From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

Chapter 38: Chapter 37 Evolution of Runes (Thanks to the Alliance Leader for the reward!)

Consciousness was shrouded in darkness and chaos; he could see nothing, hear nothing.

Karl was about to sink back into slumber when he suddenly felt the familiar warmth of spirituality returning to him, accompanied by a man’s soul and the spiritual imprint of a purple crucifix rune.

In the dark space, Karl was like a boundless, colossal star while the man’s soul revolved around it like a tiny planet.

Lucius.

He couldn’t help but sigh as he gazed at the bewildered soul of the man and made a promise to it.

“Sleep, in the comfort of a fleeting dream, quietly await the moment of awakening that is yet to come.”

“One day, thou will awaken once more.”

Lucius’s perplexed soul fell into slumber, quietly awaiting the day of its revival.

Karl noticed as Lucius’s spirituality was absorbed by his own soul, the second seal at its deepest core had become significantly loose, signifying that the time to fully unravel it was close at hand.

He quickly realized something momentous.

Nourished by the soul and baptized by the dust of the mortal world, the purple crucifix rune “protect” evolved, changing from a cross shape into a grid-like shape to become a stronger spirit rune “Iron Wall.”

Compared to “protect,” which could only manifest a repelling force momentarily, the user of “Iron Wall” could maintain it indefinitely as long as they remained stationary.

Furthermore, “Iron Wall” had a range of nearly ten meters and could also protect multiple allies and objects that the user was aware of.

“So it is, the soul and the constant shedding of emotional energy in the mortal world can promote the evolution of runes to a new stage.”

He came to a realization and then bestowed the spiritual imprint of the “Iron Wall” spirit rune upon Chris.

Neither Irene nor Byrne’s soul capacity could bear a second spiritual imprint, leaving only young Chris as the recipient of “Iron Wall.”

Yet those who had merely received the blood of the favored clan were unable to secure the spiritual imprint of a rune through such a feeble connection.

Karl observed the predicament of the Nasir townsfolk during his short slumber and through the jar, he saw they were now in a makeshift military camp.

A military camp?

He pondered, unclear about where Irene took the transparent jar.

The next moment, Karl felt the unique essences of two matching components, instinctively becoming exhilarated.

Both now in Irene’s possession, alas, they were merely powerful components of a mysterious rare artifact, devoid of innate spiritual power.

He had reason to believe that the Meyer family held even more such components.

Unfortunately, the Meyer family was a colossus of the enemy Rhea Kingdom, and the Fischer family, with its current ant-like strength, couldn’t possibly shake it.

Inside the temporary camp, soldiers clad in black uniforms patrolled, trained, and worked with discipline; they belonged to the direct forces of Duke Black Iron, tasked with reinforcing Nasir Town and carrying out the search operation.

The Fischers and the other seventy or so people were now in two rather cramped large tents in the temporary camp, waiting with complex emotions for the next steps to be arranged.

Most of them felt a sense of relief, after all, they had been found by their own country’s military rather than falling into enemy hands.

However, Byrne and others who had lost relatives remained filled with unease, restlessness, and worry.

Byrne paced restlessly in the tent, gritting his teeth and getting up from time to time, longing for news of his father but dreading any information about him.

Contradiction, anxiety, restlessness, regret—all these emotions swirled around the depths of his heart.

Soon, a soldier came from outside the tent, surveying the civilians within.

“Which one is Byrne Fischer? The Duke has summoned you.”

“I’m here.”

Byrne instinctively raised his hand, and next to him, Irene, who was cradling Chris, blinked when she saw a purple glow emerge within Chris’s eyes.

The soldier looked toward the source of the voice and nodded: “You, come with me.”

The Duke, such an important figure wanting to see him, Byrne rose in a daze to follow the soldier out of the tent.

He entered the largest tent and saw a burly old man clad in black cotton, strong and with a military bearing in every movement, yet his skin was abnormally pale.

The old man sat behind a desk piled with documents, his sharp gaze like that of a shrewd and seasoned old griffon, constantly fixated on its prey, never relaxing its vigilance.

Byrne subconsciously felt tense, standing before a “Monarch” of Level 3, a pillar of the Cyart Kingdom, and a revered figure; even the Cyart King treated the stalwart Duke Black Iron with great respect.

A woman with short golden hair and glasses stood beside the old man.

She looked calm, dressed entirely in black, her skin pale and smooth, and a fluffy, snow leopard-like large tail behind her buttocks most eye-catching.

Duke Black Iron, without any superfluous words, asked coldly and directly,

“You are Byrne of the Fischer family, son of Lucius?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Byrne nodded, a bad premonition slowly rising from the depths of his heart.

Duke Black Iron stared into his eyes, his tone becoming grave,

“Your father bravely died in battle, desperately killing two knights and a dozen enemies, showing extreme valor amid the fight, a warrior, a role model, a paragon among the Cyart people. You, his only son, what reward do you seek?”

Byrne was momentarily unable to respond, hesitating for a long time as if confused by what he had heard.

The old man just sat there silently, waiting for him to come back to his senses.

“I wish…”

Byrne was silent for a long while, incessantly thinking how his father would have answered if he were here, and finally spoke in a somewhat hoarse voice,

“I wish the Fischer family could become a member of the Cyart aristocracy.”

Duke Black Iron shook his head decisively, his icy gaze piercing the overly greedy young man,

“Impossible, only the Cyart King can confer nobility. I can only make you a knight, and the Fischer family a knight clan nominally loyal to the Romann family.”

The Romann family was Duke Black Iron’s family, one of the top three prominent noble houses in the entire Cyart, whose colossal influence and status were second only to the Royal Family.

Byrne nodded with reddened eyes, showing a sorrowful smile, “That is enough, my lord. I am truly grateful for your mercy and generosity.”

Duke Black Iron nodded dispassionately, “All right, you may leave now.”

Without a chance to ask another question, Byrne was taken away by the soldiers, while Duke Black Iron lowered his head to continue his work, not sparing the young man another glance.

“Only eighteen years are left until the peace treaty between the two nations expires!”

The old man sighed and then fell silent, his eyes filled with deep wisdom as he pondered, “Whose handiwork was the so-called ‘divine sign’ those people encountered?”

On his way back to the tent, Byrne was completely dazed, his mind filled with memories of his father, recalling how light-heartedly he had said goodbye, claiming he was just going ahead to scout the road as he had done many times before.

He couldn’t comprehend why everything in the world was so absurdly wrong; that day turned out to be the last time he ever saw his father.

Suddenly, Byrne felt nauseous, but as he crouched down, the tears wouldn’t stop, he cried and retched continuously, nothing coming out since he hadn’t eaten anything.

It turns out, people can vomit from extreme grief.

He still remembered the words spoken by the black-armored knight with an arrogant tone,

“Your deaths are of little consequence. Hand over that artifact, and the Meyer family shall ascend to the highest throne of the Ouden Continent.”

The Meyer family!

That might be a noble house in the Rhea Kingdom, not inferior to the Romann family, extending for hundreds or even thousands of years, a terrifying behemoth that Fischer family now cannot shake.

Kneeling on the ground, Byrne clenched his fists so tightly his skin broke and bled, and he roared in a low voice,

“Father! The Fischer family will remember all the hatred! I swear to the Lord of the Lost, I will avenge you, and one day, we shall repay everything with the blood and tears of the Meyer family!”

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