Raven meticulously checked and rechecked every detail. If anything went wrong because of her carelessness, she doubted her father would ever let her hear the end of it—especially after she had already disrupted his plans out of spite.

  Though it was a little late, the invitations were finally sent out a week before the party. It didn’t leave much time for the guests to prepare, but it certainly stirred the wealthy circles of Ether City. Raven, however, had her hands tied. There wasn’t much she could do except contact all the top brands and boutiques, urging them to prioritize the invited guests.

  After much contemplation (and a fair amount of stress), the theme was settled: Ebon Zephyr: Winds of Power. The concept blended elegance with mystery, strength, and dominance, with the wind element subtly woven into every detail. Raven and her father would wear black—bold, refined, and entirely unique in a world where such dark colors were practically taboo. Their attire would symbolize their mastery over the wind and their defiance of conventional expectations. Raven’s dress was designed to flow like a breeze, its delicate fabric embodying both grace and strength. Her father’s outfit was also black, evoking the steady, unshakable presence of a storm—calm yet intense, a reflection of the wind’s power.

  On the day of the banquet, Raven stood before the large full-length mirror, the soft hum of the air purifier in the background. The room was spacious, minimalist in design, with sleek furniture and warm ambient lighting—quietly elegant, just as it should be for the occasion.

  A servant entered quietly, holding a black dress in her hands. It was simple, with clean lines and a high collar, the fabric smooth to the touch. Raven nodded for her to help her put it on. The servant gently pulled the dress over Raven’s head, smoothing out any wrinkles as it settled on her small frame.

  Another servant stepped forward, brush in hand, and began to gather Raven’s long black hair, sweeping it into a high ponytail. The dark strands shimmered under the light as the servant worked with swift precision, pulling the hair back and securing it with a silver clasp. Raven’s thick hair held its shape easily, requiring little more than a few quick adjustments.

  Once her hair was neatly arranged, the servants applied a light dusting of powder to her face, ensuring she looked fresh and polished. The makeup was minimal—just enough to highlight her features, with a touch of subtle pink on her lips. Raven barely glanced at her reflection, her attention focused on the fabric of her dress.

  When everything was in place, the final touches were made—her silver bracelet slipped onto her wrist and a few tiny clasps on her shoes adjusted. Raven turned in front of the mirror, checking herself over to make sure everything was perfect. The dress hung elegantly around her small frame—simple yet refined. Her reflection looked poised and composed, the quiet confidence she carried with her beginning to settle in.

  One of the servants stepped back, allowing Raven to take in the final result. She gave a small nod, pleased with how everything had come together.

  “Everything is ready, young miss,” the servant said softly.

  Raven nodded calmly before turning to leave the room. As she exited, the servants quietly closed the door behind her.

  “Young miss, all the guests have arrived,” Butler Hans said, leading her toward the banquet hall. “The Lord is waiting for you.”

  “Why is he waiting for me?” Raven asked, her lips pursed, suspicion in her eyes.

  “...The Lord doesn’t have anyone else to accompany him today. He would like you to accompany him.”

  “I don’t feel good about this.”

  “Well, this is what he asked.”

  “I certainly don’t feel good about this,” Raven muttered under her breath as she walked gracefully into the reception room.

  Her father was lounging in a chair, his head propped up on his palm in a relaxed manner. When he turned to her, his cold eyes flickered, and he rose to meet her with long strides.

  “You really dared to keep me waiting,” he said with a cold smile, then offered her his arm. But as he did, he quickly withdrew it, realizing she was just a bit too short to hold it comfortably. “Ha, I feed you so well, why are you still so short?”

  Raven’s face turned red with both embarrassment and frustration. “If you are a giraffe, is it still my fault?” she shot back. She was tall for her age and certainly not short by any standard.

  He rubbed her head calmly, emphasizing her height—or lack thereof. “Don’t be so sour. You’ll grow taller. Hold my finger like a good child.”

  Raven sighed inwardly as she took his hand, a quiet certainty settling over her. It’s going to be a long evening, she thought, sensing that the challenges she’d have to manage at the banquet would go far beyond the arrangements.

