Chapter 13: Wolves Beneath the Silk

Clayton sat cross-legged in the center of his dorm room, eyes closed, breath measured. Around him, the air shimmered faintly with mana. His hands rested on his knees as he tried to focus, to pull the drifting strands of arcane thought into some kind of order. But his mind kept wandering—back to the duel, the crowd, Charles’s face twisted in confusion at the final moment, and the overwhelming noise that followed.

He opened his eyes and sighed.

"I need to get stronger. No distractions."

He scribbled notes onto a nearby parchment: mental fortification exercises, stress simulations, AP optimization drills. His combat instincts weren’t as honed as they needed to be. He was thinking two moves ahead in a game that demanded ten. Worse, his body still felt like it belonged to a scholar, not a duelist.

Running. Weight training. Martial sparring. Daily meditation. Mana compression techniques.

He was building a training regimen when his orb communicator buzzed. The sigil that glowed on its surface was not one he could ignore.

House Antigonus.

He hesitated, then accepted the call. His father's projection flickered into existence, seated on a throne-like chair carved from silver and obsidian. Behind him loomed the mystic wolf sigil of their house, aglow in starlight.

"Clayton," his father said, voice even and cool, eyes unreadable.

"Father."

"You are to attend a high council meeting in one hour. Be prompt. The summoning stone will activate shortly."

And with that, the projection vanished.

Clayton didn’t sigh this time. He knew this was coming, he simply stood and changed into formal robes, navy with silver trim, the wolf emblem embossed over his heart. One hour later, the summoning stone activated in his room, and a blink of arcane light transported him across continents.

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He arrived in the Echo Chamber, the council hall deep within House Antigonus’s ancestral estate. Twelve chairs of varying design formed a circle, each one occupied by a council member—powerful relatives, generals, investors, and arcane scholars. At the head of the room sat his father, Darius Antigonus.

The mystic wolf loomed behind them all.

Clayton bowed. “I greet the council.”

“Rise, heir of the Antigonus bloodline,” said one of the older council members with a mocking smile. "Or would you prefer we call you a performer now, given your dramatic flair at Vyrith’s Academy?"

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There were light chuckles. Some were genuine. Others were knives hidden in silk.

Darius raised a hand. “Enough.”

All eyes turned to him.

“Clayton’s duel has caused ripples throughout the empire. Nobles, commoners, even royals are speaking his name. We are not here to clap or scold. We are here to calculate.”

A woman in robes covered with alchemical sigils spoke next. “He embarrassed Charles Edwards. Publicly. On broadcast. That family has ties to half the northern trade routes.”

Another nodded. “And let’s not forget the comment about Madam Ivory. The Edwards house might push for economic retaliation. This victory has weight.”

Clayton met their gazes calmly. “I knew exactly what I was doing. I needed to enrage Charles for the win. He was too respected, even if he lost he would still be get away with honor crap. I had to strike his image—damage him in a way he wouldn’t recover from overnight. The mention of his mother was strategic. Nothing personal.”

One of the older men chuckled darkly. “Spoken like a true Antigonus.”

But his father said nothing at first. Then, slowly, he spoke.

“You do not mention a noblewoman’s name in public unless you want blood. The stunt with Madam Ivory gained you attention, but it also earned enemies. I hope you understand that you’re not a child anymore. Our enemies will not treat you as one.”

Clayton nodded. “Understood.”

Darius’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve thrown a stone into a lake we’ve kept still for decades. If I didn’t find it useful, I would be furious.”

That was the closest thing to approval his father would ever give.

Clayton knew this man well—sharp, composed, always weighing value above sentiment. Darius Antigonus cared about his son but his priority was always his house. Clayton wasn’t his son in that room. He was a member of the house

Another council member leaned forward. “Despite the noise, there are upsides. The value of our shares in Antigonus Trading spiked. Our gambling house outmaneuvered rivals. And with fifty million followers, the boy’s influence is a resource.”

“Some fear,” added a grim-faced woman, “that too much light on him will make our enemies bold. Others may want him to fall—hard. And publicly.”

There was a pause.

Darius stood, and the wolf emblem behind him flared.

“Then let them try. My son embarrassed Charles Edwards without using a single illegal card. He proved that our bloodline is more than money and archives. We are wolves, not sheep.”

The mystic wolf howled faintly as his mana stirred.

“And for that,” Darius continued, “Clayton shall be rewarded.”

A servant stepped into the room, carrying a locked silver case.

“This is the artifact granted to you by council approval. An ancient relic recovered from a forgotten ruin in the southern sands. It’s called the Mirror of Echoing Will.”

Clayton opened the case.

Inside lay a smooth, oval mirror, its surface shifting like water. When he touched it, a surge of resonance ran through his hand.

“It adapts to your intent,” said the alchemist. “It reflects not the past, but your potential. It stores momentum, allowing you to recall a spell or skill you’ve used before—in his full potentai, it lets you borrow a power from you future."

"Its negatie effects works after the duel, so you won't have to worry about it"

“It only works once per duel,” another added. “But with the right timing, it can be devastating.”

Clayton nodded, absorbing every word.

Darius sat again. “Train. Prepare. You are visible now. That is both shield and bait.”

Clayton bowed once more. “I will not disappoint.”

As he turned to leave, the wolf sigil seemed to watch him. Always watching.

The game was no longer about survival.

It was about domination.

And Clayton had just received his first real weapon.