Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 179: Heading To The Smith Clan.

A sleek blue jet cut through the sky like a phantom, its presence undetectable to ordinary eyes. Clouds parted in its wake, yet there was no sonic boom, no roar of engines—just the silent dominance of technology far beyond conventional human capabilities. Behind it, several identical jets followed in perfect formation, each as sleek and enigmatic as the first.

Inside, the jet’s interior defied expectations. It wasn’t cramped like a military aircraft but designed with both luxury and efficiency in mind. The living area was spacious, more like the lounge of an elite penthouse than the interior of a war machine. Soft lighting casts a warm glow over plush sofas and high-tech panels. The cockpit, visible through a transparent partition, required little manual operation—the advanced AI system handled nearly everything, leaving the pilots with little more to do than monitor systems.

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Ethan sat comfortably on one of the expansive sofas, his arm draped over Carmen, who rested snugly against him. Unlike the others, she hadn’t been with them during the expedition to the Labyrinth Grove, making their reunion all the more intense. His fingers traced gentle patterns on her arm, his golden eyes half-lidded as he savored the moment. Tia, in her bracelet form, pulsed faintly on his wrist, a quiet presence as always.

The rest of the girls surrounded him, resting against each other with an ease that spoke of deep bonds. Their relaxed postures contrasted sharply with the hushed tension that still lingered in the air—anticipation for what lay ahead.

Across from them, Trevor slouched in his seat, his face a picture of exhaustion. Between him sat Emily and Sixtie, their eyes locked in an unspoken battle of wills. The air between them was charged, and Trevor, caught between the brewing storm, could only sigh in resignation.

A little farther away, Lamair lounged with Lusamine and Cassandra nestled comfortably against him. The two women looked utterly content, their relaxed expressions a stark contrast to the weighty mission that loomed ahead.

On another sofa, Amor and Petra exchanged amused glances, their eyes flickering between the couples and the ongoing silent battle between Emily and Sixtie. Meanwhile, Madeleine sat cross-legged on a cushion, her focus entirely on her phone, scrolling with the kind of detached ease that made it seem like the chaos around her didn’t exist.

The only one who seemed truly out of place was Vlad. His expressions shifted between confusion and contemplation, his mind clearly running through whatever thoughts plagued him. Every now and then, he glanced at Ethan, as if trying to piece together the man he had followed into this war.

They were heading straight to the Smith Clan’s base—Ethan’s supposed home. It would be his first time stepping into the heart of the family that had shaped so much of his past without him ever being a part of it. His anticipation was a quiet hum beneath the surface, restrained but undeniable.

His golden eyes darkened slightly before he turned his attention back to Carmen. Without a word, he tilted her chin up, capturing her lips in a deep, unhurried kiss. She melted into him, her fingers tightening against his shirt as the warmth between them deepened.

It was more than just desire. It was everything he hadn’t been able to say, everything he had felt in the time they’d been apart.

If it weren’t for their current location—and the mission ahead—he might have taken things further right then and there. To hell with the formalities of the Steil Clan. He and Carmen were already bound in spirit and soul. What more was needed?

As the jet hummed through the sky, the tension of war lingered in the air, but for this fleeting moment, Ethan allowed himself to simply exist with the people he held close.

...

Madeleine sat comfortably on one of the sofas, her expression calm as she conversed through a mental link, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere around her. Her fingers idly scrolled through her phone, but her focus was elsewhere.

[Madeleine: David, is everything set?]

[David: Yes, Master. Awaiting your next instruction. Jack and Freda are with me as well.]

[Madeleine: Good. Bring him to the clan. And come along with those two.]

A slight pause followed before David responded, hesitation evident in his tone.

[David: Are you sure about this, Master? I apologize for my disrespect, but this situation is too uncertain.]

[Madeleine: I understand your concerns, but it’s alright. They are full-fledged Primogenitors now. I trust you understand the weight of that.]

[David: I do, Master. I apologize again for my lack of understanding.]

[Madeleine: It’s nothing. Just get there quickly and inform the others to bring the Grie Gears. We’ll need them.]

[David: As you wish, Master. I’ll move immediately. See you soon.]

[Madeleine: I will be waiting.]

As the connection faded, Madeleine let out a slow breath, her green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

I hope they can save him… otherwise…

Her fingers tightened slightly against the phone in her grasp before she relaxed again, shifting her gaze to the window. Outside, the world passed in a blur, but in her mind, the real battle had already begun.

...

The Smith Clan Base was unlike anything else in Antrim City. Situated deep within the Spike Ranges, it stood in stark contrast to the hyper-advanced structures of the metropolis. While the city was a marvel of modern engineering, filled with towering skyscrapers, sleek neon-lit roads, and AI-driven infrastructure, the Spike Ranges were an untouched relic of the ancient world.

