"Ezekiel," Vahn commanded with newfound authority. "You have proved your loyalty. You will now be the Chancellor of the Necrotic Dynasty. Your first task is to secure the surrounding area and bring the local clans under our banner."

"But before that, you need to become stronger. Far stronger than you're now."

After saying that, Vahn poured out many Saint and Heaven grade resources that could transform any talentless weep to a Core disciple prodigy.

Ezekiel's life had transformed completely.

___________

"Clan Leader, we're sorry," reported a guard, looking primitive in his rough furs, to an imposing man wearing slightly higher-quality fabrics.

"We didn't find any trace of Young Master Ezekiel past the Ice Bear's territory. Even Master Gord, our best tracker, couldn't sense any spiritual trace. He said the Young Master's aura was last felt in the Sky."

​The Clan Leader of Exelcrest furrowed his brows deeply upon hearing the news.

​"Even Master Gord couldn't find my Son..." he muttered, confusion evident in his voice. "So, it can't be those Barbarians' work. It's someone who could fly. But there is no one in Oslan capable of flight. So, who could it be?"

​His wife broke into tears, distraught over the presumed death of her son.

​But just then, Ezekiel's brothers and cousins burst into the courtyard with mocking laughter, showing no sympathy whatsoever.

​

​"Why the long faces, Mother, Father?" sneered Cyril, Ezekiel's eldest brother, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Perhaps that fool finally got himself eaten by a Glacier Bear, saving us the trouble of dealing with his incompetence."

​"That idiot never could hunt properly," scoffed another cousin, Rolan. "Now Uncle can finally focus his resources on those of us who actually have potential!"

​The Clan Leader glared at his family, his grief momentarily turning to fury. "Silence! He is still my son!"

​Cyril merely shrugged with a practiced nonchalance that showed his true ambition.

"He was weak, Father. The Clan needs strength, not sentiment. His disappearance is a boon for the rest of us."

But just then, a sudden chill rippled through the courtyard as sprinkles of frost gathered in the air.

Then a silhouette appeared like a phantom, coalescing from drifting ice mist.

"Ezekiel?!"

Ezekiel stood there, with calm and casual smile forming on his lips as if he had merely taken a short stroll.

"Miss me, dear brothers?" he said mockingly.

His mother's tearful gasp echoed, "Ezekiel... my child..."

Cyril froze. "You... you survived? Impossible. You could barely bring down a snow hare last week."

Ezekiel tilted his head, looking at his "dear" older brother. "That was the old me. Weak, mocked, kicked aside like useless snow. Do not worry. I remember every word and every boot that struck me."

Rolan snorted, showing bravado. "So you crawled back? What, did a lonely spirit take pity on you?"

Hearing him, a cold gleam passed through Ezekiel's eyes.

"No pity. Only power."

Before Rolan could speak again, Ezekiel vanished in a blur of icy mist. "Whoosh.."

"Slap!"

A heavy slap of condensed frost struck Rolan's face, sending him skidding across the courtyard tiles, breath freezing in the air.

A cousin stammered, "H-how are you so fast?"

Ezekiel appeared behind him. "Ice Flow Step. You always sneered when I failed to learn it."

Bam!

A palm of crystalline frost struck the cousin's spine, knocking him unconscious in a single blow.

"Damn!" Cyril roared and lunged forward, aura flaring. "Do not get arrogant!"

Ezekiel smiled lightly. "I am not arrogant, big brother. I am merely done kneeling."

He lifted his hand, forming a translucent blue sphere. Frost bloomed beneath his feet.

"Ice Lotus Burst."

The freezing explosion knocked Cyril backward.

He crashed into a pillar and slumped, blood trickling, breath trembling. The stunned cousins stared, unable to comprehend.

"Ezekiel, You were a trash. But how did you suddenly turn into a monster?" Cyril spat, his eyes wide with hate and fear.

Ezekiel walked toward him at an unhurried pace. "I learned what trash becomes when it refuses to stay trampled."

Two uncles leaped in, spiritual force blazing. "Stop this madness, boy. You dare raise your hand against your elders?"

Swoosh, swoosh..

Ezekiel flicked his wrist. Ice whips spiraled outward like serpents, binding them and slamming both to the ground.

"Respect is not given, uncles. It is earned. You taught me that."

The courtyard fell silent except for the crackling frost.

The Clan Leader stood frozen, stunned speechless as his son stood amidst fallen family, robes dusted with glimmering snowflakes, eyes like winter stars.

Cyril coughed, "Father... do something... he has gone mad..."

Ezekiel turned to the Clan Leader, expression calm even in victory.

"Father. You always looked upon me with disappointment. Yet now you see. I have changed. I am no longer the weakling you all dismissed."

The Clan leader swallowed hard, unable to speak.

Only then did everyone understand the truth that chilled them more than Ezekiel's frost.

Ezekiel had returned as someone they could neither belittle nor control.

He smiled, a serene and dangerous smile.

"From today onward, no one in this clan will ever put a foot on my neck again."

The Clan Leader stepped forward, pleading, "Spare them, Son. They're your relatives nonetheless. I intend to hand the Leader's position over to you anyway."

Ezekiel scoffed with disdain. "I don't want this Clan anymore, Father. I already have a place where I belong."

His father was stunned. "What do you mean by that, Son? Are you abandoning us after becoming powerful? But me and your mother never stopped caring about you."

"No. That's not it, Father. I serve My King now." His eyes shone with zealous worship. "He gave me this power. He gave me this new life."

The Clan Leader and the others looked genuinely intrigued. A King capable of strengthening a person to the Golden Core realm in a single week had to be extraordinary. If the Exelcrest Clan could somehow make a connection with this King, they might be free from the oppression of other powerful clans.

"Who is this King, My Son? Can you arrange a meeting between us?"

Ezekiel shook his head. He replied, "No. His Majesty is very busy. He can't come out to meet a mere low-tier Clan. But if the Exelcrest Clan wants to become a vassal of the Necrotic Dynasty, I can ask for it."

"A vassal? You mean all of us would have to obey his orders? How can you propose such an outrageous thing, Ezekiel? Our Clan bows to no one!" one of his uncles shouted, nursing a bruise.

Ezekiel snorted. "It's up to your choice. But know this: Once my King descends, no one can escape. He will conquer the whole of Oslan one day."

"Son, please calm down. Give us some time to make a decision. It's a great gamble. We need time," his father said, desperation in his voice.

"Do as you must, Father. But I want your answer by evening," Ezekiel replied, heading purposefully outside the Clan estate.

The Exelcrest Clan was left with a very difficult choice. If their gamble fails, they would suffer terribly. But if they win, the glory will surely be worth far more than loss.

What would they choose?

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