary hardness around her eyes. She appeared entirely present, yet her mind replayed the frantic, compressed minutes of that week, each one a silent prayer for the success of her desperate gamble.

  Below her, in the colossal, newly constructed colosseum—a structure that powerfully echoed the grand arenas of the ancient Roman Empire—the air crackled with anticipation. The tiered seating was a swirling ocean of the Chenwongo Kingdom'sAwakening CeremonyThe atmosphere was a volatile mixture: fervent, almost desperate excitement from the audience and a crushing, stomach-churning anxiety from the youths whose fates were about to be revealed.

  On the central ceremonial platform stood the Anchor

  Finally, the Anchor raised both arms, a dramatic gesture that demanded silence. His voice, amplified by some unseen resonance technique, rang out across the vast space, cutting the murmuring crowd into an immediate hush.

  “Let the Awakening Ceremony officially begin!”

  The fate of a new generation, and indeed, the future line of the Chenwongo dynasty, was about to be decided.

  The Anchor explained that tradition was best understood through experience. He unrolled a long, aged note—the list of the day’s participants—and called out the first name.

  “Vivek Vritan!

  A young man detached himself from the nervous huddle. Vivek had a shock of white, curly hairtorn yellow shirt

  Vivek felt the weight of a thousand scrutinizing gazes upon him, and a palpable tension caused his hands to shake. The Anchor, sensing the boy's fear, took him gently by the arm and guided him to the dead center of the colosseum platform.

  At the heart of the circular space stood the ritual setup: a wide, concentric circle marked on the stone floor, and just beyond it, a magnificent statue.

  The statue was of a woman, a figure of profound, imposing beauty. This was Emperor Dominatrixwhite with faint silver undertones Her right hand gripped the hilt of a sheathed, golden sword, resting by her side. It was a posture of both supreme power and compassionate offer—as if she were extending her hand to raise someone from the ground.

  The statue was a secret, visible only to those who had already Awakened or were about to participate. To everyone else—the general audience, even young Jai—it was an empty platform. The sight stunned Vivek; for a fleeting moment, the statue’s life-like realism made him question if it was truly stone.

  The Anchor pulled out a small, ritualistic silver blade. He took Vivek’s hand, cutting a minute part of the boy’s finger. A tiny bead of liquid welled up. It was colourless

  The Anchor held the finger over the crystal in the statue’s hand and poured the colourless blood onto the surface.

  The effect was instantaneous and dramatic. The crystal flared, emitting a focused beam of combined orange and blue light

  “By the will of the Emperor and the revelation of the Crystal,” the Anchor’s voice boomed, triumphant, “Vivek Vritan is Awakened!Fire and Water!

  A shocked, euphoric roar erupted from the audience.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Outside the colosseum, where un-Awakened citizens listened via massive, kingdom-wide speakers, Vivek’s parents collapsed into each other’s arms, their sobs of joy echoing the news. Both of them had been born without a gift, forcing them to endure the cold, relentless cruelty of a world that valued power above all else. Their son had broken the cycle.

  Seated high in the crowd, the young protagonist, JaiThis is how the world works, he thought, his young mind processing the harsh reality.

  His reflection was interrupted by the Anchor’s next call.

  “James Chenwongo!

  James, Jai’s cousin, stood and walked with a self-assured, arrogant stride toward the centre. As he passed his cousin, James paused just long enough to shoot Jai a mocking, superior smirk—a look that said

  Jai thought, his jaw tightening slightly.

  The ceremony proceeded. James’s blood, when tested, was a vibrant emerald green, indicating his lineage and potential. When the crystal flared, the light was a dazzling silver and a rushing cobalt. The Anchor’s announcement confirmed the expected result: James had Awakened the rare and potent elemental powers of Air and Space

  The hours that followed became a blur of dramatic colour and sound. The colosseum was filled with the shifting chorus of human emotion: roars of elation, whispers of jealousy, shouts of disappointment, and the sharp, acidic sting of sadness. Some participants were gifted with powerful, rare elements; others with weaker, more utilitarian abilities; and still others, tragically, produced only the clear, colourless droplet, remaining un-Awakened.

  The faces of the elders, the established powerful, often reflected a subtle envy towards the newly empowered youths—a reminder that the thirst for power never truly ends.

  Time raced with a frightening, lighting-fast pace. The list of names dwindled. Eventually, the last hopeful stood before the statue and received his fate.

  Jai sat bolt upright, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He was one of the few high-ranking family members remaining, yet his name had not been called. The Anchor, completely unaware of the political significance, calmly gathered his notes.

  “That concludes the Awakening Ceremony for today!” the Anchor announced, his voice echoing the finality of the decision. “We must wait until the cycle of the stars aligns for us to perform the ritual again, one year from now.”

  A wave of stunned silence washed over the royal box. Jai was dumbfounded.

  Before the Anchor could even step off the platform, the head of the entire family, Queen Beatrice Chenwongo

  “Anchor,” she stated, her voice calm but undeniable, “My grandson’s turn was not yet completed. Jai Chenwongo

  Her authority was absolute. The Anchor, pale, quickly corrected his error. Guards were immediately dispatched, escorting a bewildered Jai to the platform.

  Jai approached the statue, the immense weight of the entire kingdom now focused solely on him. A guard took his hand, performing the ritual cut.

  The sight that followed was not merely unusual; it was unprecedented. Jai’s blood was not clear, nor was it one of the common colours like red, blue, or green. It was a brilliant, molten gold.

  The Anchor gasped, nearly dropping the silver blade. Golden blood was something spoken of only in the most ancient of texts, reserved for the legendary first bloodline, those who existed even before the Emperor. Yet, Jai had not yet Awakened any powers. This was a mystery.

  Swallowing his apprehension, the Anchor collected the golden drop and poured it onto the white and silver crystal in the Emperor Dominatrix’s hand.

  The crystal’s reaction was terrifyingly powerful. It did not merely glow; it unleashed an immense, blinding pillar of yellow lightgolden sparks

  Overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the energy, Jai instinctively shut his eyes, his nervousness escalating into sheer terror.

  When he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he was no longer alone.

  Standing directly in front of him, shimmering faintly within the yellow column of light, was a woman. She was an exact, breathing replica of the statue—a white, translucent figure wearing a flowing black dressgolden sword

  She looked down at Jai, and her voice, a gentle, melodic whisper that somehow resonated only within his mind, spoke the words of his destiny.

  “Now, it is your turn to save the world,” she told him, her eyes ancient and wise. “The trials of the new generation are vast and hard. Be careful, my son.”

  With that final, enigmatic warning, the figure—the true manifestation of the Emperor Dominatrix

  To the audience, the vision was different, yet just as awe-inspiring. They had seen a majestic golden woman’s silhouette, holding a sword

  The crowd was utterly silent. No one understood what kind of power this was. It had no colour, no element, no description in the Anchor’s traditional lexicon.

  In the VIP box, Queen Beatrice sank back into her chair, her face a mask of intense, conflicting emotions. Her eyes were filled with simultaneous joy and deep, abiding worry. She spoke only two sentences, her voice hushed, as if speaking a secret that the universe was now about to learn.

  “This… this is the power.” A single tear tracked a path through the dust on her cheek. “This is the power that the great Emperor Dominatrix

  The kingdom’s fate was not just forged that day; it had been entirely redefined. Jai Chenwongo was not merely awakened. He was the inheritor of a legacy, a living myth that had just stepped onto the world's stage.

  The monumental task that awaited Queen Beatrice was no longer a secret. It was a terrifying reality, now literally etched into the golden-blooded skin of her descendant.