Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 181: The Smith Clan Stronghold – A City of Legacy and Power

Vlad led the group forward, his heavy steps echoing against the ancient stone paths beneath them. The stronghold was vast, stretching far beyond the cliffs where they had landed, an intricate city hidden among the towering peaks of the Spike Ranges.

The scenery unfolded before them as they moved through the entrance corridor—a breathtaking fusion of the past and future. Structures of carved stone, reinforced with enchanted metal, rose high, their surfaces lined with golden inscriptions that shimmered with latent energy. Glowing sigils pulsed gently across the walls, marking different clansmen’ boundaries, pathways, and residences. The air was thick with an ancient presence, the very land humming with a power long intertwined with the Smith Clan’s history.

Bridges of woven energy and floating stone spanned between buildings, defying gravity with a seamless blend of craftsmanship and magic. Waterways coursed through the city, clear and filled with luminescent fish, flowing through channels carved into the roads. Some areas were completely suspended in mid-air, connected by shimmering pathways of raw energy, a stark contrast to the rough, natural beauty of the mountains surrounding them.

Ethan let his gaze wander over the stronghold, taking in the towering structures, the carved murals depicting battles and alliances, and the glow of protective enchantments humming softly across the cityscape. There was a harmony here—where technology and magic coexisted effortlessly, creating a sanctuary of both power and history.

The clansmen moved through the streets in disciplined order, their attires marking their statuses. The vampires among them wore crimson robes with silver-threaded embroidery, their long coats billowing slightly as they moved with their characteristic grace. The dwarves donned heavier garments—reinforced leather lined with spirit-infused metal, some even sporting armor adorned with intricate rune work. Their horns signified their rank, glowing faintly under the soft lights that illuminated the streets.

As the group followed Vlad through the stronghold, whispers spread like wildfire.

"The Primogenitor has returned…"

"That’s the one from the Labyrinth Grove…"

"He’s even taller than the stories say."

"And those eyes… golden, like the old legends."

Ethan ignored most of the murmurs, but he couldn’t ignore the way some gazes lingered—some filled with reverence, others with apprehension. The weight of expectations settled on his shoulders, but he carried it without faltering.

Vlad, noticing Ethan’s silent observation, slowed his pace slightly and gestured toward a massive structure to their right.

"This is the Vault of Ancestors," he said, his voice carrying the authority of history. "It holds the records of every great warrior and leader of our clan. Every achievement, every sacrifice—it is all carved into the walls within. The spirits of our forefathers are said to linger here, watching over us, ensuring the path we walk does not stray from the will of the Smith Clan."

Ethan nodded, taking note of the towering obelisk-like building, its surface engraved with shifting inscriptions that glowed as if alive.

As they walked further, another grand structure loomed ahead. It was an enormous foundry, its entrance guarded by massive golems forged from living metal, their eyes flickering with blue fire. Inside, rivers of molten ore coursed through channels, and the sounds of hammering echoed as dwarven blacksmiths worked tirelessly.

"This," Vlad continued, "is the Ebonforge. The heart of our craftsmanship. Every weapon, every artifact of significance, is forged here. Some of the most powerful arms known to our kind were born from these fires."

Lamair let out an impressed whistle. "That explains the aura this place gives off. Feels like raw creation itself is happening inside."

Vlad only nodded, his gaze shifting forward.

They passed through bustling streets where vendors sold enchanted relics, spirit-infused weapons, and rare ores harvested from deep within the mountains. The marketplace was a blend of the arcane and the technological—floating screens displayed information about goods while traditional parchment contracts were still being signed in the old-fashioned way.

Finally, as they rounded a massive courtyard lined with obsidian pillars, their destination came into view.

The Assembly Hall of the Smith Clan.

A colossal structure, the size of two colosseums, its design is both regal and imposing. Its outer walls were lined with grand murals depicting the history of the Smith Clan—battles waged against ancient foes, alliances forged with other bloodlines, and the rise of their strongest warriors. Towering pillars supported an entrance so vast that even the tallest among them felt dwarfed by its scale. The very air here was charged with power as if the stone itself remembered every decision, every fate sealed within its halls.

"This," Vlad said, stopping before the entrance, "is where the true decisions of our people are made. The place where the highest of our kind gather to discuss matters that shape not just the Smith Clan but the world beyond it."

