The Dragon Emperor stood proudly near the edge of the platform, regal and unshaken—but Pyris could see the truth beneath the scale and silk. The man was under the influence of Zorynthar, the Dragon God. Not possessed. Not enslaved. But guided, his fate-thread wrapped in draconic sigils laced with divine authority.
Pyris didn't need the system's appraisal anymore—his Fate Nemesis Eye saw it all.
And it wasn't just him. Everyone here bore some mark. Some corrupt. Some tragic. Some neutral, like Zalaria Serenova, known to most as Madam Serenova, the quiet puppeteer of the commerce world. Her thread shimmered with soft dark and white of elegance and danger held in velvet gloves. She was harmless—for now. But Pyris didn't trust harmless.
He scanned them all at once, the entire summit of the mortal realm powerhouses, and exhaled with a scoff.
