Void Devouring System

Chapter 5

The Ashworth Estate's Grand Ballroom sparkled like a diamond in the night, with crystal chandeliers hanging from vaulted ceilings, casting warm light on silk dresses and tailored suits that cost more than most citizens earned in a lifetime. Waiters weaved through the crowd, carrying trays of champagne and rare delicacies, weaving between the elite of society who had gathered to witness the coronation of the new heir.

Darius Ashworth stood on the central dais, basking in the adoration. He looked every inch the golden prince, his smile practiced, and his S-Rank aura radiating a gentle warmth that kept the chill of the evening at bay. Victor Ashworth, beside him, looked proud for the first time in years, raising a glass to toast his only remaining son.

"To the future," Victor said, his voice echoing throughout the huge hall. "To strength. "To legacy."

"To Darius!""The audience echoed, five hundred voices joined in sycophancy.

The enormous oak doors at the far end of the ballroom swung wide with a thunderous bang, piercing through the ovation like a knife.

Every head turned, and the music came to an abrupt halt.

Kael Ashworth stood in the doorway, wearing a dark, tailored coat he'd taken from the security locker room, which fit him perfectly, emphasizing shoulders that seemed broader than anyone remembered. His hair was slightly disheveled, his face pale, but his eyes burned with such intensity that people instinctively stepped back.

"Sorry I'm late," Kael murmured, his voice easily traveling across the hushed room. "Traffic from the afterlife was murder."

A gasp echoed through the audience, glasses shattered as they dropped from nerveless fingers, and whispers spread like wildfire.

"Isn't that a failure?"

"I believed he had committed suicide!"

"He looks..." different."

On the dais, Darius went white; the glass in his palm fractured under unexpected pressure, wine staining his white glove like fresh blood, and he took a step back, his serenity snapping for the first time.

"Impossible," Darius said, his voice wavering just enough for the microphones to pick it. "You fell..." "I saw you fall."

"Funny thing about falling," Kael muttered, beginning to stroll down the middle aisle. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea, people racing to get out of his way. "It's the landing that generally kills you. Turns out I'm more difficult to break than you expected, brother."

Victor was the first to recover, his features hardening into a furious mask as he pointed a shaky finger at his youngest son. "Security!" Remove this... Take quick action against this intruder! He's no longer an Ashley!"

Four guards stationed near the entrance moved to intercept Kael. They were strong men with mild physical augmentations, used to throwing out paparazzi and drunk guests, and grabbed for him with practiced efficiency.

Kael didn't even slow down; instead of looking at them, he lifted his right hand, the fingers twitching slightly.

The marble floor underneath the guards erupted.

The men pushed against their earthen cages, shouting in terror, but the stone spikes encased them up to their necks before they could move another step.

The ballroom exploded in screaming, and guests raced backward, upsetting tables and spilling drinks. Cameras flashed madly, capturing every moment of the incredible performance.

Kael continued going until he reached the center of the chamber, directly in front of the dais. With another careless wave of his hand, the floor moaned and shifted: marble tiles flowed like liquid, rising and rearranging themselves into a high-backed throne of solid stone.

He sat down, crossed one knee over the other, and gave his family a chilly, predatory smile.

"Brother," Kael replied kindly. "We need to talk."

The whispers became louder and agitated.

"Did he awaken?" I believed the stone had rejected him!"

"That is earth manipulation!" But he had no compatibility!"

"Have you seen how quickly he cast that? No incantations, no motions!"

Darius peered at the stone throne, his gaze flitting between Kael and the trapped soldiers. He managed a laugh, but it sounded brittle and empty.

"A parlor trick," Darius scoffed, attempting to reclaim control of the room. "You survived a fall and studied hedge magic. Congratulations. Does this mean you want your allowance returned? Because the answer remains no. You are still useless trash, Kael. "A C-rank ability does not change that."

Kael leaned back and rested his cheek on his hand. "Trash?" That's an intriguing perspective from someone who had to murder his own brother to feel confident about his fortune."

"Lies!Eleanor screamed from beside Victor, "He's delirious!" He jumped! Everyone knows that he leaped!"

"The cameras know different," Kael replied softly. "Or they would have, if Captain Vance hadn't disabled them on your orders." It's a shame about Vance. He will not be coming to work tomorrow. "Or ever again."

Darius's brows narrowed. "You're threatening me in my own home?" In front of the whole city?"

"I am not threatening you, Darius," Kael stepped up slowly, the stone throne shattering into dust behind him. "I am educating you." You called me trash. You called me weak. "You said I had no value."

He took a stride toward the dais, and the air in the room appeared to get heavier, as if it were charged with an unseen pressure.

"Let me show you the difference between us," Kael murmured, his voice falling to a menacing whisper that rang across the silence. "Right here. Right now. An Awakener Duel. Unless, of course, the S-Rank Golden Heir is terrified of a small... trash?"

The challenge hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. In their society, denying a public duel was social suicide; it was an admission of cowardice, and no noble house could survive.

Darius stared at the audience, saw the mistrust in their eyes, the cameras capturing every micro-expression, and his father's anxious, demanding stare.

He had no choice.

"Afraid?"Darius laughed again, and this time there was genuine malice in it." Of you? I'm just frightened of inadvertently killing you this time, little brother. And I wouldn't want to destroy the carpet.

"I'll take my chances," Kael replied.

"Fine." Darius stepped down from the dais, dropping his ceremonial jacket, and solar energy began to concentrate around his hands, burning brighter than the chandeliers above. The heat radiated outward, causing people in the first row to protect their faces. "Let us continue what we started on the balcony. But don't expect pity just because you crawled out of the grave."

"Mercy?" Kael smirked, and for a minute, his eyes seemed to flare with a void-dark brilliance that engulfed the brightness of Darius's fires. "I don't even know what the phrase means."

The audience surged backward, clearing a wide circle in the center of the ballroom, while waiters hurried to move tables. The air crackled with anticipation and anxiety.

Victor Ashworth observed from the dais, his countenance impassive; he did not try to stop them; in the Ashworth family, strength was the only law that mattered; if Kael wanted to die a second time to prove a point, Victor would allow it.

But when Kael faced the scorching fire of his brother's strength, he didn't appear to be about to die.

He looked like he was about to eat.