Ancestral Lineage

Chapter 191 Night With The Wives. Elaine's Fear. (No R18)...

Two figures stepped into the entrance of the grand hall, their presence oppressive, their very aura soaked in blood and killing intent. One had long, braided gray hair, his expression unreadable, while the other had wine-colored hair tied in a sleek ponytail, his eyes dark and brooding.

Jerry and Reginald entered with measured strides, their faces devoid of emotion, yet the weight of what they had done clung to them like a thick shroud. The room fell into a tense silence, all eyes fixed on the two men as they approached Ethan.

'How was it?' Ethan's voice rang through their minds, calm yet sharp.

'Successful, but...' Jerry's voice carried a rare hint of hesitation.

'More than seventy-five percent are dead,' Reginald added grimly. 'Men, women, children... even the elderly. None were spared.'

Ethan's jaw tightened. His fists clenched at his sides as he processed their words. The sheer devastation they spoke of sent a wave of frustration crashing over him. It wasn't just about numbers—it was lives, families, legacies, entire bloodlines erased in a single night. Orphans left to wander a broken world, widows and widowers mourning in agony. The weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders.

He gave them a curt nod before turning to face the silent congregation.

"This ceremony, though necessary, is now meaningless," Ethan stated, his voice carrying across the hall like a thunderclap. "I have nothing more to say here. The elder responsible for Elaine's treatment will be dealt with in due time. For now, prepare for war."

His golden eyes burned with an ancient fury as he continued, his voice growing colder.

"The Blade Clan will be erased from existence. They will cease to be. That is the will of your Patriarch. The will of your origin and ancestor. That is my will."

A suffocating stillness gripped the hall as if the very air had turned to iron.

"The council of elders and the family heads will gather every resource, every warrior, every last ounce of strength for this war. No one will escape. Not a single one of them." His words struck like a hammer against stone, final and absolute.

"I will not allow another city to fall."

His gaze swept over them, his anger so controlled yet so intense that the very air around him began to heat up. A suffocating pressure filled the hall, pressing against the bodies of those present. Some trembled, their breathing ragged. Others outright collapsed, unable to withstand the sheer force of his presence.

Even the ancient beasts, once a pressing concern, had been entirely forgotten. Ethan's rage overshadowed everything. It burned hotter than any threat, sharper than any blade.

And soon... it would consume those who had dared to provoke him.

'Patriarch. Please keep calm.'

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Elaine's voice echoed through Ethan's mind like a gentle breeze against raging flames. It carried an inexplicable weight, yet it was soothing—soothing beyond reason. His fury, which had been on the verge of erupting like an unstoppable storm, was suddenly caged, suppressed into something distant and dull. The fire still smoldered within him, but it was shackled, as if anger had simply become... too much of a bother.

'Is that your power?' he asked, his mind momentarily detached from his wrath.

'It's part of it, yes,' she admitted. 'That is my Sin. The Sin of Sloth. It makes up ninety percent of me.'

'Cool.'

'It's a curse. Because of this, I...'

"Elaine." His voice cut through her self-deprecation like a blade. 'Don't ever say that again. I should have arrived earlier, and for that, I am sorry. But this—this is not a curse. This is you. And I will make sure you see it as the blessing it truly is.'

A rare gentleness settled into his features as he stepped forward. Then, without hesitation, he knelt before her. His hands, usually accustomed to destruction, were careful as they cupped her face. A silent command of telekinesis parted the messy strands of hair that obscured her features.

And there she was.

A face both beautiful and broken. Dull golden eyes that still burned with intensity—mirroring his own. Shadows clung beneath her eyes, signs of exhaustion she had endured alone. Her lips, dark and full, pressed into a quiet line. A delicate nose. A striking black symbol was carved into her right cheek. And peeking through her unkempt hair—sharp, furry ears, betraying a beast-like heritage.

Elaine was breathtaking, even in her current state—worn, scarred, and covered in dirt.

Ethan's lips curved into a warm, genuine smile. Without a word, he let the strands of hair fall back into place, shielding her face from the world once more. Then, without hesitation and without waiting for permission, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly into a princess carry.

Gasps erupted from the hall, shock rippling through the gathered crowd. Elders, warriors, and nobles alike could only stare, frozen in disbelief.

