CHAPTER 83: CHAPTER 82. POWERFUL ALPHAS

City of Gorhal, the Beastman Territory

Unlike Serathis, the capital of the Erengard Empire, Gorhal’s stone spires pierce the heavens in a symmetrical manner. Gorhal, heart of the Fenclade Dominion, the beastman dominion. It’s not a city built from stone alone, but one that breathes, grows, and pulses with the soul of its people and the land itself.

Golden sandstone structures rise proudly from the emerald canopy, their domes glinting beneath the sun like scales of some slumbering titan. Rivers of crystalline blue wind through the city’s veins, cradling the lush gardens and broad walkways that bind its many districts together. Bridges of pale stone arch gracefully over the waters, each etched with runic carvings depicting the ancient beasts and totems of the Dominion’s tribes.

From above, Gorhal appears as a perfect harmony of wilderness and civilization, a vast sprawl of green and gold where every courtyard brims with life. The scent of wild blossoms and spice drifts through the air, mingling with the distant rhythm of drums and song that never ceases, day or night.

Yet despite its beauty, Gorhal isn’t gentle. Its majesty is born of strength. The architecture itself bears marks of primal reverence, massive columns carved into fanged maws, clawed reliefs clutching up toward the sky, and statues of beast-kings that seem almost alive under the sun’s glare.

"Wow..." Vivianne breathed as they passed through the gate. The guards had already been informed of their arrival, it didn’t take long for them to let them pass. And Roxanne has been exuding her alpha dominance a few meters back before the gate.

Roxanne glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You like cities like this?"

Vivianne’s gaze swept across the living expanse before her, streets lined with flowering trees, rivers flowing beautifully beneath carved stone bridges, and tall halls woven with vines and gold. "It’s beautiful," she murmured. "Different from the Empire... it feels more—alive."

With a soft flutter of wings, Terranova drifted into view, her small dragon form circling Vivianne playfully before hovering at eye level. "That’s because the beastmen are a race closer to us, the spirits," she said, her voice smooth and melodic. "They live with the world, not against it."

"Open your eyes, my master," Terranova murmured again, her voice soft as the wind through leaves. A knowing smile curved her lips. "Truly look around... We are all around you." Vivianne blinked at Terranova’s words, and then she saw it.

At first, it’s only a shimmer in the air, like dust caught in sunlight. But as her focus deepened, the shimmer took form. Tiny lights fluttered all around her, their translucent wings catching the hues of emerald and gold. They drifted between the streets, gliding over rivers, brushing past the flowering trees.

Her breath caught, the spirits are everywhere. Small ones like glowing butterflies wove around her hair, perching curiously on her shoulders and reins. Others, wisps of mist and stone, slid beside the horses, their faint hums echoing through the air.

One of the larger spirits, shaped like a stag woven from roots and moss, bent its head as their carriage passed, its golden eyes reflecting her awe. And farther beyond, she caught a glimpse of an enormous figure, an earth spirit so vast it seemed to merge with the city itself, watching her silently from behind a temple of vines and marble.

Even Roxanne’s eyes widened, her usual calm breaking into open astonishment. Marvessa is utterly speechless, her lips parted but no sound coming out. "It was the best decision in my life to take you as master." She said to Vivianne.

The Borgia knights who followed them could only look on with a mix of frustration and envy; the veil of the spirit realm remained closed to them, its beauty reserved for their lord, her wife, and Marvessa, the Grand Duchess’ personal guard.

Vivianne could feel it all, the warmth that seeped into her skin and the steady breath of unseen beings that pulsed with the rhythm of the earth itself. Their joy was subtle but alive, a quiet hum that resonated in her chest and through her mana, weaving invisible threads between her heart and theirs.

Marvessa exhaled sharply, flicking her fingers. A faint glimmer of magic pulsed through the air. "Five minutes," she muttered. "That’s all you can have. Enjoy it while it lasts."

The knights gasped as the world shifted before their eyes. What was once empty space now shimmered with life, dozens, hundreds of spirits in all shapes and sizes drifting through the streets of Gorhal. Some perched on rooftops made of carved amberstone, others flowed through the rivers like liquid light.

"Oh, I’m so going to tell Mara about this," one of the knights whispered, his voice filled with childlike awe.

Maxim only nodded, his eyes reflecting the glow of the spirits. "She won’t believe it," he murmured, never looking away from the magnificent sight, the living heartbeat of Gorhal revealed before them.

