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Fathoran raised a hand, silencing him. His eyes, a piercing blue, surveyed the scene with an intensity that made everyone present shudder. The patriarch's gaze seemed to penetrate their very souls, unveiling secrets they didn't even know they held.

"Oh, but I think it's exactly what it seems," he said, his tone casual as if commenting on the weather. "A group of children playing with powers they barely comprehend."

The Summoners suddenly realized that the shadows were solid, taking the form of a shiny black stone that surrounded all seven of them. The material a manifestation of power beyond their understanding.

"No!" Raelar shouted, trying to break free. But it was useless. The black stone enveloped them almost completely, leaving only their faces exposed, immobilizing them in an unbreakable grip.

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the muffled gasps of the trapped Summoners. Fathoran approached slowly, his eyes scanning the faces of the city's leaders. His movements were deliberate, each step echoing in the silent chamber.

"For generations," he began, his voice low but clear, "we have controlled this city. Even before any of you were born, we have made difficult decisions, unimaginable sacrifices. And now, what do I see? Our most powerful leaders, my family, fight among themselves like children in a playground."

He stopped in front of each of the trapped Summoners, his penetrating eyes evaluating them. The weight of his gaze was almost physical, pressing down on them with the force of a century. "All of you, so sure of your power, of your understanding of the world. But you are nothing but fools in the eyes of the gods."

Fathoran approached Selene, his face inches from hers. The proximity was suffocating, his aura of power overwhelming. "Tell me, granddaughter, what would you be willing to do to survive? To protect our own?"

The question hung in the air, laden with a meaning that went beyond words. Selene, unable to respond, could only look on with a mixture of fear and fascination.

Fathoran stepped back, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "Ah, but those are questions for another time, aren't they?"

"Well," he finally said, his casual voice contrasting with the tension in the air. "Does anyone want to explain to me what's going on here?"

For a moment, no one responded. Then, as if a dam had broken, everyone started talking at once, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of accusations and defenses.

"Father!" Estin exclaimed, his voice muffled by the stone. "That brat, Elio, killed one of our own! Marcus!"

"That's a lie!" Raelar interrupted, fury evident in his tone. "Elio is innocent. Lucien proved it was a monster by the marks on the neck. It's a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Mordred roared. "He stole cores, defied our authority, and broke our rules!"

Selene tried to intervene. "Lord Fathoran, if you'll allow me to explain..."

But Fathoran raised a hand, silencing them all. His eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation shining in them. "I see the situation is more... tedious than I thought."

He paced in front of the statues, the rabbit on his head moving slightly with each step. "Little Lucien," he murmured, stopping in front of the statue of his youngest grandson, Kairos. "What role do you play in all this?"

Although Lucien wasn't present, the mention of his name seemed to fuel the discussion even more.

"Lucien is a traitor!" Estin shouted. "He's been training that boy, Elio, in secret. He gave him cores, taught him techniques that were exclusive to our families."

"He's doing what we should have done years ago!" Raelar countered. "Preparing the next generation, strengthening our walls."

The tension in the room was palpable, growing with each accusation thrown. The Summoners, despite being immobilized, seemed to be on the verge of a physical confrontation.

Fathoran observed them, his expression unreadable. The rabbit on his head, however, seemed increasingly agitated, its red eyes glowing with a disturbing intensity.

"Silence," Fathoran said, his voice barely a whisper. But the power behind that word was enough to instantly silence all voices.

He approached Estin's statue, his eyes fixed on those of his son. "You say this Elio kid killed one of our own. Do you have proof?"

Estin seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Well, not directly, but..."

"And you, Raelar?" Fathoran turned to his other descendant. "You claim he's innocent. What do you base that on? Just Lucien's word?"

Raelar, despite his immobilization, managed to project an air of confidence. "I know the boy, grandfather. He's not a murderer. He's a loyal soldier, with extraordinary potential."

Fathoran nodded slowly, processing the information. His gaze rested on each of the trapped Summoners, evaluating them.

"Hmm, on second thought, even if he's innocent, I see that this... Elio... has become the apple of discord in our family," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. "As the Creator used to say, those little seeds of conflict can grow to destroy empires. What's an apple is beyond me though…"

He stepped away a few paces, his figure casting a long shadow on the floor. When he turned back to them, his expression had changed. He was no longer the jovial and carefree patriarch. Now, his eyes shone with cold, calculating determination.

"I've made a decision," he announced. "This matter with Elio ends today."

A murmur of surprise ran through the trapped Summoners.

"But father," Mordred began, "what about Lucien? He..."

"Lucien is part of this family," Fathoran interrupted, his voice sharp as a mana sword. "His actions, whatever they may be, we'll discuss in private. But this Elio... he's an external element, a variable we can't allow to separate this family."

He approached the statues, his eyes scanning the faces of his descendants. "Listen to me well, all of you. This fight between you ends now. I will not tolerate any more family conflicts. Is that clear?"

The silence that followed was absolute.

"Good," Fathoran continued. "Now, as for Elio... I'll deal with him personally."

"What... what do you plan to do?" Selene asked, her voice barely audible.

Fathoran smiled, but there was no warmth in that gesture. "Whatever is necessary to protect this family and this city. As I have done for the last hundred years."