[Sirius has fought several battles and has reached the limit. Would Host like to upgrade your pet beast Sirius into an Exalted-ranked beast? Yes or No?]
“Sirius, follow me.”
Asher’s voice was calm, but it held an undercurrent of finality. Sirius, ever loyal, padded after him through the dungeon gates, his silver-blue fur rippling with each silent step. They emerged into the sunlight, and the moment the servants caught sight of the beast beside him, their reactions were swift and instinctive—wide eyes, halted steps, and hands trembling under trays and baskets. One man nearly dropped a crate of fruit; another froze, a broom in mid-sweep.
But then Asher did something they would carry with them for the rest of their lives—etched into memory like a scar.
‘Do it.’
The words weren’t spoken aloud, but Sirius heard them clearly.
The air changed.
Sirius raised his head and let out a thunderous howl that echoed across the halls like a call to the heavens. Light exploded from within him—a radiant golden brilliance that washed over the courtyard like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just bright. It was divine in intensity, dazzling, consuming. The world stood still.
Bones cracked, shifted, and stretched with deep, reverberating snaps. Sirius’s frame expanded rapidly, growing not just larger but grander—each movement a marvel of grace and raw power. His limbs thickened, muscles rippling like coiled steel beneath his gleaming fur. Veins of silver light danced across his body as his fur lengthened, becoming richer in hue, woven with deep streaks of gold and black that shimmered like starlight.
At thirty feet, Asher almost relaxed. But Sirius didn’t stop.
He grew taller. Broader. His mane unfurled like a celestial banner, flowing with invisible winds. His claws hardened into glinting onyx, and his tail thickened with fur, dancing in unfelt winds. His eyes blazed like twin crimson moons—molten, ancient, and wild.
When the transformation finally ceased at 50 feet, what stood before Asher was no longer a beast in the conventional sense. Sirius exuded an air of something beyond mortal comprehension—not ancient like a god, but ancient like the mountains—enduring, unmoved, and eternal. He was a force of the Tenaria itself.
Even the bravest guards took involuntary steps back, breath caught in their throats. Some dropped to their knees, not from worship—but from sheer, primal awe.
Asher stepped forward, his voice quiet.
“…Sirius.”
The Exalted beast turned his head slightly, lowering it just enough for Asher to meet his gaze. There was pride there. Recognition. And a quiet promise of loyalty—one that would burn brighter than any vow spoken aloud.
This beast, from snout to tail, spanned nearly a hundred feet in length. Its paws alone were as large as a carriage.
Sirius’s eyes, glowing and vast, rivaled shields in size. No human in the stronghold reached higher than his lower shin.
Had this been Earth, Asher might have thought he’d just summoned a kaiju-tier creature—one that could move like a phantom, breathe twin elements, and reduce almost anything to ruin with sheer mass alone.
“Sirius,” Asher murmured, his voice tinged with a bitter pride, “it looks like you can’t stay in castles anymore. Go. The mountains are yours now.”
He smiled faintly as he said it. This was still the same beast—the same wolf he rode into battle against Baron Snow. But he was no longer just a beast.
Sirius now stood long among monsters. At this size, it would take an Elder Dragon to bring him to his knees.
Sirius stared at his master for a long, unreadable moment. Then, without a sound, he moved. One blink, and he was gone, vanishing from the stronghold like a living shadow.
A terrible cold swept in with his departure. Fog rose like ghostly smoke, curling through Nineveh’s walls and blanketing the world in grey.
Asher narrowed his eyes, barely able to see past ten feet.
“Make sure everyone has coats,” he ordered. “This fog might last a while.”
“Yes, Your Lordship!” the servants answered, rushing to obey, their figures quickly swallowed by the mist.
Then came the sound of hurried footsteps—Kelvin and several domain officials emerged, all desk-bound men who handled the inner matters of the dominion.
Asher spotted Kelvin just as he got close.
“My Lord,” Kelvin breathed, eyes wide with disbelief, “that beast I saw through the window… was that Sirius?”
“It was,” Asher replied evenly.
“This castle is five storeys tall, and yet his head reached the ceiling! I’ve never heard of an Ashbourne beast growing that massive.”
Asher chuckled, quiet and low. “We have a guardian now. When I march the troops west, Sirius will remain—he’ll protect the Great Dividing Wall.”
Kelvin’s expression darkened slightly. “House Wyvern lies before the Dukedom of Nubis. Even if you take the highways, it runs through their lands. You don’t want to take that route… so I assume you mean to pass through the mountain path?”
Asher patted his shoulder. “Leave the war to me.”
He took two steps forward, then suddenly stopped.
“Kelvin.”
The name, spoken without warmth, made Kelvin tense.
“M-My Lord?” he said, his voice tight, his heart quickening.
“I’ve turned a blind eye to many of your actions—because I saw you as a father. But don’t take my mercy for granted.”
Asher’s tone had hardened, cold and cutting.
“Stand with Sapphira. No matter the cost. If words don’t work, use swords. You fear battles, Kelvin. Don’t.”
Asher walked away, his boots vanishing into the mist with each step.
Kelvin stood frozen. His heart was racing, and not from fear—but from the weight of truth.
He had been too passive.
Too willing to act only when convenient.
He’d skirted rules, twisted minor laws, taken liberties—none of which ever earned him more than a raised brow.
Now, for the first time, he saw it.
Truly saw it.
He inhaled slowly. Straightened.
His back squared, shoulders firmed, and in his eyes, a quiet light flickered to life.
‘I see.’
He turned and walked into the fog with purpose.
Maybe it was time he acted like a true servant of House Ashbourne.
A Salvatore.
Change wouldn’t come easy. But he would try. He had to. Rumors surrounding Sapphira’s unborn child were already festering.
Whispers spoke of fae blood, of unnatural wings. Of whether the child should even be considered the heir.
But Kelvin knew the truth: these weren’t born of concern. They were born of envy—spiteful wishes from highborn women who once had Asher’s favor… and wanted it back.
Most of them had been nobodies before House Ashbourne’s rise. It was Asher’s victories that elevated them—gave their husbands power, lands, and coin.
Now, emboldened by comfort and rank, they dared to question the one woman Asher had chosen without hesitation.
Sapphira hadn’t asked for their favor. She didn’t need it. She only needed Asher—and that alone threatened them.
Kelvin’s voice was low and firm as he murmured to the empty fog, “Fish them out. Give a stern warning.”
A silence followed… until several shadowy figures burst from his form, flitting into the mist like spirits loosed from a cage.
He added one more command: “The minting of Ashbourne coins is about to begin. Anyone who dares conspire against the Duke’s wife… their coins will not be exchanged.”
It was a declaration—and a warning.
This was no longer the House of the hopeful. It was the House of the ruling. And in the House of Ashbourne, mercy had limits.
A/N:
Hey readers! First off, thank you for pointing it out—and you’re absolutely right. There was a repeated block of about 200 words near the end of the chapter.
That repetition was unintentional and a complete oversight during the final editing pass. I’m truly sorry for the slip-up.
The actual word count after removing the repetition is 1,244 words, not the inflated count you originally saw. I appreciate your patience and sharp eyes—and I’m especially grateful to those of you who continue to give feedback. Mistakes like this help me improve, and I’ll be more careful moving forward.
Thanks again for reading and supporting the story!
—Author