CHAPTER 76: ARRIVAL OF MELIRA

[: 3rd POV :]

Xerath’s voice cut through the warm hum of conversation with a mix of sincerity and pride. "I heard what the Kaelgor had said earlier, and I must say, I feel exactly the same way’’

’’I can’t fully express the depth of the debt I owe you, Caelira, for looking out for this little idiot and rebellious son of mine."

A soft chuckle escaped from Lilith behind him, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the affectionate yet exasperated tone.

Kiel’s cheeks flushed bright red, and with a sharp retort, he shot back, "I’m not an idiot!"

Laughter erupted from all around them, the tension of recent worries momentarily melting away in shared mirth.

Caelira, a gentle smile gracing her lips, shook her head fondly.

"You may not be an idiot, but you do have a stubborn streak that’s hard to tame."

Lilith stepped forward, joining Caelira and Selena in a comforting embrace.

"Caelira, my husband has promised to speak with the Empress herself and seek her cooperation to find this cute boy, Daniel—my son’s first true friend in who knows how long."

Her words carried warmth and solidarity, a rare beacon of hope in the swirling uncertainty surrounding Daniel’s disappearance.

For a moment, the women shared a quiet nod, an unspoken pact among rulers and mothers alike.

As the evening progressed, their conversation shifted toward matters of state—politics, the shifting tides of power on their continents, and the delicate threads of alliances they sought to weave.

The air was thick with the gravity of leadership, but tempered by moments of shared understanding and counsel.

Meanwhile, Rika stood alongside her three elder brothers—Torren, Vaelen, and Draven—who had joined the discussion with Aeriwen, Manork, and Kiel.

Their faces were serious, etched with determination.

"We owe Daniel more than words can say," Torren said quietly, his deep voice steady.

"He saved Rika, and that means everything to us."

Vaelen nodded.

"We want to find him. Not just to thank him, but to form a brotherly bond—he’s family now."

Draven added, "Whatever it takes, we’ll do it. Daniel deserves that much."

Aeriwen’s gaze was fierce yet hopeful.

Their resolve resonated, a shared mission binding them in purpose.

Their gathering did not go unnoticed.

Whispers and glances fluttered across the hall as nobles, rulers, and dignitaries alike observed the rare sight of three powerful rulers and their imperial families engaged in earnest conversation.

The spectacle was unusual—a convergence of might and empathy rarely seen in such public harmony.

Judging by their expressions—open, engaged, and at ease—it was clear these leaders were not just allies, but friends united by a common cause.

The murmurs rippled through the crowd, a hopeful undercurrent in an evening marked by both celebration and quiet anxiety.

On the other hand, the leader of the Black Pirates stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief as his gaze locked onto the gathering of rulers and their families.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow, his heart pounding as the horrifying realisation dawned upon him.

"Isn’t... that... the slaves... the ones I sold to the Ashburn Family?"

His voice cracked, barely above a whisper but thick with dread.

He couldn’t erase their faces from his mind—once mere ’products’ delivered by the clandestine Zero Organisation, their identities nothing more than whispered transactions in the shadows.

Yet now, they stood before him—not commodities, but crowned royalty and powerful rulers.

"What are they doing here?!" Panic rose, tightening his throat as the crushing weight of his crime pressed down on him.

He staggered backwards, breath ragged.

"D-Don’t tell me... T-They’re the missing Empress, the prince, and the princess...!?"

The horrifying truth sent a jolt through his very being, a mixture of fear, guilt, and desperation swirling inside.

His mind raced. He wanted to flee, to vanish into the crowd and erase this nightmare.

But he needed someone—someone responsible.

"W-Where is Velroth?!" he gasped, eyes darting frantically across the room.

Frantically searching, he realised Velroth was nowhere near the spot—too engrossed in conversation with other noble families, oblivious to the disaster unfolding right before them.

"He hasn’t noticed them... or maybe he doesn’t even remember their faces," the pirate muttered bitterly.

His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, the weight of his betrayal suffocating.

"This is worse than I thought. If they find out I sold them... I’m finished."