He turned to Ethan, his expression unreadable.

"And today… all of them are waiting for you."

Ethan’s golden eyes flickered as he took in the grandeur before him.

Vlad hesitated. His lips parted as if to argue, to offer resistance, but the weight of Ethan’s golden gaze silenced him. There was no room for debate—not with him.

’I must say… I’m impressed,’ Ethan finally said, shifting his attention back to the gathered clan members. His tone carried that same cryptic amusement, but his gaze remained sharp. "’But before we get to that… is there anyone we are missing?’

Silence. The elders exchanged glances, uncertain. Even the nobles behind Christel seemed perplexed by his words.

"I don’t understand," Vlad said, his brow furrowed.

Ethan tilted his head slightly. ’What is under the mountains?’

The question sent a visible ripple through the gathered members of the Smith Clan. Some stiffened, others glanced toward Vlad, waiting for him to answer.

"That…" Vlad exhaled, his voice quieter now. "It’s a long story."

Ethan’s golden eyes darkened slightly. ’Then make it short.’

Vlad clenched his jaw, debating his response.

Before he could speak, Madeleine’s voice cut through the tense air.

"That’s where Mother rests."

Her tone was steady, but there was something deep beneath it—something raw.

Ethan turned slightly, studying her expression. Then, slowly, a knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. He shifted his gaze to Trevor, who had been silent until now.

’You can feel it too, can’t you?’

Trevor inhaled sharply, his arms crossed as he rolled his shoulders. His usual casual demeanor wavered slightly. "Yeah… I feel it."

A presence—deep, powerful, and ancient.

Trevor narrowed his eyes. "Are you gonna bring her here?"

Ethan’s smirk widened. ’You know me well.’

Before anyone could react, he moved.

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One moment, he was standing beside them, the next—he was gone.

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Wind screamed in his wake as he leaped from the cliffside, his body cutting through the air like a spear. The city of the Smith Clan blurred beneath him, a patchwork of ancient stone and glowing energy, a blend of the old world and the new.

As he descended, his energy surged—subtle at first, then growing, expanding like a pulse. He let himself fall, twisting mid-air, his coat flaring around him like a dark flame.

The jagged peaks of the valley below loomed, a labyrinth of stone shards piercing the heavens like the fangs of an ancient beast. Mist slithered between them, whispering as it curled around the rocks. The air here was thick, charged with an unseen force, the weight of centuries pressing down.

Ethan rotated in mid-air, adjusting his posture just before impact. He reached out with his energy, a controlled force spiraling from his limbs.

Boom.

The moment his feet touched the valley floor, a shockwave rippled outward. Dust and debris lifted in a swirling dance, the jagged stone beneath him cracking from the sheer force of his landing.

And then—stillness.

The presence he had felt before was stronger here. It pulsed beneath his feet, a heartbeat buried in the bones of the world. His golden eyes flickered, tracing the mist-drenched valley until they locked onto something.

A cave.

It was nestled between the towering shards of stone, its entrance a yawning abyss lined with jagged silver and gold veins. The energy radiating from within was potent, raw, and watching.

Ethan took a slow step forward, the ground beneath him humming in response.

A whisper brushed against his senses.

A voice not of words but of existence.

Something within was waiting.

Something within knew he had arrived.

...

Ethan stepped forward, the shadows of the cave swallowing him inch by inch. The air within was thick—dense with something ancient, something patient. The walls pulsed faintly with veins of gold and silver as if the cave itself were alive, breathing in quiet slumber.

Deeper inside, past the layers of mist curling along the ground, something stirred.

A presence—vast and unmoving, yet aware.

The silence stretched, heavy and expectant. Then, with a sound softer than the shifting of silk, eyes opened.

Brilliant white.

Not glowing, not burning, but radiant, as if they held the purest essence of the world within them. They were calm yet piercing, reflecting everything and nothing at once.

And above them, half-shrouded in darkness, a pair of crystalline horns emerged—ram-like, smooth yet jagged as if carved from the purest crystal. They shimmered, shifting with the faintest glint of color, catching the sparse light filtering through the cave’s entrance.

For a moment, nothing else moved.

Then, the cave sighed—a low, resonant hum, neither a growl nor a breath, but something deeper, something ancient.

Ethan stood still, watching.

The being was awake.