The nobles watched with envy and jealousy as such a magnificent gift was bestowed upon a child. Dragons possess immense power, almost guaranteeing they will attain sage rank, if not paragon. In comparison, most humans struggle to reach even grandmaster rank, which is equivalent to level 300.

  After the Drakethorne family gave their respective gifts, Ragnar Drakethorne and Nyra Blackheart descended the terrace and reached the banquet.

  While Shane Drakethorne and Sera Azurestorm remained by the throne, nobles, merchants, heirs, heiresses, and the veterans who had arrived with Ragnar Drakethorne began to approach the terrace in an orderly procession. It was clear they intended to present their gifts personally to Alex Drakethorne, the heir of the Drakethorne family.

  Most of the gifts were either enchanted or rare rank. Only a few high-ranking nobles offered divine rank treasures, not wanting their reputations to seem lesser than that of the Drakethorne family. Among them was Malrec Veilcaster, the younger brother of the Veilcaster grand ducal patriarch.

  Malrec Veilcaster approached the throne with a reserved demeanor, formally presenting the divine rank ring to Alex Drakethorne. The silver ring, adorned with intricate patterns, radiated an air of mystery as Malrec handed it over, his expression carefully controlled.

  Malrec Veilcaster had not wished to offer a divine rank gift. However, his older brother, the patriarch of Veilcaster, had been a close friend of Shane Drakethorne since their youth. Reluctantly, Malrec complied with his brother’s wishes.

  The Patriarch of Veilcaster's grand ducal house was busy; if not, he himself would have come to give this gift.

  The other two grand ducal houses were absent. Drakethorne maintained a strong relationship with Chronveil, which made Chronveil’s absence particularly surprising. The final house had developed strained relations with Drakethorne in recent years, so their absence was expected. Shane Drakethorne had not invited them.

  Malrec Veilcaster glanced at Shane Drakethorne, who stood ever vigilant and ready for anything. As he descended the stairs to join the banquet and his old companions, Malrec grumbled to himself, “Tch, lucky bastard.” He resented how his brother insisted on maintaining a close relationship with the Drakethorne family.

  Shane Drakethorne watched Malrec Veilcaster’s retreating figure as he descended the stairs. He could sense Malrec’s displeasure at having to give a divine rank treasure to a Drakethorne child. Shane knew Malrec to be cold and ruthless, a man who favored only his own family and harbored resentment toward all others.

  Shane's gaze lingered on Malrec. He remembered how unchanging Malrec had always been and thought to himself, 'You are just like back then, Malrec.' Shane sighed softly, resigning himself to the likelihood that Malrec would never change.

  The gift ceremony continued, with many guests offering treasures that ranged from enchanted to rare.

  Ragnar Drakethorne mingled with old friends and familiar nobles, greeting each with a firm handshake or a nod. Nyra Blackheart remained at his side, slipping her arm through his and holding on gently as they moved together among the gathered guests.

  “You’re a lucky man, old friend. Your wife still looks at you with so much love. Just look at her eyes,” one of the veterans called out, nudging his companions to observe the affectionate couple. He, too, had gifted Alex a divine rank treasure.

  Many of the veterans who came with Ragnar Drakethorne had given divine rank treasures to Alex Drakethorne.

  “Quiet, old man. I’m younger than you,” Ragnar Drakethorne replied with a laugh.

  After listening for a while, Nyra Blackheart excused herself and walked away. The discussion about borders and politics held little interest for her.

  Nyra Blackheart searched the crowd for old friends but found none. She considered returning to Ragnar’s side.

  Once everyone had presented their gifts to Alex Drakethorne, Sera Azurestorm lifted her son from the throne, preparing to take him to his private chambers to rest.

  When a magic portal unexpectedly opened in the banquet hall, Shane Drakethorne reacted immediately. He drew Darkred, his sword, from his dimensional space and moved to protect Sera Azurestorm and her son.

  Darkred hummed in Shane’s hand as it felt the resolve of its master.

  At the same moment, below the terrace in the banquet hall, Nyra Blackheart drew her wand, and Ragnar Drakethorne unsheathed the sword from his scabbard.

  All the veterans who had arrived with Ragnar quickly took up their positions. Some gripped wands, others brandished swords, while the rest readied daggers, shields, gauntlets, or spears.

  The portal shifted to a violet hue. Its small size indicated it was a transportation portal that had just been activated.

  All the nobles quickly stepped back, wondering who would dare to intrude upon Drakethorne Palace. Three paragon-rank warriors—Shane, Nyra, and Ragnar—were present, and their formidable troops guarded the palace.

  Malrec stood in a rear corner, visibly frustrated at being unable to enjoy his wine. The banquet had been interrupted again and again, each disturbance disrupting his attempts at relaxation.

  Just as Malrec would find himself enjoying the wine and forgetting the things that were paining him, someone would come to disturb this banquet.

  A woman with violet hair and obsidian eyes stepped out of the portal. She appeared to be in her thirties, though the pallor of her aged, lusterless skin was evident. Her half-lidded eyes and the blood she coughed up spoke of her frailty. At her side stood a young woman in her twenties who supported her. Their faces and identically colored hair marked them as family.

  Everyone recognized them instantly by their purple hair, a shade unique to the Chronveil family. After all, who else would dare to open a portal in the very center of the banquet hall?

  Nyra Blackheart quickly stowed her wand in her dimensional space and hurried to Morgana Chronveil, realizing that Morgana was struggling to remain standing in the center of the hall.

  “Mother, we should go back now. You’re not well. We can return another time,” said the young woman supporting Morgana. Her name was Sophia Chronveil. She had fair skin, short purple hair, and a strong, curvaceous build. Her black eyes fixed her mother with a stern look.