Around him, the festive atmosphere of the grand hall contrasted starkly with the turmoil raging inside him.

The once-confident merchant was now a man caught in the tightening noose of his own deeds, the consequences inching ever closer.

The Black Pirate’s face twisted in raw frustration and panic.

"Fuck him! I’ll escape by myself!" he spat under his breath, his voice barely masked by the hum of the grand hall.

The pressure of the situation was unbearable — if anyone recognised him, his fate was sealed.

Without a second thought, he made a desperate dash toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with a wild urgency.

But as he neared the grand entrance, a chilling sight stopped him cold.

A squad of knights stood like statues, their armour gleaming under the chandeliers.

Among them, the Twilight Knights — the Empress’s elite guard — formed an unyielding wall of discipline and authority.

Their cold, unwavering gazes bore down on him, cutting off any chance of a quiet escape.

"Halt!" The commanding voice of the Twilight Knights rang out, heavy with authority.

"Her Majesty is arriving any second now. Who do you think you are to leave in her presence? Are you prepared to face the consequences of such insolence?"

The Black Pirate skidded to a halt, his breath hitching, his heart pounding in his chest like a frantic drum.

"I-I apologise," he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of fear.

The words tasted bitter as he turned back, defeated, his steps slow and heavy.

He couldn’t risk a scene here — not now.

As he retraced his path through the glittering crowd, a cold doubt gnawed at him.

’Why were the slaves I sold... imperial families?’

The thought was a knife twisting in his gut.

If the truth ever came out — if even a whisper of this got back to the Empress or any of the great houses — he wouldn’t just lose his position.

He’d lose everything.

He had already begun plotting an escape, a flight to the farthest corners where no one would know his name or seek him out.

He would abandon his identity, his power, everything, just to survive.

As the sounds of the grand hall swirled around him, he prayed silently, his voice barely audible.

"Please... let me slip away unnoticed. Let no one recognise me. Let me vanish into the shadows before the storm breaks."

A deep, resonant voice echoed throughout the grand hall, silencing the murmurs and drawing every eye to the massive, ornate doors at the far end of the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, nobles and honoured guests from across the continents," the herald proclaimed, his voice steady and filled with reverence.

"It is with the utmost respect and solemnity that we announce the arrival of Her Majesty, Melira Valenhardt—the Empress and sovereign ruler of the Human Continent."

A hush swept over the crowd as the doors slowly began to creak open, revealing a radiant silhouette bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers.

The grand hall fell into a reverent hush as the heavy doors swung open, and all eyes turned toward the entrance.

A delicate yet commanding presence stepped through—the radiant figure of Her Majesty, Melira Valenhardt.

Time seemed to slow as she moved forward, each step measured and graceful, embodying the very essence of sovereignty and poise.

Her silvery-white hair cascaded like a shimmering waterfall down her back, catching the light with an ethereal glow that seemed almost otherworldly.

Interwoven strands of violet glimmered subtly among the silken locks, hinting at the mysterious power that pulsed beneath her serene exterior.

Her eyes, deep pools of amethyst violet, held a piercing clarity—wise yet compassionate, fierce yet inviting.

They seemed to see through the veils of the world, commanding respect without uttering a single word.

Her gown was a masterpiece of regal design—flowing robes of midnight blue and silver embroidery that mirrored the constellations above.

The fabric clung gently to her slender frame, accentuating her dignified posture while hinting at the delicate strength beneath.

Adorned with jewels that sparkled like starlight, her attire was both a testament to her authority and an expression of timeless beauty.

As she glided forward, the breath of every man in the hall caught in their throats.

Whispers fluttered like a gentle breeze—words of awe, disbelief, and quiet admiration.

Behind her, the elite guard fell into perfect formation—the Twilight Knights and the Sacred Valkyries, clad in their gleaming armour and sacred silks.

Their watchful eyes never wavered, protecting their sovereign as she made her way across the grand entrance hall.

The air seemed to shimmer with a subtle magic, a palpable aura of power and grace that surrounded her as she ascended to the second floor, ready to preside over the evening’s historic gathering.