  As they were about to enter the hall, her father observed her expression and leaned in, his voice low. “Are you nervous?”

  She turned toward him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Father, you joke well. But if anyone should be nervous, it’s them, not me.”

  Raven didn’t notice the amusement in Rayan’s eyes as he nodded to the bodyguard to open the door.

  The doors to the banquet hall swung open, and the chatter inside faltered to an immediate halt. Heads turned. Conversations dropped to hushed whispers. Every eye in the room followed the pair as they stepped through.

  Raven walked in first, her hand firmly held by her father’s larger one. Together, they exuded an effortless authority that commanded the room. Her black dress caught the light, and her dark hair swayed in a neat ponytail with each confident step. Though young, her presence carried the weight of someone who had inherited power effortlessly.

  Her father, a figure of quiet dominance, ruled the room. His suit was sharp, his presence even sharper, and his dark eyes swept the hall with detached authority, unaffected by the gazes that followed him.

  As they made their way down the grand hall, the room seemed to hold its breath. There was an unmistakable tension in the air, not from intimidation, but from the recognition that they were in the presence of someone untouchable. The kind of tension that arises when someone walks in, and their mere presence makes it clear that there's no need for them to announce themselves—everyone already knows who they are.

  The guests were clearly surprised. Whispers rippled through the crowd like an awkward wave of unease.

  “Is that really her?” one guest murmured, eyes widening as they sized up Raven. “Wasn’t she supposed to be...”

  "To be what?" someone else responded, frowning. "I heard she was... disfigured during the beast wave in the capital, right?"

  A third guest nodded solemnly, their voice wavering between curiosity and relief. “I heard she might have lost her mind three years ago—"

  But then they all paused, eyes flicking back to Raven as she walked by—calm, composed, head held high—radiating nothing but quiet confidence. There were no scars, no signs of distress, and certainly no visible traces of the tragic event that had caused so much speculation.

  Another guest, nervously smoothing their dress, muttered under their breath, "I guess rumors can be exaggerated after all."

  "Then why was she hidden? Do you think she was..." someone else speculated, their eyes wide with awe as Raven passed them, clearly having underestimated her. The girl radiated strength, even at such a young age, and it was impossible not to feel small in her presence.

  A collective exhale rippled through the room as Raven’s father strolled past, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. Some of the more perceptive guests lowered their heads in reverence. The Serth family—respected, feared, and undeniably at the top of the food chain.

  “Is it true that she awakened, after all?” one whispered. “But isn’t that... too early?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” another murmured. “She is a Serth, after all. Just like her father. Awakening early would be the least of the surprises she’d give us.”

  Raven, who had heard the whispers but hadn’t bothered to acknowledge them, turned slightly to meet her father's gaze. He gave her the briefest of nods, barely noticeable to anyone else in the room.

  As they reached the front of the hall, Raven gracefully detached her hand from her father's. The subtle shift in the room was undeniable, as though she herself had commanded it. With a small, almost imperceptible smile, she surveyed the guests, her presence exuding quiet authority.

  “Ah, yes,” one guest whispered, his voice tinged with reluctant admiration. “I suppose she can be the heir after all... I thought the son would be naturally selected as the successor due to her injury. Not a scratch on her, though. Now the question is, did she awaken the wind element? And how strong is it?”

  Her father, standing behind her, allowed the faintest glint of approval to flash in his eyes. No words were needed; Raven’s presence alone was enough to silence the rumors.

  But the guests attending the banquet couldn't rest easy.

  Just like three years ago, when Raven’s isolation had stirred up speculation, the major families now had to rethink their plans. The representatives of each family rushed to inform their leaders. The Serth patriarch had brought his daughter out of hiding today. This was huge.

  For the elementalists, this was huge news. The Serths maintained cooperative relationships with nearly every elemental family. Any potential heir was worth paying close attention to, as their future could hinge on it.

