Wings Of Deception
Chapter 56 – Brewing Storm

Chapter 56: Chapter 56 – Brewing Storm

Inside the summit hall...

After King Frassure Mufasa’s announcement, the atmosphere grew heavy with thought. The guests murmured among themselves, exchanging whispers and wary glances. Many began to consider the weight of what had just been said. If what the king claimed was true, joining this Beast Alliance was more than a good call—it was survival.

There was no reason to believe he was lying. Yet, for most of them, such a decision couldn’t be made on impulse. They would need to return, consult their clans, weigh the risks, and seek agreement before committing.

While they brooded and calculated, one voice rose above the contemplative noise.

John raised his cup, smiling, and declared without a hint of hesitation that the Sky Dominating Clan would join the Beast Alliance. His tone was light, casual even, but firm. A smug smile hung on his face like a flag, and it pricked at the nerves of several present—especially those who already considered him an eyesore.

It wasn’t just what he said—but how easily he said it.

While others were trapped in layers of political deliberation, John’s carefree commitment, his blatant independence, made their own hesitation feel like cowardice. That stung.

Some couldn’t keep their irritation hidden.

Denial Aurora, third son of the Blazing Crow Clan of the West, sneered and stood. "You? Joining the Beast Alliance?" He scoffed loudly, eyes blazing with disdain. "Who gave you the right? You’re nothing but a garden bird. A damn mockingbird! I’m a crow—we stand higher on the food chain. Know your place."

Though everyone remained in humanoid form, the animal tattoos on their foreheads revealed their true lineage. And over John’s brow, unmistakably, was the sigil of a gray mockingbird.

Another voice chimed in, deeper, ruder.

Moram Dingko, a hulking representative of the Bull Clan, cracked his knuckles as he stood. "We don’t know who the hell you are. We don’t care either. What makes you think you belong here—sitting among us as if you’re our equal?" His eyes narrowed, full of threat. "Walk out. Before I stop being nice."

From the high dais, King Frassure Mufasa gave a sideways glance toward his brother, Damien Mufasa, silently urging him to step in.

"What?" Damien responded telepathically, sensing his brother’s intent.

Frassure replied, "Aren’t you going to help your friend?"

Damien let out a faint mental chuckle. "Help him? Brother, I’ve already helped him—by not stopping what’s about to happen. This is a summit to form an alliance, not a playground for insults and provocations. I held back earlier, stopped things from getting ugly. But they’re still poking the lion."

"Lion? We’re the lion and he is not." Frassure corrected.

"Metaphor brother. Metaphor." Damien glanced at him seriously.

He paused, his thoughts turning dark.

"Let them face the thunder. And hear me, brother—don’t interfere when John responds. Not with your words, not with your power. Not even with your pity. He’s shown his sincerity, pledged himself to this alliance. That makes him one of us now. Let him answer these fools in his own way."

There was a hard finality in Damien’s words.

Frassure leaned back slightly, lips tightening. Only he, among all present, truly knew the storm Damien was keeping leashed inside. Among the three lion brothers, Damien was the most dangerous—both in their past lives, and now. While Frassure was the tactician, a master manipulator who played both weak and strong like notes in a symphony... and Fanny was a righteous hothead, ever ready to charge... Damien was the blade hidden in shadow.

And if even Damien respected John’s restraint, then whatever came next was something to witness—very, very carefully.

"I understand," Frassure Mufasa muttered under his breath, deciding to trust his brother’s judgment. He wasn’t here to play favorites. Everyone in this room was his guest. If conflict arose between them, it was theirs to settle.

John had half-expected Damien to step in, maybe crack a joke or calm the situation with a few sharp words.

But nothing of the sort happened.

And that silence? It said everything.

It was Damien’s way of telling him, Stop holding back.

Let them see. Let them know.

Let them be ripped from the comfortable little bubble they’d built around themselves and face the storm they so arrogantly mocked.

A smirk slowly crawled onto John’s face. He hadn’t come here to start trouble. But if trouble insisted on walking up and slapping him, then he would answer with thunder.

This wasn’t just about pride anymore.

This was a golden opportunity—to showcase his strength, to plant the name of the Sky Dominating Clan into their minds and carve it into their fear. It was time for these so-called elites to learn the difference between arrogance and power.

More representatives from the Blazing Crow Clan and the Bull Clan rose to their feet, their voices turning more venomous.

"You don’t belong here!"

"This isn’t a place for lesser beasts!"

"You want to be part of us? Go chirp somewhere else!"

Their words grew louder, fingers jabbing toward him like spears. Demands came fast.

"Leave. Now."

"Before someone makes you."

The hall, once quiet and contemplative, now simmered with hostility aimed at one man—John.

But he didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch. The smile never left his face.

If anything, it widened.

Perched calmly on John’s shoulder, Bubble, the unpredictable sparrow, had been quietly enduring the storm of insults. She had done so only because her master asked her to—insisted, even.

But she wasn’t fooled by his smile.

It wasn’t the smile of a pushover.

It was the smile of a storm held at bay.

And she knew exactly what that meant.

Still, it wasn’t her place to question it. She didn’t want to.

But even patience had its limits.

Her small body trembled slightly as anger rose within her. Her wings fluttered once, twice.

"Forgive me, Master," she chirped, her voice sharp like a needle of ice. "I can’t hold my anger anymore."

Then she opened her beak.

A quiet hum echoed through the hall, unnatural and eerie.

Watery bubbles—glistening, translucent orbs—began to form beneath the ceiling, growing in number, spreading like a silent mist of vengeance across the towering chamber.

Denial Aurora snarled, still riding high on arrogance. "Why aren’t you leaving yet?!"

He never saw it coming.

One of the floating bubbles detached and fell—fast, silent, merciless.

It enveloped Denial in an instant.

"What—!?" he gasped, thrashing wildly.

Too late.

His limbs struck the shimmering walls of the bubble, but they bounced back as if hitting soft iron. His yells were muffled. His powers nullified. His freedom—gone.

Helpless.

Bubble, still perched calmly, chirped again.

The captured Denial rose into the air, hovering like a trapped fly.

All eyes turned.

Even the boldest among them froze, their earlier jeers caught in their throats.

John raised his cup and took a long, unhurried sip.

Then, with deliberate grace, he set it down.

His gaze swept across the hall, calm and sharp as a blade drawn beneath moonlight.

"Good job, Bubble," he said smoothly. "It’s time."

The atmosphere shifted—suddenly heavier, charged. The tension snapped like a pulled cord.

Members of the Blazing Crow Clan rose to their feet, their chairs screeching back with sharp echoes.

Their tattoos flared—fiery crow emblems glowing like brands on their foreheads.

"You dare!" one of them bellowed, veins bulging with fury.