Two items fell through the portal and onto the King’s lap.

The Dryad’s massive heart, the size of a human head, its structure somewhere between crystalline and organic, radiated a faint luminescence that had persisted even through preservation and storage.

The core bore the unmistakable signature of Disaster-class power. No council member, no matter how determined to deny the facts, could mistake what they were seeing.

The six council members attempting to maintain their dismissal argument went silent.

An individual among the group emitted a sound, not articulated words, but rather a constricted gasp, as the profound implications of the unfolding events overwhelmed their preconceived notions.

"That’s..." another started, then stopped. His eyes tracked from the Dryad core to Jack to King Maelor and back again, processing the implications of the object’s existence.

Queen Morvana’s composure cracked fractionally.

Her gaze intensified upon recognizing the core’s presence. Her hand, previously composed, clenched into a fist. A visible pallor spread across her complexion.

’She knows what this means,’ Tharaxis observed. ’The core’s existence proves the achievement. And if the achievement is real, then all her claims about the boy’s limitations are lies.’

"That core came from the Moonwell dungeon," Jack stated, allowing the object to hang in the air between them. "Harvested from the Disaster-class Dryad that rules that environment. It exists because your son killed that entity. Without assistance. Without support from the Academy or your kingdom."

King Maelor’s hand moved.

Slowly, he reached out toward the Dryad’s heart. His ancient fingers traced the outline of the object without actually touching it, his eyes tracking across its surface with the assessment of someone who had spent centuries understanding magical artifacts.

"If my son cleared a S-rank dungeon and killed a Disaster-class monster," Maelor stated, his voice emerging with a coldness that made every council member in the chamber stiffen, "why was I informed he remains a Rank 300-something failure?"

The silence that followed was absolute.

The council members exchanged glances.

Quick, desperate movements of their eyes that communicated panic. One of them opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Another gripped his seat’s armrest so tightly that his knuckles went white.

Queen Morvana’s face had gone completely white. Not pale, but actually white, the blood drained so thoroughly that for a moment it seemed she might collapse.

"Your Majesty," she started, her voice emerging with a tremor that suggested her carefully maintained composure was threatening to shatter entirely. "The Academy’s ranking system is complex. A single achievement, no matter how impressive, doesn’t automatically translate to rank advancement. There are protocols, standards, documentation requirements..."

"Bring me the Academy Ledger," King Maelor commanded, his voice cutting through Morvana’s explanation like a blade through silk. "The complete record. Every entry regarding my son’s progress. Every ranking assessment. Every documentation of his achievements and failures. Now."

The demand hung in the throne room like an execution order.

No one moved. No one spoke. The six council members who had been attempting to dismiss Jack’s claim were now frozen, their expressions suggesting they understood exactly what was about to be revealed.

One council member, the one who had argued about the Academy’s complex ranking system, opened his mouth repeatedly without producing sound.

His jaw worked silently, his body attempting to respond to a command that required him to either comply with the King’s order or openly defy him.

Another council member stood from his seat, then sat back down almost immediately, as if his nervous system couldn’t decide between flight and submission.

Queen Morvana remained motionless, her white face a mask of barely controlled horror.

Jack watched the cascade of realizations spread across the throne room with the satisfaction of someone observing a carefully laid trap snap shut.

"I can retrieve it for you," Jack stated, his tone conversational despite the profound implications of his offer. "My access to magical systems is extensive. The Academy Ledger would be no more difficult than grabbing a Disaster-class monster and bringing it before you. I could have it for you within minutes."

He paused, allowing the weight of the offer to settle.

"However, I require nothing in advance: no gold, no concessions, no political favors. I require only one thing: that you acknowledge your son openly. That you recognize Rhys as legitimate, as competent, as worthy of the blood he carries."

Jack’s gaze swept across the assembled council and Queen.

"Your traditions require this, do they not? A father’s acknowledgment of a child born outside conventional circumstances? Your kingdom’s law and custom demand that such recognition transform a bastard into an heir as long as they have significant accomplishments."

His attention was fixed on Queen Morvana with the precision of a weapon.

"I suspect your daughters, Your Majesty, have never had to accomplish what your son has accomplished to receive simple recognition from their father. They were born into legitimacy. Your son had to clear an S-rank dungeon alone even to be considered worthy of acknowledgment."

The insult landed exactly as intended.

A public, undeniable rebuke delivered in front of the entire Council and the King himself.

The message was clear: Morvana’s daughters, born of the legitimate union between King and Queen, had required no extraordinary achievement to receive their father’s love.

Yet Rhys, carrying half-elven blood from a human mother, had to become the strongest mage of his generation to earn basic familial recognition.

Morvana’s entire body went rigid.

’End this,’ Emberion’s mental voice demanded. ’Crush the Queen. Show the King what happens when his own household betrays him.’

’Not yet,’ Jack responded internally. ’She’s more useful alive and broken than dead. Maelor is just beginning to understand what’s been happening in his own kingdom.’

King Maelor’s ancient eyes had shifted from Morvana to Jack. The King’s expression remained composed, but something had fundamentally changed in his gaze.

The realization was settling that his own household had been manipulating him, that decisions had been made about his son that he had been unaware of, that everything he believed about Rhys’s capabilities had been a carefully constructed lie.

"You will retrieve the ledger," Maelor commanded, his voice emerging with the weight of absolute authority. "You will retrieve it, and I will know exactly what has been concealed from me."

The six council members who had spent the past minutes attempting to dismiss Jack’s claim looked at each other with expressions suggesting they understood that their careers, if not their lives, had just ended.

Queen Morvana remained standing, her white face a portrait of controlled horror as she processed that her careful manipulation of the Academy’s records had failed.

The illegal Prohibition Notice she had authorized to prevent Rhys from advancing was about to be exposed to the King in the presence of a being powerful enough to destroy fortifications and manifest dragons from his own body.

Tharaxis’s mental presence flickered with grim satisfaction.

’The King begins to see clearly,’ the ancient dragon observed. ’And when he sees the full extent of what has been done in his name, without his knowledge, there will be reckoning.’

’Exactly,’ Jack confirmed. ’Which is precisely why we’re keeping the Queen alive. Maelor will need someone to question. Someone to hold responsible. And Morvana will be far more useful as a living example of what happens when kingdoms attempt to obstruct my plans.’