  The Serth family’s elders and branch heads were in turmoil too. This move was completely unexpected. Though they weren’t sure whether Raven had been truly injured, their patriarch had received a considerable compensation package from the capital’s government three years ago. The children who had been with Raven had all been severely injured, and they had assumed she must have suffered the worst. Rayan had kept the details under wraps, and so the assumption lingered.

  As time passed, with Raven’s absence from social gatherings and her exclusion from the Serth’s awakening and training center, they had become increasingly sure of their guess. Many had quietly begun to support the son instead. He was older, a boy, and had awakened a strong wind element just last year—talented and promising. It seemed the logical choice for the heir.

  But now, seeing Raven like this, they realized they might have judged too quickly. She didn’t appear mentally or physically injured. It was clear that the reason she had been hidden was because she had awakened.

  Awakening at the age of five was a rare event. It meant she was years ahead of her peers, and she was undeniably talented. If someone couldn’t awaken during a dangerous situation, they might fail or only partially awaken, but Raven had done it. She was clearly a gem—someone who wouldn’t be hindered by mere things like gender or timing.

  Of course, there was a way to confirm if she had awakened. But to do that, someone would have to probe her—and no one dared touch Rayan Serth’s daughter.

  After a moment of clamour, Rayan Serth stood up to address the guests. The guests, now relatively calm, turned their attention to Raven’s father in quiet anticipation.

  Rayan didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He began directly, his voice low yet commanding: "To those gathered here tonight, I’ll keep this brief."

  He paused, allowing the silence to deepen before continuing.

  "Events like this are, after all, merely a formality. A way to remind the world of where we stand. The Serth family has never sought approval. We don’t need to explain ourselves. Our status is earned through action, not words. It does not bend to the will of others. It is the world that bends to us."

  His cold, unflinching gaze swept across the room.

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  "It is not a name given, nor one earned through kindness. It is earned through power, will, and the refusal to be moved."

  His tone sharpened. "So, enjoy the evening. You won’t find a more worthy host than the Serths."

  With that, the banquet officially began.

  For the first half-hour, Raven stayed beside her father, watching him engage in small talk with a few prominent guests. She felt bored. These guests were from major elemental families or tier-1 families—anyone below that level wasn’t worth her attention. Raven recognized each one, having studied the guest list in detail.

  Once the initial greetings were done and the guests were distracted, Raven decided to excuse herself. She wanted to find Ashcal and her other friends, keep a low profile, and stay out of the way until something important came up.

  "Where are you going?" Her father’s voice was quiet but sharp. His narrowed eyes studied her every movement, and the hint of suspicion flickered beneath his otherwise composed expression.

  Raven smiled casually. "I’m going to find the others, Father. It’s been a while, and we have much to discuss."

  His gaze remained cold. "You’re going to meet that boy, aren’t you? Leaving your father to his own devices."

  Raven’s smile twitched. "Father, really. You make me sound so heartless," she replied, her tone laced with mock sympathy. "I invited them here. I can’t very well leave them. You understand the importance of maintaining connections, don’t you?"

  A brief silence stretched between them, his gaze unyielding. His voice, low and controlled, came next: "You’d better be back soon."

  Raven nodded noncommittally. "Sure." She slipped away, knowing he would forget about it in a few minutes.

  She understood her father well. Aloof and prideful, he had never chased after people. People ran after him. He was negligent when it came to affection. He would give her everything—power, wealth, and whatever she deserved as his child and potential heir—but he could never offer the warmth she yearned for. In important moments, she could easily be forgotten.

  Raven went to find Ashcal first, asking Butler Hans about his whereabouts. Hans informed her that most of the kids were gathered in the designated children’s area—the Orchid Garden outside. The garden was filled with children of various ages, all accompanied by their nannies. Snacks and drinks suitable for their age were arranged there.

  After the incident in the capital, Raven had refused to let Margaret accompany her. Margaret had tried to change her mind, but Raven had remained firm. Margaret had been helpless but also touched by Raven’s decision.

