Devouring Dragon Heir-Chapter 65: Ch Conclave of Youth - 1

Rose could only nod meekly, utterly flustered, her resistance crumbling under his confident gaze and physical proximity.

She was trapped, but not entirely unwillingly. Klaus began to move, carrying her across the polished ballroom floor, his steps precise and powerful, guiding her with an effortless grace that belied his earlier drunken demeanour.

They moved as one, a seamless, flowing unit, the centre of all attention.

They were so close that their breaths grazed each other, the warmth of his body radiating through her gown.

Rose’s heart beat so fast that she thought she could almost faint. The dance was scandalous, yet undeniably captivating.

The Paragons, from their elevated vantage point, observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

They just shrugged it off, a collective unspoken understanding that this was merely the young generation displaying their quirks.

They continued their discussions, letting the younger ones sort out their social dramas, as long as it didn’t escalate to something serious. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

Meanwhile, three people in the room were boiling with suppressed rage.

They were Edward Ravenstein and his son, James, for painfully obvious reasons. Their humiliation was complete.

The third was Julie, who stood with Elara and Arthur, her angelic face now contorted in a silent snarl, her delicate hands clenching into tight fists at her sides.

"This scoundrel! This shameless scoundrel!

Let him come into my grasp!,

I’ll make him dance every day."

She shrieked internally, her Spirit Queen fury reawakening with full force.

The sight of Klaus dancing so intimately with another woman, so carelessly, filled her with a possessive rage that threatened to shatter her composure.

Poor Klaus. If only he knew the tempest he had just unleashed with a simple, alcohol-free dance.

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A few minutes later...

Klaus and Rose’s mesmerizing, impromptu dance had finally concluded, ending not with a polite bow and curtsy, but with a lingering, almost scandalous embrace before Klaus gently, yet firmly, released her.

A thunderous applause, a mixture of genuine appreciation and titillated shock, erupted from the guests.

Klaus had carried Rose too elegantly, too confidently, turning an awkward social faux pas into a captivating spectacle.

He had, in that single audacious act, officially become the undisputed "ladykiller" of the evening, a title he neither sought nor cared for.

Rose Blackwood, her face carrying a furious blush, had immediately rushed to the other side of the vast hall, attempting to hide her shy, flustered expression amidst a small cluster of her family’s retinue.

This public display of her rare shyness only served to make the chemistry between the two even more ravishing and talked about in public.

Julie, from her vantage point with Elara and Arthur, had held her anger somehow, though her hands remained tightly clenched, her knuckles white.

A strange, almost painful longing to dance the same way with Klaus, to be held with such effortless grace, was now infecting her heart with a foreign emotion she hadn’t experienced in millennia.

Klaus, meanwhile, oblivious to the emotional tempest he had stirred, had returned to his usual place by the wine table.

He continued sipping the fine vintage, his red eyes calmly scrolling through the various delicacies laid out on the elaborate display.

"Dang!!" A loud, resonant bell suddenly sounded, cutting through the lingering murmurs of the banquet hall.

Immediately, a well-trained butler, standing on a raised platform near the main entrance, announced, his voice amplified to reach every corner of the vast space.

"Dear esteemed guests, it is now time for the Conclave of Youth! Please make your way towards the arena!"

The hall stirred immediately.

Everyone began to move from their usual seats and conversational groups, and a collective shift happened towards the designated area.

The energy in the room transformed from polite social banter to one of focused anticipation.

Klaus, still holding his wine glass, casually walked towards his grandpa, William, who was already rising from his seat at the Paragon’s table.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the hall, Julie, her expression now neutral, walked towards Magnus.

It was a common sight, every heir or aspiring youth present, regardless of their family’s standing, walked towards their respective guardians or family heads, forming cohesive units that would soon proceed to the arena.

As the guests flowed out of the main hall, moving towards a set of grand double doors, a line of stern-faced security personnel appeared.

The media, which had been granted access to the banquet hall for the public spectacle, was not allowed to enter the arena.

This was a strict protocol maintained by all Legacy Families for various, crucial reasons.

The families did not want to expose the true strengths and weaknesses of their youth to the public.

The abilities and combat styles of future paragons were closely guarded secrets.

Furthermore, every guest who was unrelated to the top ten factions, including the seven Legacy Families, the Hunter’s Association, the Guardian Academy,

and a few other select, ancient groups, was also not allowed to enter, ensuring maximum privacy for the internal showcase of power.

The crowd moved, and Klaus followed his grandpa silently, his senses fully alert now despite the lingering effects of the wine.

He noted the subtle shifts in mana from the bodyguards.

