The underground world was bustling with people of all walks of life. This next few days were the only ones which allowed common folk to flood this haven for the rich and elite.

Though many came for the entertainment, many more simply just wanted to take advantage of the dense qi this space had to offer. That said, there was still a fee to pay for entry. But, they all found it to be worth it.

There was a reason the three main families of this bubble world all had the same root in their names. They descended from a singular ancient family known as the Well Clan.

Many years ago, there world underwent a certain event that resulted in the birth of their current six stars and awakening a portion of their bloodlines that had been sealed from them in the past.

This was just one way the mortal and Immortal planes were different. In Dyon’s world, witnessing the birth and death of new suns was impossible. The death of a sun meant the collapse of the solar system and thus meant the need for a Clan to move – if one ever lasted that long, that is.

However, on the Immortal Plane, there were many Clans that had existed for long enough to witness the rise and fall of several Suns. This Dark Flame bubble world might have been on the more exaggerated side of the spectrum, with six suns forming at once, but they were nonetheless still within the expectations of the Immortal Plane.

This aside, this event caused the bloodlines to be split down three branches.

The Night Branch gained power over the black-red flames of three of this world’s stars. The Dark Branch gained power of the dark violet flames of the other three stars. And finally, the Dim bloodline branch gained weaker versions of both flames.

Over time, the Well Clan began to segregate amongst themselves, completing a cycle most human civilizations underwent. And, finally, they fully split down three lines, eventually becoming the three separate Clans they were today.

Still, these three Clans continued to follow the rules their Ancestors laid down in the past. Every ten million years, they would meet in this way to decide the controller of the world core.

Back when their Clans were one, this competition decided who would be the next Clan Patriarch. Every candidate would gather support for themselves and enter. It tested who had the greatest rallying power and eye for talent, and thus who would be most fit for the position as Head.

Today, the competition rules were practically the same, however this time, the candidates were chosen not by Patriarch hopefuls, but by the three Clans themselves.

In the past, commoners were allowed to observe the proceedings to see the majesty of the next generation’s Patriarch and instill the natural fear and reverence commoners should have toward their rulers. And today, the purpose was pretty much still the same.

Though there was this complex history behind them, Dyon didn’t know of it, nor did he care much about it. He simply lazily appeared at the event like he was asked to, Saru and Lilith both by his sides looking like the delicate flowers they were.

But, judging by how they verbally assaulted him those few weeks ago, they clearly still had their thorns.

After leading Dyon to the holdings of the Nightwell Clan, Crystella looked toward Dyon with a hesitating gaze.

The event was held in a massive arena, already filled to the brim with people of all shapes and sizes. The noise was quite deafening even for an immortal.

The holdings of each Clan was held even further underground. Crystella had to lead Dyon down a long hidden corridor connected to the Nightwell Mansion to bring him here. Apparently, this was a tradition they adopted so that they could keep their trump card members hidden until the final moments. Though, if the other Clans had any sort of competence, they should have solid clues before the event began.

“… Can you… Maybe … Please wear something different…?” Crystella finally managed to eek out her words. She had expected Dyon to lash out at her, but all she received were the giggles of Saru and Lilith in return.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…” Crystella muttered to herself, turning away to lead Dyon through the final doors.

Dyon sighed. “It’s fine. I guess since I’m not just representing myself, I have to do at least this much. But don’t expect me to dress up to take a look at your world core.”

A flash of golden light caused Crystella to look back, only to find that the dignified man in white robes had returned. The golden branch with a singular leave attached to his lapel was especially eye catching.

His tall frame, his wide shoulders, his enticing arrogance and confidence –

Crystella cut off her own thoughts, blushing profusely as she hurriedly turned away, her heartbeat and rushing blood sounding like the rev of an engine to her ears. She hadn’t noticed that Dyon was so tall before… He was even taller than her father…

Taking deep breaths, she finally opened the door, leading the rest of the way.

The members of the Nightwell Clan looked toward the new arrivals all at once. There were only about a dozen present, but to a normal person, it would feel as though the whole world had turned its attention toward them.

However, who exactly was Dyon? He was a man who could rule the mortal plane with a fist before even reaching his 300th birthday. The gazes of those from this small Clan didn’t even faze him.

“Let’s save the elitist commentary, shall we? I’ll be going first.”

Dyon walked past them and up a not-so-subtle flight of stairs.

The bright lights of the arena shone down on him, his two women by his sides. They were no doubt the only three mortals in this underground world.