Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 413

Chapter 413: Party Time!

The restaurant was perched on the upper tier of the capital’s leisure district, a glowing hub built into one of the sleek, floating platforms that hovered above the cityscape. From the outside, it resembled a crystalline bloom, a dome of translucent alloy petals that opened slightly to let in the golden light of the artificial sun. Holographic koi swam lazily through the air around it, their scales shimmering like fractured starlight as they weaved between floating lanterns.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and alive. The floor was polished midnight glass, reflecting the soft lights strung like constellations above. Tables were arranged in curved clusters around a central open space, where a holographic waterfall cascaded downward into a shallow pool, its mist carrying a faint, sweet scent. The tables themselves were circular, made of smooth black stone with embedded panels that allowed diners to order, adjust the lighting, or pull up virtual screens for entertainment.

A live band played near the far wall, not with conventional instruments, but with floating resonance discs that pulsed in response to hand gestures, creating a gentle synth-jazz that blended with the murmur of conversation and laughter. The air carried the rich aroma of sizzling spices, sweet baked treats, and chilled fruit drinks, mingling into a heady, inviting fragrance.

Each booth was semi-enclosed with soft golden light, giving the feeling of privacy without cutting off the hum of the larger room. The windows, if they could be called that, were panoramic shields displaying the city below: streams of hover traffic glittering like ribbons, the amusement park lights flashing in the distance, and the neon spires of the entertainment district painting the horizon.

The place wasn’t just a restaurant; it was designed for celebration. A perfect blend of modern sci-fi luxury and casual ease, where laughter carried easily and time seemed to slow just enough for people to forget the weight of the world outside.

…

Regnare had arrived at the place with Rhask, both cloaked in subtle disguises. He had no intention of letting their evening be interrupted by curious onlookers or unwanted attention.

Regnare now appeared as a young man with short black hair, smooth dark skin, and pointed elf ears. His dragon horns and tail were carefully concealed beneath the illusion. Rhask, on the other hand, had kept it simple, tying his dreadlocks back neatly and slipping on a pair of glasses, giving him a far more laid-back appearance.

The two stepped through the warm glow of Lune et Vin, the soft scent of spiced wine and freshly baked bread greeting them. A quiet melody from a harp filled the air, mingling with the low murmur of evening diners.

Their reserved booth sat near a curved window, partially veiled by sheer silver curtains. Plush midnight-blue cushions lined the seats, and a dim lantern bathed the table in a soft golden hue; giving the space an intimate, almost magical warmth.

As they entered the booth, Regnare and Rhask were met by the wide-eyed stares of their companions. Ten pairs of dumbfounded eyes blinked back at them, as if seeing strangers instead of their own teammates.

To the left sat Yamal, the lieutenant of the team, second-in-command after Regnare. His crimson eyes were widened in shock as he looked at Rhask, uncaring for the usual composed image he portrayed. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves neatly folded up to his elbows, paired with matching black trousers and polished black shoes.

His short black hair was combed backwards, further emphasizing his vampiric beauty.

To his side was Darak, one of the dwarven twins. His towering and powerful figure was trembling with barely restrained emotions. He wore a green tank top, brown baggy trousers, and dark brown boots. His earth-veined tattoos glimmered under the dim light, accentuating his bulging muscles. His hair, as usual, was short, giving more view to his long curling horns.

His twin brother, Vorr, sat beside him, though he was calmer. His frame was slightly leaner than his brother’s. He wore a dark shirt with blue shorts and black sneakers.

To the right of Vorr sat Brayk, the third of the dwarves. Unlike his rowdy brethren, his posture was relaxed, but the faint molten glow that traced the lines of his tattoos betrayed the tension simmering beneath the surface. His skin held a deep bronze tone, almost like forged steel, and his crimson horns curved downward like a predator ready to strike. He wore a simple dark vest that revealed the glowing runes along his arms, and a pair of black trousers tucked into scorched leather boots. His molten-red eyes flicked up sharply the moment Rhask entered, not out of fear, but anticipation.