Ethan paid them no mind. His golden eyes swept across the room with finality.

"This ceremony is over," he declared, his tone brooking no argument. "Go. Prepare for war."

Then, his gaze flickered to his wives-to-be—Clara, Carmen, Harley, and the others—silent yet commanding.

'Let's go. She needs us. Christel, you too.' His telepathic voice carried through their minds.

And with that, he turned and walked away, carrying Elaine as if she weighed nothing as if she were something infinitely precious.

...

Angitia and Galeno stood side by side, their massive forms towering over the grounds of the Smith Clan stronghold. Their sheer size cast long, looming shadows as they observed the figures stepping out of a massive silvery-blue portal. The air crackled with residual energy, and the stronghold, once a place of rigid order, now buzzed with the arrival of refugees and survivors from Veryan City.

Hovering effortlessly between the two beasts, Ethan sat cross-legged in the air, his aura restrained, his presence still overwhelming. His black horns shimmered faintly, the golden tips pulsing like dying embers. His golden eyes flickered slightly as his thoughts drifted.

'Master... when will you go for them?' Angitia's soft voice curled through his mind, laced with something he had been avoiding for too long.

'Soon, Angi. Very soon,' Ethan replied, his mental tone unwavering. 'I can't fight at full power without them, so it will be necessary to go for them.'

"Geez! Relax, honey," Ethan raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Better."

"Anyway, where's Andriel? And the others?"

"They should be here any—oh, here they are," Lisa (Pisces) said as the bedroom door creaked open.

Andriel entered first, her silver hair elegantly tied up, the moonlight glinting off its strands. Behind her, Christel and Elaine followed their hesitant steps carrying them into the room. The soft glow of moonlight bathed their figures, enhancing their beauty in a way that made Ethan's breath hitch. His golden eyes widened slightly, and before he could stop himself, he muttered under his breath—

"Beautiful..."

Christel, standing in the doorway, turned crimson. Her body tensed as she hesitantly clasped her hands together. Then, after a deep breath, she blurted out in a shaky voice—

"A-Are y-you going to... t-take me tonight?"

Silence filled the room.

Ethan blinked, confused. "Eh? What are you talking about?"

Christel looked even more flustered. "I-I mean... s-s-se..."

Realization dawned. "Oh, that... I won't."

"Why?"

Ethan sat up slightly, his expression serious. "Because I'm not a rapist. Or an abuser."

"Then... why did you call me?"

"Just get in the bed."

"O-Okay..."

"Cute," he murmured, shaking his head with a small smile.

Then, another voice echoed in his mind.

'Me too?'

Elaine.

'Yes.'

'I'm... scared.'

'I don't bite. None of us do.'

Lisa sighed, pinching Ethan's thigh. "That's not what she meant, darling."

Ethan winced slightly before refocusing.

'I know, Elaine, but can't you feel it? Our connection? Do you really think I would hurt you?'

'I know but...'

'You're exhausted, aren't you? You've been tired for decades. No real rest, no peace.'

Elaine's mental voice faltered. 'I...'

'Elaine... I know affection is almost foreign to you, but just trust me this once, okay? Even a little bit. Come over.' Ethan's voice was gentle yet firm.

'I... I can try...'

Slowly, Elaine stepped forward, her long green hair flowing behind her. Her body, though now healthy, still carried signs of wear. Her skin, glossy pale, reflected the faint glow of the moonlight. Though her golden eyes remained dull with exhaustion, there was an unmistakable energy in her presence—something that had been missing before.

As she neared the bed, Ethan didn't wait. With a flick of his fingers, he used telekinesis to lift her gently, guiding her into his embrace. Her body settled against him, soft and warm. Instinctively, he cradled her, pulling her close as Andriel slid into bed beside them.

The room fell into a peaceful silence, filled only with the soft shuffling of sheets and the quiet sound of breathing.

Christel, who had distanced herself slightly, watched the scene in wonder. She had expected something entirely different—that Ethan would take advantage of her or demand something in return. But here he was, holding Elaine in a way that was nothing but protective, making sure she felt safe.

It didn't make sense to her.

As time passed, a faint sound filled the room. A soft, rhythmic breathing.

Elaine had fallen asleep.

And nestled against her, Ethan had too.