The ancestral hall of the Kilvis Clan lay steeped in shadows, the flickering soulfire torches casting eerie reflections upon the obsidian table. Around it sat the clan's most formidable figures, their oppressive auras intertwining like colliding storms.
At the head of the table, Patriarch Charles Kilvis sat with regal poise, his sharp black beard framing a face that bore an uncanny resemblance to Kaal's. His fingers steepled before him, he spoke, his voice smooth yet edged with steel.
"The final round of the True Dragon Competition will be a duel tournament," he announced, his dark eyes sweeping across the assembled elders. "At least, that is what we have told the other sects."
A weighted silence followed.
Grand Elder William, seated at Charles's left, smirked into his tea, the steam curling around his knowing expression. He, like the others, understood the true intent behind the Patriarch's words.
