The first to step forward was Alice. She drifted closer, stopping at a respectful distance.
"Origin Patriarch." Her voice echoed through the void, carried by essence, "The war is accelerating, the Demon Emperor is gathering all the demons. What you are doing now is tearing apart a powerhouse we need for the final war."
Adrian halted, his gaze swept across them, and he recognised every face.
"Empress Alice." His voice carried no warmth, but neither did it hold the cold fury he'd shown Helcarion, "You speak as if this is the first time danger looms over us."
"And when Aethelia sent my clan to die in Drakthor, you did nothing. You all knew it was an execution order, but none acted beyond offering to drag my clan into your territories, so you could own us the same way he tried to."
Alice's jaw tightened; she didn't respond immediately.
Adrian's gaze sharpened, cutting across each emperor in turn, "If you intend to support Aethelia… then I will consider you my enemy."
The words hung in the void like a blade suspended over their throats.
Zerathul of Volkrith stepped forward, "Patriarch, no one here seeks to defend Aethelia's actions, but the war ahead will destroy us all if we fracture further. We must stand together."
Emperor Drazmir added, "You have every right to avenge your clan, but if you tear down an empire while the Demon Emperor gathers a storm, the balance of the galaxy may collapse, including your clan."
Emperor Seranth nodded, "We ask you to consider the greater picture. It is for the coming war; the demons will not wait for us to settle our grudges."
Their words were sincere. None showed arrogance, none attempted coercion. Their empires were teetering between survival and annihilation, and they acted as rulers should, prioritising survival over pride.
Adrian studied them, and he felt the genuine concern from them.
They weren't wrong; the Demon Emperor's gathering forces represented an existential threat.
But they also didn't understand what it meant to be hunted, to watch your people face death because an emperor decided your clan grew too strong.
Then Empress Lysandra of Lexaria stepped forward.
Unlike the others, she didn't position herself between Adrian and Helcarion. Instead, she moved to Adrian's side, her silver-blue robes settling around her as if gravity itself adjusted to her presence.
"Origin Patriarch." She met his gaze directly, "I did not come here to restrain you. I came to stand with you."
The void seemed to still.
She bowed her head, not deeply, but enough. The ruler of Lexaria, one of the most ancient empires in the galaxy, lowered her eyes before a clan less than a year old.
"I am here to declare that Lexaria gives its full support to the Origin Clan and to Adrian Blackwood."
Lysandra was shivering slightly. Her hands, folded before her, trembled despite her control. Because right now, she confirmed one hundred percent that Adrian was the anomaly from astral omen. She'd had doubts before, but with the recent actions, she was certain, and she didn't wish to stand against a storm like Adrian.
The other emperors stiffened.
Shock rippled through them. Lexaria had never aligned itself openly with anyone in its entire history. The empire built on knowledge hoarding, on maintaining neutrality to preserve their archives, on standing apart from galactic conflicts, but now, that empire now declared allegiance.
To see Lysandra take this step overturned countless traditions.
This was unprecedented.
Alice recovered first, though her voice carried new tension, "Origin Patriarch, this does not affect only the war." She glanced at Lysandra, clearly disturbed by the empress's declaration, "Aethelia has connections to ancient cultivators. If they learn of this, even you may face danger."
"Their divine concepts exist above ours, above even the greatest warlords. Their existence stands far beyond what the galaxy understands."
Adrian looked at Alice. From Duranthia, he'd faced no issues. Even Lady Seris had offered him help, which gave him a good impression of them. So he spoke kindly, "You don't need to worry about that, Empress Alice."
He reached into his spatial storage, withdrawing something that made several emperors recoil instinctively.
Arcton's severed head materialised in his hand.
The ancient cultivator's features were frozen in an expression of absolute disbelief.
"The Aethelian Empire's founder was an ancient cultivator." Adrian held the head up, letting the broadcast capture every detail, "And he was the first one to die."
Silence drowned the void.
The emperors stared at him, stunned beyond speech.
To kill a higher existence was not merely unimaginable, it was something outside the entire galactic order. Ancient cultivators stood beyond empires, beyond wars, beyond the normal hierarchy of power. They were forces of nature given consciousness, beings who'd transcended mortal limits through millennia of cultivation.
And Adrian had erased one as casually as crushing an insect.
Only Lysandra didn't feel too much shock, and her trembling had stopped. Instead, a small smile touched her lips.
The astral omen's anomaly would be the one to change the entire galaxy. So what could a mere ancient cultivator do to him? The prophecy had spoken of transformation beyond comprehension, of power that rewrote fundamental rules.
She was happy that she'd shown her support to Adrian even before he revealed this information. In the future, this would mean everything, the difference between being swept aside by the coming storm and riding it to new heights.
She bowed her head slightly, almost reverently, "The Astral Omen has revealed itself."
The words carried across the void like a bell tolling the end of an age.
Hearing the words from Lysandra, realisation hit the other emperors.
Alice's hands rose to her mouth, eyes widening as pieces fell into place, the impossible growth, the fifteen domains, the erasure of an ancient cultivator.
Everyone felt nothing would ever be the same again.
The galaxy had entered a new era. Not gradually, through slow political shifts or technological advancement, but in a single moment, when a young human dragged an emperor across the stars and declared that the old rules no longer applied.
Adrian watched their reactions with calm detachment. He'd never sought to be a prophecy, never wanted to carry the weight of galactic transformation. But the galaxy had forced his hand, had tried to crush him and his people, and now faced the consequences.
He released Arcton's head, letting it drift in the void.
"The Origin Clan will not bow to empires or ancient cultivators." His voice carried absolute certainty, "We will not be owned, controlled, or sacrificed for anyone's convenience."
He gestured toward Helcarion, still bound and broken behind him, "This is what happens to those who try."