Jagged mountains speared into the heavens like the fangs of a slumbering beast, their rocky surfaces etched with deep cracks and runes weathered by time. Lush green forests clung to the steep slopes, their trees ancient and massive, with roots that dug deep into the mountain’s core. Mist wove through the valleys, swirling around the towering peaks like a living entity. Rivers carved their way through the terrain, glistening like silver veins under the moonlight. The air here was thick with primordial energy, a stark contrast to the artificial hum of Antrim City’s machinery.

Carved into the heart of these mountains lay the Smith Clan Base, an architectural wonder built directly into the rock. Unlike the modern, metal-clad bases of other major forces, the Smith Clan’s stronghold was a blend of ancient and mystical construction. The entrance was a colossal stone gateway embedded within the mountainside, flanked by towering statues of warriors long past, their expressions fierce and resolute. Enormous chains as thick as tree trunks were embedded into the cliffs, stretching across the peaks like barriers of war, rumored to be artifacts forged by the first Smith ancestors.

Inside, the base extended deep underground, with vast cavernous halls illuminated by floating orbs of golden fire, their glow pulsating like a heartbeat. The walls bore engravings of old battles, forgotten oaths, and the legacy of the Smith bloodline, their craftsmanship untouched by time. Ancient forges still burned with ethereal flames, tended by blacksmiths who carried the old ways forward. The clang of metal against metal echoed through the chambers as artifacts, weapons, and armor of unimaginable power were crafted beneath the mountain’s watchful gaze.

Massive stone pillars, covered in veins of glowing blue and crimson energy, supported the deeper sections of the base, leading into sacred chambers where the clan’s most powerful warriors trained. These halls were filled with an aura of raw elemental power, the very foundation of the Smith Clan’s strength. Unlike the energy-dependent warriors of Antrim City, the Smith Clan had mastered the balance of mysticism and physical might, making them a force to be reckoned with.

At the heart of the stronghold was the Council Hall, a vast open chamber with a domed ceiling made of translucent crystal, allowing the sunlight to filter in, casting strange yet mesmerizing patterns across the stone floor. Here, decisions of war and leadership were made, and at the center stood an ancient throne, carved from a single piece of obsidian-like rock, rumored to be a seat of power passed down through generations.

Despite its ancient aesthetic, the base was far from primitive. Protective barriers, concealed surveillance systems, and hidden automated defenses ensured that even the most advanced invaders would struggle to breach its depths. The Smith Clan did not need flashy displays of technology—their power lay in their mastery of the old world, a force that transcended time itself.

As Ethan’s jet approached the Spike Ranges, the towering mountains cast long shadows over the landscape. The sheer scale of the terrain made it seem as if they were entering another realm entirely—one that did not belong to the modern world but to something far older, far more untamed.

The stronghold awaited. The Smith clan awaited.

...

Deep within the Spike Ranges, far from the bustling stronghold and city of the Smith Clan, an ancient cave pulsed with an eerie silvery-gold light. The glow was almost white, yet it carried an ethereal depth, shifting like liquid starlight across the cavern walls. It was a place untouched by time, hidden so well that even the most skilled seekers had never found it.

Something within the depths stirred.

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The cave trembled, its walls quaking as if waking from an eternity of slumber. Dust and loose rock cascaded from the ceiling, yet the light remained undisturbed, flowing like a living entity, coiling around the presence that had begun to awaken. It was ancient, something far beyond the current era, something that had waited in silence for an untold number of years.

And now, it stirred—not fully awake, but no longer dormant.

A faint pulse rippled outward, unseen yet felt across the land. The energy seeped through the cracks of reality, spreading like an unseen whisper, reaching across the mountains, the forests, and the skies.

Back in the jet, Ethan’s golden eyes flickered for a brief moment, the glow within them deepening. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he lazily leaned back against the plush seat, his fingers tracing absent patterns along Carmen’s arm.

"Interesting…" he muttered.

His voice was soft, yet it carried weight, enough to make the others glance at him in curiosity. Trevor raised an eyebrow, and even Lamair turned his head slightly, sensing something off in Ethan’s tone.

"What is?" Emily finally asked, her sharp gaze narrowing slightly.

But Ethan just smiled, a cryptic expression crossing his face as he pulled Carmen closer, pressing a slow kiss to her lips. She giggled, her laughter light and unbothered, completely oblivious to whatever had just crossed Ethan’s mind.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to explain anything, the others exchanged looks before rolling their eyes or simply letting it go.

Ethan, however, remained silent, his attention seemingly back on Carmen—but in truth, his mind was elsewhere.

Something was waking up.

And whether it was a force for good or bad… only time would tell.