Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points! - Chapter 167

Chapter 167: • The Birth of Vael Bloodbane
The heavy doors of the imperial chamber creaked open as a messenger rushed out.

Illena cradled the child against her chest, her fingers tracing the damp curve of his tiny head. His silken silver hair, just like his father’s, clung to his scalp, wet.

His flushed cheeks pressed against her bare skin. Despite the ordeal she had endured, a weak smile could be seen on her face, her emerald eyes—still fever-bright—locked onto the fragile life in her arms.

“He’s perfect,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and cracked from hours of screaming.

Selvia dipped a cloth into a basin of warm, herb-infused water, wringing it out before gently dabbing the Empress’s sweat-slicked brow.

“He is my lady, he is the future of this empire.”

The midwives moved, their hands stripping the soiled linens from the bed, replacing them with fresh, warm sheets. A maid approached cautiously, carrying a tray with a goblet of honeyed wine and a bowl of thick, nourishing broth.

Selvia took the tray and knelt beside the Empress, bringing the goblet to her lips.

“Drink, Your Majesty. It will strengthen you.”

Illena barely had the energy to lift her head, but she allowed Selvia to tip the goblet just enough for the sweet liquid to coat her parched throat. The warmth of it spread through her, dulling the lingering pain just slightly.

The prince let out a soft, instinctive whimper against her skin, his tiny fingers twitching against her chest. Selvia reached out, brushing a gentle finger over his small, curled hand. He was impossibly delicate, but already his lungs carried the strength of his lineage.

“He will need a name,” Selvia said quietly, watching as the Empress traced her fingertips playfully across the child’s forehead.

Illena let out a slow breath. “Vael.”

Selvia nodded. “One who lives with strength and valor. It’s a wonderful name, your majesty. Prince Vael.”

Before either woman could say more, the chamber doors were thrown open once more, this time not by a mere attendant.

Arkanos strode in, he was clad in his formal robes, though they were disheveled, as if he had barely stopped to dress properly before coming. His emerald eyes, sharp and searching, landed immediately on the woman in the bed—then on the bundle in her arms.

His eyes widened slightly.

Selvia rose to her feet, stepping aside as Arkanos closed the distance between them in mere strides. He stopped at the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto the small, swaddled prince in Illena’s arms.

The baby stirred, his tiny face scrunching as he let out a small, breathy whimper.

Illena looked up at her husband, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she lifted the child slightly, offering him.

Arkanos hesitated.

Selvia noticed the rare flicker of uncertainty in the Emperor’s expression—the man who had the empire at his feet, now stood still as stone before the newborn heir to his empire.

Illena’s lips curved in the faintest hint of amusement. “Your son, my love. As we agreed, his name is Vael.”

That seemed to pull him from his trance. Slowly, carefully, he reached out, his large hands dwarfing the fragile form of his son as he took the newborn from her arms.

The child barely reacted at first, then his tiny fingers twitched, as if reaching for the warmth of the father who now held him.

Arkanos stared down at the baby, his expression was awe, excitement and curiosity all in one. The weight of it—of fatherhood—settled over him like an unspoken vow.

Then, finally, a smirk ghosted across his lips.

“He’s small,” he remarked, his voice lower, softer than usual.

Illena let out a tired chuckle. “He won’t be for long. Give him a year or two and he’ll start running all over the place.”

Arkanos shifted, adjusting his hold on the child as a proud smile graced his lips, lifting up the child a bit. The baby blinked up at him with glassy silver eyes before letting out a soft yawn, his tiny mouth parting.

For a long moment, Arkanos simply stared at the tiny life in his hands. Then, slowly, his lips parted, and a deep, hearty laugh rumbled from his chest. It was rare—so rare to hear such pure joy from the Emperor of Bloodbane. But now, there was no mistaking it.

His laugh was unrestrained, filled with pride as he lifted his son slightly higher.

“Vael!” he called the name out, his voice echoing off the chamber walls, carrying through the halls of the palace like a declaration to the heavens.

“Today, you have made me the happiest man in this empire!”

Selvia, standing nearby, tensed slightly, her hands instinctively reaching out as she eyed the newborn prince. “Your Majesty, perhaps… you shouldn’t raise him so high.” Her voice was careful, yet held a touch of concern.

Illena, still reclined in the bed, giggled softly at the sight. Her golden eyes twinkled with amusement despite her exhaustion. “Don’t worry, Selvia,” she reassured softly. “He’s not going to drop him.”