  Raven hadn’t shown any outward reaction to her nanny’s death—no signs of grief. But when one of the staff mentioned her nanny in passing, Raven had gone completely silent for the rest of the day. Over the next few days, she had become more determined in everything she did. That was when Margaret realized something had changed.

  Raven cared deeply. She hadn’t been unaffected by the loss, but she knew it was grief she could never truly overcome. She quietly found ways to cope. Her nanny had been someone dear to her, and she had died protecting her. Raven wanted her to remain an unforgettable, happy memory. All her belongings—from birthday presents to lullabies—were carefully kept and preserved. No one was allowed to touch them. Raven had even recorded the lullabies her nanny had sung to her.

  The nanny had become an untouchable subject. No one dared speak of her. Margaret understood this better than anyone. Raven’s refusal to let the same mistakes happen again was her way of coping.

  Back to the present, Raven saw Ashcal talking to a girl. Ashcal had grown taller, and Raven could sense he was no longer the helpless child he had once been. He had become strong.

  Well, of course, Raven thought. He is one of the main characters, after all. He is talented. But Raven didn’t think she was lacking compared to him. He was strong, but she wasn’t weak either.

  Her gaze shifted to the girl with green hair and dark blue eyes. Suddenly, a memory flashed. In her past life, Ashcal had been close to a girl who had made her deeply jealous. A girl who had outshone Raven in every way. Raven couldn’t recall the girl’s name, but she was certain this was the same person.

  But that wasn’t all. Raven remembered the second turning point of her life. At this very banquet in her past life, Raven had made a scene. She didn’t remember how exactly, but that had been the moment Ashcal and the girl grew closer, and Raven’s reputation began to crumble.

  Frowning, Raven waited nearby for their conversation to end, feeling uneasy.

  Children and their nannies looked at Raven frowning at the pair. Some of the children began imagining things but did not dare approach.

  Three years ago, Raven’s hair had been dyed brown. She had been arrogant, yet approachable—just another naive child. The children of prominent families mature quickly. They understood the significance of black hair and eyes. It was a taboo, a sign of disaster. But now, they also understood her background—Raven wasn’t someone they could casually approach or offend.

  A girl found the courage to greet Raven. They had been playmates three years ago, though Raven had kept her distance since. "Raven, how wonderful to see you! A very happy birthday—it feels like it’s been forever since we last met!"

  Raven snapped out of her daze and smiled at the familiar girl. "Cassier, thank you so much. It really has been too long." Cassier was from the Chase family, a tier-2 lightning elemental family. They chatted for a while, and soon, more children joined in. Seeing the commotion, Ashcal came over to wish Raven as well.

  After a brief exchange, Raven and Ashcal walked off together. Ashcal already knew Raven had awakened the day of the incident—she had told him after the compensation deal was settled. In fact, he had figured it out on his own. Ashcal was sharp. He had noticed Raven’s improved intelligence and the coincidental house arrest. He hadn’t said anything, understanding that her father might have prohibited her from revealing it. He simply congratulated her.

  "The decor is amazing," Ashcal remarked. "Did you choose the theme?"

  "...You’re very observant. Yes, I did."

  Ashcal chuckled. "It’s not just observation. It’s that you’ve been busy, and... your father wouldn’t need black in the theme."

  Raven hadn’t thought of it that way and understood what he meant. Her father wouldn’t use black to showcase power—he was power itself. Only Raven would need such a theme. She realized her father had given her enough importance for the banquet to carry a subtle personal touch.

  She laughed softly. "I guess I was too excited."

  Ashcal nodded. "That’s fine."

  Raven changed the topic. "By the way, who were you talking to earlier? She looked familiar."

  Ashcal hesitated briefly before answering, "Freya Urnel."

  Raven’s eyes widened slightly, giving him a subtle look that asked, Is what I’m thinking right?

  Ashcal nodded. "She needed help with something."

  Raven didn’t pry further, contemplating.

  Freya Urnal. The Urnal family’s illegitimate child. Awakened just a few months back, her superpower Catastrophe– an ability which directly allowed an illegitimate child like her to be accepted as an heir.

