Somewhere inside a vish vil…

  Two gsses of wine sat untouched on a polished wooden table. Ivar slouched on a velvet sofa, his cheeks flushed red from drink. Across from him, a man with pale blue hair and a light yellow suit sat with a calm smile—Wystan Northwell.

  "I really hate this," Ivar snarled, smming his gss down. "How the hell did my idiot brother change so much? And he still won’t give up his damn position as heir!"

  Wystan sipped his wine, voice smooth. "Young Master Ivar, don’t worry. Duke Ravenshade would never allow someone like Aric to become Duke. No one changes that fast. He’s probably bluffing—trying to hold on just long enough to steal some wealth and run."

  "I hope that’s all it is," Ivar muttered darkly. "But if it’s not... then I’ll kill him myself. Wystan, help me find an assassin."

  Wystan gave a slow nod. “There is a group—Purple Gate. Their assassins are elite. I’ll arrange everything.”

  Ivar narrowed his eyes. “Do it. Fast.”

  ---

  Meanwhile, at the Duke’s Mansion…

  In the quiet of a secluded backyard, Aric moved like flowing water. Each sword stroke was smooth, almost gentle—yet there was a fierce, brutal rhythm beneath the surface. It was the style of the Demonic God, a technique none could grasp.

  Standing nearby, Lyra watched him with a towel in her hand, eyes filled with admiration.

  "You don’t have to wait for me like that," Aric said, finishing his final motion. "Focus on mastering the mana technique I gave you. For now, sword and magic together are too much for you."

  "Yes, Young Master," Lyra said softly. "I was only waiting to give you this." She pced the towel beside him and left quietly.

  Later, at the dining table, Aric sat across from Duke Ravenshade and Duchess Mirelle. He ate in silence, then calmly pced down his fork.

  "I’ve reached the Third Circle. I want to enter the vault now, as you said."

  The Duke’s expression turned grim. "Do you understand the consequences of lying?"

  "I'm not lying. You’re free to test me," Aric said, his tone unwavering.

  Duchess Mirelle leaned forward, visibly agitated. “He was at the First Circle just days ago! It’s impossible!”

  "If you're lying," the Duke warned, "the punishment will be severe."

  "If I’m lying, I’ll give up my right as heir," Aric decred.

  The Duke studied him. "Very well. Tomorrow, you’ll spar with Knight Lios. Before everyone."

  ---

  The Next Day – Training Grounds

  The training ground buzzed with anticipation. Nobles and knights gathered, including Duchess Mirelle, Ivar, and the Duke himself. Knight Captain Ron stood at the front, overseeing the match.

  A tall, noble-looking man with pale blue hair approached.

  "It’s been a long time, Lord Xareth Ravenshade," he said politely.

  "Count Kendrick," the Duke replied, frowning. "Why are you here?"

  "I invited him," Ivar said with a smirk. "Today is special. My dear brother will finally prove himself... or be exposed as a fraud."

  The Duke said nothing—but in his eyes was the desire for confirmation.

  Aric stood across from Knight Lios. The knight looked down at him with disdain.

  "I’ll be the marshal," Captain Ron announced. "Begin when ready."

  "You may attack first," Aric said calmly.

  With a growl, Lios charged forward, his bde cutting through the air in a heavy overhead strike.

  Aric didn’t move. He didn’t even draw his sword.

  At the st moment, his sheathed bde rose and blocked the attack effortlessly. The force sent a shock through the air—and then, with a flick of his wrist, Aric threw Lios back several meters.

  The spectators gasped.

  Enraged, Lios lunged again, this time with more force. His bde came in horizontally, but Aric deflected it, stepped back, then countered with a powerful strike to Lios' chest.

  Lios barely blocked it.

  Snarling, he summoned his aura. His sword glowed with power. “Star Sword Technique – First Form: Star-Shattering Ssh!”

  The air trembled as the void-slicing attack descended.

  But Aric simply stepped back, raised a hand—

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  Three bolts of lightning burst from the sky, shattering Lios' technique mid-air. Lios hit the ground, unconscious.

  Silence.

  Everyone stood stunned. That was Fourth Circle magic—far beyond what Aric had cimed.

  "He’s using dark powers!" Ivar shouted. "There’s no way someone can reach Fourth Circle from First in days!"

  Aric gnced at him coldly. “If you can’t accept defeat, you’ll die before your first battle.”

  Whispers broke out among the knights. Even the Duke looked shaken.

  "Ivar, enough," he growled.

  "But Father—"

  "Enough!" the Duke snapped. Then, after a moment, he added darkly, "No one improves that fast. Arrest Aric. We’ll investigate whether he’s using forbidden arts. Take Lios to treatment."

  The guards hesitated, but began to move.

  Lyra shouted from the crowd, “You can’t do this! He won fairly! You just don’t want him as heir!”

  "Silence!" a knight barked. "A mere servant dares speak like that? Execute her!"

  Aric ughed coldly. “Hah... what a joke. Two-faced snakes.”

  "What did you say?!" the Duke roared.

  "I said—you’re all pathetic. You, Duke, cimed to love my mother, yet you treat me like this. You always wanted to get rid of me."

  “You filthy half-blood!” the Duchess spat. “You’re nothing but a servant’s spawn who used evil power to steal what belongs to Ivar!”

  Aric’s eyes fshed with fury. “And you... You tried to kill me before and still have the nerve to act noble?”

  "Enough, Young Master!" Ron shouted. "Accusations without proof are dishonorable!"

  "I’m not your Young Master anymore," Aric said, ripping off his heir badge and throwing it to the ground. "From this day forward, I sever all ties with the Ravenshade family."

  Knights moved to restrain him, but his killing intent stopped them in their tracks.

  "Move," he warned, "and I’ll take your heads."

  None dared approach.

  Aric turned and walked away.

  Lyra broke from the crowd and followed without hesitation.

  Duke Ravenshade stood silently.

  “From now on,” he finally decred, “Ivar Ravenshade is the sole heir of this house!”