William came close to Klaus, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low, teasing.

"I see you’ve found your mate already, eh? Such a public display. Never thought I’d see the daughter of Blackwood blush like that."

"Huh? What, old man?" Klaus, still somewhat high on alcohol, didn’t fully register William’s teasing words.

His mind was still floating in a pleasant haze, disconnected from the social implications of his recent actions. He was focused on the wine’s lingering taste and the upcoming "conclave."

"TSK, drunkard," William said with a wider smile, shaking his head gently.

His amusement was evident. "I hope you don’t get your ass kicked under the influence of alcohol, boy. These young bloods can be quite fierce, especially when their pride is on the line."

Klaus, however, simply looked at William, his red eyes holding a peculiar, distant glint.

"Don’t worry, old man," Klaus said, his tone still a bit trippy, the words slightly slurred but undeniably confident.

"I will kick everyone’s ass." The declaration was made with absolute certainty, a simple statement of fact from his perspective.

[Ding! The detected host might need to engage in a fight soon. Poison Body activating.]

Suddenly, a jolt coursed through Klaus. The System, interpreting his declaration as an immediate need for peak performance, without seeking his input, unilaterally activated his Poison Body skill.

The lingering effects of the alcohol, which Klaus had been carefully savouring, were instantly, ruthlessly metabolized.

The pleasant haze evaporated, replaced by a crystalline clarity that snapped his senses into razor-sharp focus.

"Oh no, you f-f-f... You damn bastard!" Klaus mentally called out to the System.

His posture and walking style, subtly affected by the alcohol moments before, suddenly changed, becoming sharper, more precise, though the details were hard for an external observer to notice without extreme scrutiny.

[The host should recall what he did.] The System’s voice was flat, unfeeling, devoid of any sympathy for his sudden sobriety.

Klaus focused, his newly cleared mind replaying the last few minutes.

The dance with Rose.

His audacious act of lifting her.

The intense proximity.

Her startled yelp, her furious blush. The collective shocked faces of the guests.

The full weight of his actions, unclouded by alcohol, crashed down on him.

A wave of genuine embarrassment, a raw, human emotion, washed over him.

"W-T-F," he muttered internally, a silent groan of mortification.

"I hope she doesn’t misunderstand. This is going to be a headache. Why did I even let the alcohol affect me like that? This is highly bothersome."

His ’Buddha Incarnate’ trait, while providing emotional control, didn’t negate the capacity for embarrassment when confronted with his own socially questionable actions. It simply allowed him to process and move past it quickly.

The guests got seated promptly around the open-air arena of the Blackwood family.

It was a vast, circular structure, reminiscent of ancient Roman coliseums in its sheer scale, yet incorporating a sophisticated blend of medieval design elements and cutting-edge technology.

The tiered seating rose steeply around a central, perfectly circular battleground.

The facility incorporated powerful, high-tech energy barriers and dampeners, invisible fields designed to keep the most destructive battle inside the arena and prevent any mana leakage or collateral damage to the seated guests.

A formidable line of stern-faced bodyguards, all clad in the signature black and silver uniform of the Blackwood House, also appeared, forming an additional human barrier around the inner perimeter of the arena, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

Soon, a man in his thirties entered the arena platform, striding confidently to the center.

From the looks of it, he appeared to be quite an influential member of the Blackwood family, perhaps a senior official or a family member.

He was impeccably dressed, his movements authoritative.

As soon as he appeared on the elevated platform set up near the entrance of the arena, the murmurs of the crowd gradually subsided.

He waited patiently, his gaze sweeping over the assembled elite, until a complete silence fell.

Then, his voice, calm and commanding, resonated through the arena. "May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen."

He paused, allowing his words to settle.

"This year’s ’Conclave of Youth’ is being proudly hosted by the Blackwood family. This day was specifically chosen for this event, as almost all of you would have been present for the banquet of our young miss, Rose."

He offered a small, polite bow in the direction where Rose was currently seated, earning a nod from her.

The ’Conclave of Youth ’ was an event conducted every year, a tradition spanning decades, primarily designed to showcase the talents and awakened abilities of the younger generation from every major power across the globe.

It was a critical event for assessing the future power dynamics.

This time, the Blackwood family was the host, and they had strategically incorporated the event with Rose’s debut banquet ceremony.

Whether it was a genuine gesture of celebration or a calculated strategy to subtly show off Rose’s newfound status to the entire world, only they knew for certain.

The combination certainly amplified the event’s significance.

"By the unanimous approval of the Ten Paragons," the man continued, his voice now taking on a more formal tone,

"The rules of this event are being changed this time."

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