  Urnal family was a tier - 1 family in the western region. They had made their name with their strong wide range abilities and were an absolute menace to the beasts. They were responsible for forcefully controlling the beast population by giving them disasters year after year.

  But that wasn’t what made them a tier– 1 family. It was the catastrophe ability which is passed down to only one child of the generation, who would then be automatically chosen as the heir, that made them truly fearful.

  ‘Catastrophe’ had a lot of potential as it wasn’t specified like the other superpowers of the Urnal family. Simply said, superpowers like ‘Earthquake’, ‘tsunami’ or ‘drought’ were terrifying. But catastrophe, which included all of them and much more, was just on another level.

  But it wasn’t without limits. It wasn’t very effective against a single person or a focussed area. It also needed a lot of mental energy. So they had to rely a lot on martial arts to keep their lives. Another weakness were water, earth and fire elementalists, who had a firm control over their element would be almost unaffected by their attacks after isolating themselves. Like Raven, who was a wind elementalist, would directly fly in the air and firmly grip the winds so they wouldn't respond to Freya’s command. Anything else wouldn’t affect her much.

  Raven processed everything in a split second before hearing Ashcal’s voice: “Freya, do you need something?”

  Freya smiled sweetly, her eyes wide and innocent. “No, I just thought I heard my name,” she said as she stepped closer, her tone gentle and calm. Raven studied her carefully, and immediately, her intuition flared. This girl was pretending to be innocent, but Raven could see through it effortlessly.

  Freya was the picture of grace. Her green hair fell in soft waves, catching the light, as though it were kissed by spring itself. Her dark blue eyes, clear and shimmering, exuded purity, framed by lashes that fluttered with every blink. She wore a pale lavender gown of silk, embroidered with silver thread that glimmered with every subtle movement. A satin ribbon tied neatly at her waist, adding a touch of elegance. She appeared like an angel—unblemished and untouched, with a soft, innocent demeanor.

  “Did you call me?” Freya asked, her voice light and melodic, as though she genuinely didn’t understand why they were discussing her.

  “No, we didn’t,” Ashcal replied with a casual tone. “We just happened to mention you in the conversation.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Freya tilted her head, a look of confusion crossing her face. “Then… what were you talking about?” Her voice was gentle, with just the slightest hint of curiosity.

  Raven frowned slightly, feeling that she was too direct and impolite. "Sorry, it was personal," she said, keeping her tone polite but firm.

  “Ah, I’m sorry…” Freya’s voice trembled, eyes dropping to the ground. Anyone who looked at her pitiful appearance would want to console her. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought maybe… maybe you were saying something bad about me…” Her voice faltered, as though she were caught off guard by her own emotions, but Raven saw through it, as her intuition flagged at that moment.

  The surrounding children started to whisper, their curiosity piqued by the sudden tension.

  “I’m not that kind of person,” Raven replied firmly, meeting Freya’s gaze directly. “Please don’t think so badly of me. I haven’t done anything to warrant it.” Raven didn’t care what she thought. She was just curious about Freya’s intentions and thus thought it was fine to humour her for a while.

  Ashcal, sensing the discomfort, gave a reassuring smile to Freya. “Yes, Freya. Raven isn’t swayed by rumors. You don’t need to worry.”

  But Freya’s expression faltered, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes before she dropped her gaze again. “No, I didn’t… I just… You were frowning when I was talking to Ashcal. And… and some girls have bullied me before when I spoke to a boy. I thought… maybe you were upset with me…” Her voice quivered, as though she were about to break down.

  At that moment, Raven had heard enough to gauge out her intentions. Her mind was sharp, and her analysis was quick. She quickly saw through Freya's manipulations, recognizing that the girl's sweet, innocent demeanor was a calculated act. Freya, new to the social circle, was using her fresh, untainted image to her advantage, playing on the biases of those around her—especially the fact that Raven, with her dark hair and eyes, was already seen as an outsider. Freya's ploy was simple: portray herself as the victim, casting Raven as jealous and bullying. The act was convincing to others because of how easily people in this society believed in her purity, something Raven was all too aware of.

