As Azrael turned back, he saw a tall, middle-aged man, at least two and a half meters in height standing silently behind him. The man wore a suit of tattered armor, its surface marred by deep cracks, while a few strands of his short, messy gray hair hung loosely over his forehead. From head to toe, the man appeared far removed from a normal human. It was not only his towering height and broad, muscular build; even the very aura surrounding him felt different from that of any person Azrael had ever encountered. Although the man’s presence was calm, almost like a friendly uncle who might live next door, Azrael instinctively sensed that there was nothing simple about him. In fact, a quiet warning echoed in his mind as if this man was even stronger than Zyrek, his grandfather and the most powerful being Azrael had met since arriving in Genesis. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⁂𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾⁂𝔫𝔢𝔱 Among the many striking features of the man, the one that drew Azrael’s attention most were his eyes. They were completely white, devoid of retinas, pupils, or any other markings. Just a pair of blank, eerie white orbs that seemed almost otherworldly. Yet, despite the strangeness that surrounded the man— ’I don’t feel any hostility or danger from him,’ Azrael thought to himself. ’If anything, there’s an odd sense of familiarity when I look at him.’ The tall man fixed his pure white eyes on Azrael, as though he could see him clearly despite their empty appearance, and then suddenly took a single step forward. Azrael stiffened at the movement, fully alert, but what happened next left him completely baffled. The man abruptly lowered himself onto one knee and bowed his head in a gesture of deep respect. "Young Lord," The man greeted. Even with his strong mindset, Azrael felt his thoughts momentarily go blank at the man’s unexpected action and the way he addressed him. ’What the hell?’ He thought inwardly, feeling confused. However, Azrael quickly regained his composure, a slight frown forming on his face. "Who are you?" He asked. The man lifted his head slightly at Azrael’s question and replied in a deep, steady voice, "I am Nalvadir. I used to be the commander of the Legion of the Last Dawn." Question marks might as well have floated around Azrael’s head as his frown deepened. ’Legion of the Last Dawn... What is that?’ He wondered silently before voicing another question. "You called me ’Young Lord’? Are you somehow related to the Thorne family?" "Thorne family?" Nalvadir’s expression briefly flickered with confusion before something seemed to dawn on him. "Thorne... is that the name of Young Lord’s family?" He muttered under his breath, then spoke up more clearly. "No, Young Lord, I am not related to the Thorne family," He said with grave seriousness. "As I said before, I am Nalvadir, the commander of the Legion of the Last Dawn." ’Not related to the Thorne family...’ Azrael’s confusion only deepened at the man’s answer. To Azrael, only those affiliated with his family, people like Lia and the others ever addressed him that way. When Nalvadir first used the title, Azrael had assumed he might somehow be tied to the Thorne family. But from the man’s genuine reaction upon hearing the family’s name, it was clear he knew nothing about them. That only made the way he addressed Azrael all the more perplexing. "If you’re not connected to my family, then why are you calling me Young Lord?" "I can’t answer that question," Nalvadir said, shaking his head slowly. "If I were to answer, I would have to reveal things that must never be spoken. The very moment those truths are uttered, they will draw the attention of powerful beings." Hearing the man’s answer, Azrael stared at him, his confusion deepening as he had no idea what the man meant. Seeing the puzzled look on Azrael’s face, Nalvadir hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Young Lord, you possess an ancient relic—the pocket watch, don’t you?" A chill ran down Azrael’s spine at the sudden mention of the pocket watch as it was an item he had never told anyone about. He instinctively took a step back, his gaze sharpening into a cold glare. "How do you know about the pocket watch?" Nalvadir ignored Azrael’s reaction and asked again, "Has the pocket watch ever activated on its own in the past?" The question instantly brought to Azrael’s mind the memory of the Galactic Eclipse, the mysterious event that had occurred when he first arrived in Genesis. At that time, it had been the pocket watch that protected him from the strange phenomenon, the one that felt as though some unfathomable presence was searching for something. As the memory surfaced, Azrael’s pupils contracted sharply and Nalvadir’s earlier words echoed in his mind. ’If I answer your question, it will attract the attention of some powerful beings...’ A cold breath escaped his lips as his eyes narrowed. ’Does he mean that the being responsible for the Galactic Eclipse will somehow hear us if he answers my question?’ The thought sent a shiver through him and he looked at Nalvadir with narrowed eyes. "Who... No! What are you?" He asked in a serious voice. Although he already had a guess in his mind, he still needed to hear it from him. Nalvadir looked at Azrael for a few seconds before finally replying in a low, measured voice. "I am what the people of this era call an Ender." Although Azrael had half expected the answer, after all, he had encountered this man after sitting upon the black throne that was connected to the Enders, and he had heard the ominous sound of chains rattling in his mind just a moments ago, he was still deeply shaken when Nalvadir admitted it aloud. At the same time, another thought crept into Azrael’s mind, one that made his throat go dry. ’He is an Ender, yet he calls me Young Lord. Does that mean...’ The notion was so absurd that Azrael hesitated before asking in a slightly unsteady voice, "Am I... also an Ender?" Nalvadir’s eyes widened slightly at the question before he quickly shook his head. "No, Young Lord. You are not an Ender." Azrael froze at response, stunned by the immediate denial, and his confusion grew even deeper. ’If I’m not an Ender, then why does he keep calling me Young Lord...’ He thought with growing frustration and was about to question Nalvadir again when suddenly, a series of glowing notifications appeared before his eyes. (You have successfully absorbed the blood source energy of ???) (Your bloodline has successfully been simulated) ---) Bloodline: ??? (Eternal Grade) (Unawakened)