-

The Fanclade Dominion Royal Palace

Leonhart smirked, the sharp glint of his fangs catching the light as he spoke with his cousin. "Your lord is quite the magnificent creature," he said through gritted teeth, his tone caught somewhere between admiration and challenge.

Mara didn’t even look up at first, more focused on the roasted meat before her. "How so?" she asked casually, slicing into her meal with unbothered ease.

"I can feel her alpha dominance from here," Leonhart said, leaning back in his chair with a low chuckle. "No wonder you’re submitting to her." His amber eyes gleamed, half-mocking, half-intrigued.

Mara finally looked up, unfazed. "That, and not everyone in this dominion would accept mixed blood," she replied, her voice calm but edged.

Leonhart’s grin widened, sharp and wolfish. "Not everyone can cross those cursed forests and mountains and come out alive either, like your mother," he said, voice low and needling. "And yet, your lord’s envoy arrived unharmed, untouched. Not even a scratch." His tone shifted as curiosity began to seep through his pride, a flicker of genuine intrigue in his eyes.

He had expected half of Roxanne’s envoy to arrive exhausted, wounded, or dying. The path to Gorhal is a really harsh road, it’s a place that devoured the unworthy. Yet here they are, alive and strong. Leonhart knew the strength of mixed blood firsthand; after all, he had spent days sparring with Mara, and even as a beta, she’d nearly stripped him of his pride.

Mara smirked, setting down her knife with deliberate slowness. "News travels fast, I see. That would be our lord’s wife’s doing."

Leonhart arched a brow, leaning forward. "Your lord’s wife?"

"Mm," Mara hummed, unbothered by his tone. She leaned back, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips. "You’ll see soon enough," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement.

"Do you think I can win against your lord?" Leonhart asked suddenly, his tone shifting from amusement to something far heavier. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago faded, leaving only the faint clink of metal as he set down his cup. His golden eyes gleamed with challenge.

Mara leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady as she studied him. "You’re strong, Leonhart. Very strong. The strongest of the beastmen—that’s why you’re king, aren’t you?" she said at last, her voice calm as she raised her goblet and took a slow sip of wine.

Leonhart’s brow furrowed. "But?"

Mara met his gaze, unflinching. "But you’re not my lord."

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut through steel. Then Leonhart’s lips curled into a wide grin, and his booming laughter echoed through the grand dining hall. "Rude," he said, standing from his seat.

Still chuckling, he reached for the great fur-lined cloak draped over his chair. "Well then," he said, voice filled with anticipation, "let’s not keep your lord waiting."

He pushed open the heavy doors, his roar shaking the air. "Let’s go greet the Borgia’s envoy!"

The Borgia envoy rode straight through the heart of Gorhal, their arrival already announced by the palace guards. As the great bronze doors of the throne hall swung open, the heavy scent of earth, fur, and steel filled the air.

Inside, King Leonhart Fenclade sat upon his throne, broad-shouldered, fierce, and proud. Behind him stood his two younger sisters: one, a graceful omega with eyes like amber flame; the other, an alpha whose mere stance radiated strength.

Mara was already waiting by the door, her posture straight, her expression unreadable. Around them, the Beastman Council watched in silence, knowing today isn’t a diplomatic visit, today, an alpha had come to challenge their king.

The moment the doors opened fully, a wave of dominant energy rolled through the hall like thunder. Every beastman stiffened. Even Leonhart’s grin faltered as he clenched his fist, feeling the raw pressure in the air. Yet his eyes gleamed with excitement.

Through the door stepped Roxanne de Borgia, tall, poised, her black hair glinting like obsidian, her crimson eyes showing her demonic lineage. Though slender and looking fragile by beastman standards, her aura commanded submission. The ground itself seemed to tremble around her.

Beside her walked Vivianne, radiant and calm, her white hair shimmering faintly and her violet eyes, the mark of a Spirit Bearer. Even among beastmen, white fur and violet eyes were sacred, for they meant communion with spirits, though none of their kind had ever held mana strong enough to bond with one.

Leonhart’s smirk returned. "A spirit bearer," he said, his deep voice echoing across the chamber. "How rare for a werewolf’s race."

Roxanne smiled slightly, her tone neither submissive nor arrogant. "Greetings to you, King Leonhart Fenclade."

"Welcome to my dominion, Grand Duke," he replied, stepping down from his throne. When he took her hand, the air thickened with power, two powerful alphas meeting not just in courtesy but in dominance. Neither yielded, and the entire hall held its breath.