Arkanos glanced down at his wife, catching the playful gleam in her gaze. She tilted her head at him, feigning a pout.

“And what about me, my Emperor?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Have you already forgotten who brought him into this world?”

The smirk on Arkanos’ lips deepened, and his grip on Vael instinctively tightened—not out of fear, but out of protectiveness.

“Of course not,” he murmured. “You, too, have made me the happiest man alive.”

With that, he stepped closer, lowering himself to one knee before her bedside. One hand still cradling his son, the other reached for her, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face before leaning in to kiss her.

When he pulled away, a soft chime echoed in his ears. At first, he almost ignored it, his focus entirely on his family. But then—

—

〘 ❖ System Notification ❖ 〙

〘 Your heir has been successfully registered. ❖ 〙

〘 ❖ Status Window ❖ 〙

—————————————

〘 Name: Vael Bloodbane ❖ 〙

〘 Race: Half High elf Half Halvorn ❖ 〙

〘 Title: Crown Prince of the Bloodbane Empire ❖ 〙

〘 Class: N/A ❖ 〙

〘 Rank: S+ ❖ 〙

〘 Level: 1 ❖ 〙

〘 Unique Bloodline Trait: Silver Dragon’s Descent (Incomplete) ❖ 〙

〘 Health: 500/500 ❖ 〙

〘 Mana: 250/250 ❖ 〙

〘 Strength: 10 ❖ 〙

〘 Agility: 12 ❖ 〙

〘 Vitality: 15 ❖ 〙

〘 Intelligence: 5 ❖ 〙

〘 Magic Affinity: 20 ❖ 〙

〘 Skills: ❖ 〙

• ??? (Locked)

• ??? (Locked)

• ??? (Locked)

—————————————

Arkanos’ emerald eyes flickered over the glowing screen. His grip on his son remained steady, but his expression sharpened.

“S-rank potential from birth, I might have a genius in my hands,” he mused. “And his bloodline… Imperial Dragon’s Descent.”

Illena frowned slightly. “Is that… good?”

Arkanos let out a low chuckle. “Good?” He glanced down at the tiny bundle, his gaze filled with something between amusement and expectation.

“It’s beyond exceptional.”

Illena smiled, pressing a soft kiss to their son’s forehead. “Then, we shall wait and see,” she whispered. “No matter what, he is ours.”

Arkanos nodded, his gaze lingering on the status window for a moment longer before it faded away. His son’s full potential remained locked for now, but that would change.

One day, Vael Bloodbane would shake the empire itself.

….

….

A few weeks had passed.

The sun bled over the horizon, streaking the sky in hues of molten gold and smoldering crimson, as though even the heavens understood that today marked the beginning of something monstrous.

Castrellon, the beating heart of the Bloodbane Empire, had been preparing for this day for weeks—silk banners snapped in the wind from the towering spires of the Imperial Palace.

The city below churned as nobles dressed in embroidered finery poured in from every corner of the empire, servants scurrying around them like nervous rats.

Merchants lined the streets, hawking everything from roasted boar meat to commemorative pendants emblazoned with the imperial sigil.

And, of course, there were the soldiers—hundreds of them, gleaming in their armor, stationed at every major street and palace entrance.

They were there for crowd control, certainly. But more than that, they were a reminder.

A reminder that the Bloodbane Empire did not tolerate disorder. Not on an ordinary day, and certainly not on the day its future was being announced.

In the grand hall of the impiral palace.

The nobility had gathered in full force, and oh did they look impressive. Or at least, they certainly wanted to.

Dukes in their pearl-threaded cloaks, gold-tasseled tunics, and enchanted gemstone rings so oversized they could double as knuckle-dusters.

The air in the grand hall was thick. Conversations were murmured, careful, filled with veiled curiosity and unspoken speculation.

Every noble, from the highest duke to the most minor viscount, had gathered here not just to witness the official presentation of the Crown Prince but to measure, to judge, to weigh the significance of this moment.

At the far end of the hall, on an elevated dais, the imperial throne loomed. Arkanos Bloodbane stood before it, clad in ceremonial black and gold robes, the heavy fur-lined mantle draped over his shoulders.

Usually he had this intense air around him, with that signature stoic expression on his face.

But today, his expression displayed something different. Not just power, not just authority.

There was pride, unshaken and absolute, in the way he held the small, swaddled figure in his arms.

Some could even say it was a bit smug.