Opposite him lounged Nyarelle, her elegance as fluid as a midnight river. Her silver-white hair cascaded down her shoulders like threads of moonlight, catching the soft glow of the booth’s lamps. She wore a sleek black top with a high collar and light-fitting leather trousers that moved with her like a second skin. The faint shimmer of the moonstone clasp at her throat marked her heritage as a dark elf of lunar descent. Though she appeared calm, her amethyst eyes narrowed like blades, tracking every subtle shift in Rhask’s movements.

Beside her sat Kalev, his broad frame taking up more space than he likely realized. The neon-blue etchings along his cybernetic arms pulsed softly, contrasting with his sun-warmed skin. He wore a dark bomber jacket over a loose white shirt and fitted combat jeans. His boots, scuffed and worn, spoke of someone who lived for motion. Kalev had a lopsided grin, but even that faltered slightly as he leaned back, giving a low whistle at the sight of Rhask.

Further down the curve of the booth, leaning against the edge like a coiled shadow, was Maelis. Her short silver hair framed a pale, serene face, and the crimson-stitched blindfold over her eyes only seemed to heighten her quiet menace. She wore a sleeveless black top, bandages wrapping around her arms like a ritualistic design, and tight leather trousers tucked into knee-high boots. Though blind, her head tilted subtly in Rhask’s direction, as if she could taste the shift in the room.

Vekran sat beside her, casual as ever, one arm slung over the back of the seat. His midnight-red hair caught the warm light, making it seem like embers smoldered between strands. A smirk played at his lips, sharp and infuriatingly confident. His dark fitted shirt and black jeans gave him a predatory, effortless charm, the kind that preceded trouble. And yet, even he raised a brow at Rhask, the usual humor in his expression tempered by wariness.

Rounding the outer curve of the booth were the remaining dwarves, Toval and Grun.

Toval, lean and wiry compared to his kin, sat with his elbows on the table, tapping one foot restlessly. His storm-gray hair was tied back, exposing the crackling lightning scars that streaked down his forearms. He wore a sleeveless dark tunic and light boots, his presence carrying the wild tension of a thunderstorm before it breaks.

Grun, in contrast, was a mountain of a dwarf. His massive frame strained the edges of the seat, and the faint heat radiating off his forge-black armor made the air around him subtly warmer. His beard, thick and braided, glowed faintly at the tips like smoldering coals. Unlike the others, his reaction to Rhask wasn’t visible in facial expression, but in the way his heavy hands clenched atop the table.

The soft ambient glow of Lune et Vin gave the booth a muted intimacy, but their reactions shattered the ease. Twelve warriors, the Knights of the Dawn Cross, stared at Regnare and Rhask with a mix of shock, wariness, and questions unspoken. The booth, large and curved, was built with high velvet-backed seats, warm gold lighting overhead, and sound-dampening walls that gave the group privacy. A low glass table stretched between them, reflecting the faint light like a polished mirror.

And into this silence, the disguised Regnare and Rhask now stood, two figures carrying the weight of something none of them had expected to face tonight.

…

The silence that followed their arrival was louder than any battlefield roar Regnare had ever stood against.

He didn’t need to use his senses to feel the weight of every gaze fixed on them; the pressure pressed against his skin like a tangible force. They were all his people, not strangers, not enemies, and yet, their stares had that quiet edge of unease that came when something unknown walked into a room wearing a familiar face.

They’re startled… not afraid, Regnare noted, letting his eyes sweep the booth without moving his head. Good. Fear would’ve made this messier. Startle fades faster.

He adjusted the collar of his black shirt, fingers brushing over the cool fabric. Disguise or not, he could never quite erase the imperial steel in his posture; it was carved too deeply into his bones. Still, he’d hoped tonight would be easy. Just a simple night out, no formalities, no titles. But bringing the new Rhask… well, that was always going to stir something.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Creation is hard, cheer me up!

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