  …Or that’s what she wants me to think, Raven’s eyes flashed at this sudden thought. Would a tier - 1 family’s heir be so simple? It was possible, but Raven was sure that her intuition wouldn’t act on someone with such easy tricks. So she understood that Freya was actually probing, to find out the nature of the Serth’s family’s young miss— after all, what is a better method to bring out someone’s nature than putting them in a tough place?

  Raven’s gaze turned colder as she further analyzed the situation. Freya knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t just playing the victim, she was trying to find a weakness to exploit, to get a sense of how Raven would respond.

  Probably noticing her frowning face earlier, Freya had interpreted it as jealousy. But she was smart enough to not act on a guess, instead trying to directly question her about the gaze. Anyone would be uneasy and upset if they were questioned like that, much less Raven. If she responded with defensiveness or anger, she would look like a fool. If she stayed calm, she might be seen as indifferent. Either way, Freya would learn something valuable.

  Raven narrowed her eyes, her irritation simmering beneath her composed exterior. This girl dared to mess with her like this. Did she look like an easy target?

  Ashcal gave her a helpless look, sensing that things were spiraling.

  “Aren’t you thinking too much?” Raven asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I can’t stop you from thinking so highly of yourself.”

  Freya’s eyes widened at the words, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she looked up, red-eyed and seemingly on the verge of tears. “But, then… Why were you frowning?” she asked, her voice quivering with innocence.

  Raven didn’t miss a beat. “Please mind your own business. You are being far too meddlesome.”

  “No… I wasn’t trying to be meddlesome,” Freya insisted, her voice taking on that soft, broken tone, the one designed to make people doubt their own perceptions.

  “Then, why must I explain my mild actions to you?” Raven’s voice was cold, cutting.

  “I… I’m sorry…” Freya’s voice broke, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she collapsed onto her knees. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone…”

  Raven’s expression hardened as Freya’s sobs became more dramatic. Raven saw it all—the carefully constructed victimhood, the way Freya sought to evoke pity, to gain allies in this room. She was good at this. Good enough to fool the children around here. And Raven was really disgusted.

  “Are you sorry?” Raven asked, her voice icy. “Do you even understand what you’ve done wrong?”

  Freya, still kneeling, looked up at Raven with tear-filled eyes. “I… I don’t know…” she whispered, her voice soft and trembling.

  “Don’t stammer. Speak properly.” Raven’s voice was icy cold.

  Freya’s tears flowed freely now, her face a mask of innocence and sorrow, but she wasn’t actually a victim here. She was the one pulling the strings, trying to manipulate everyone around her.

  Ashcal, seeing Raven's cold demeanor and Freya's breakdown, finally intervened. “Raven, that’s enough,” he said, gently nudging her.

  “Raven, that’s enough.” Ashcal nudged her slightly.

  ...I don’t think it is. Raven glanced at him, her expression unreadable, but she didn’t say anything before turning away, leaving Ashcal to deal with the aftermath. As she walked off, she could hear the murmurs and whispers from the children around them, but she didn’t care. It was a shame they were so easily swayed.

  “Oh my god! Young miss, why are you crying!” someone who appeared to be Freya’s nanny exclaimed loudly as she rushed toward her.

  “No… I didn’t mean to,” Freya sniffled as she said, “Did… did I upset Raven too much? I didn’t mean to–”

  “Young miss! What did you say?! Did the Serth family’s young miss bully you?!”

  Freya just sniffled, neither agreeing nor denying. “I– I…” she stammered, but it was enough for her nanny to understand.

  After Ashcal handed Freya to her frantic nanny, he sighed. “Please don’t misunderstand. Raven is not someone who would bully people.”

  The nanny was clearly displeased. “Our young miss is new to the circle and looks like an easy target. But her prestige is, after all, not any less than the Serth family’s young miss’. I hope young master Ashcal will take care of our young miss and be fair to her.”

  Ashcal sighed and turned away, the frustration creeping into his features. They won’t listen to me anyway.