Challenging the Heir
The dining hall was deathly silent. It felt as though they had all sunk into the depths of a deep sea.
Licht slowly took in the room. The mana circles that had been spinning madly were now turning sluggishly. At the same time, a profound sense of exhaustion washed over his entire body. His breath came in ragged gasps. He didn't let it show. He drew in long, slow breaths, steadying himself inwardly. The explosive mana surging through him began to subside.
I pushed too hard. That was close.
He didn't waver. He maintained his outward composure. This was a place where he had to.
"Don't move."
The guard knight's voice rang out with unusual clarity in the silence. The two blades at Licht's throat pressed in closer. Their stances were flawless. It was a display of restraint that demanded admiration. Before long, the remaining mana had fully dissipated into the air. Above Licht's right hand, pure white particles of light scattered like drifting snowflakes. They drew the eye inevitably.
Licht didn't bow his head. With impassive eyes, he looked toward the head of the table. Toward the man at the very top—his father and the master of House Barbalte, Abel Barbalte. There wasn't a trace of fear in his gaze. No one could have imagined this was the same bastard son who, just moments ago, hadn't even resisted Evan.
"Impossible...!"
The silence was broken by Evan Barbalte, the eldest son's voice laced with shock. His eyes shook violently, as if he'd witnessed something unbelievable. It was only natural. The light particles vanishing from Licht's hand like scattering petals—something a man who hadn't awakened aura in seventeen years could never produce. But the fact that he'd broken through the knights alone to reach this place was proof enough that it was real.
Might makes right.
A brutal reality he'd felt in his bones while weaving those eight circles. The faces around him now, unable to hide their emotions, only confirmed it.
Amella Pavria.
Not just the eldest son—even that woman couldn't hide her slightly parted lips. It was a rare expression for the noble lady of the house.
You tormented my mother.
He had never forgotten, not once. The other servants were no different. They stared at Licht in disbelief.
Abel spoke.
"Stand down."
"Ha!"
With short grunts, the two guard knights sheathed their swords in a flash, swift as beams of light.
So he saw through it.
The reaction was fleeting. Abel's eyes had already sunk back into their deep calm.
A Swordmaster had transcended human limits. There was no way he couldn't distinguish mana from circle magic and aura. Still, it was unexpected.
Aila Pavria.
There was an intense gaze that seemed ready to pierce right through him. But from the start, it had been closer to curiosity than shock or dismay.
She's not subtle.
Her blue eyes scanned Licht from head to toe. The curious gaze lingered on his left chest, over his heart—as if staring hard enough would let her see right inside.
"Such insolence!"
"M-Mother..."
"What the hell were the manor knights doing? Letting a half-baked nobody without even aura slip through? Don't they know the honor of House Barbalte...!"
Back to her usual face, she belatedly shouted. Chris Barbalte called out to her in panic, but she ignored him.
"I don't know what tricks you pulled..."
Evan, having calmed his emotions, spoke up.
"But this won't end here. You'll answer for every action you've taken."
"I don't think that's for you to worry about, brother."
"What...?"
"The master of House Barbalte is the family head. It's not for those below him to yap about. Nor to act like they own the place."
"......!"
He'd aimed straight at Amella. Her face flushed red at the blunt words. Just as she opened her mouth to retort—
"Enough."
Abel's voice rumbled heavily. Silence spread through the dining hall in an instant. All eyes turned to him. No questions. They simply waited. The words of a Swordmaster and the head of House Barbalte carried that much weight.
"Evan is right."
"......"
"Licht."
"Yes, family head."
"There must be a valid reason. Explain yourself. Now."
He was giving Licht a chance to speak. Normally, this would be a capital offense worthy of instant execution.
I expected this.
Probably because of the mana he'd just witnessed. House Barbalte was a martial house founded alongside the kingdom. Might was justice. Even Abel couldn't ignore Licht's unexpected power.
Amella's lips twitched in fury. Licht chose his words carefully before speaking.
"It was this morning."
"......"
"It's been less than a week, but all the food supplies were gone. Daily necessities too. Unless the head butler tampered with them, there should have been several days' worth left."
"And?"
Licht's gaze turned to Amella.
"I believe the head butler is your man, aunt."
"......"
"Meeting him required no other path."
"Nonsense!"
Amella shouted, her voice echoing loudly.
"You're slandering me now? Supplies short? Call the head butler here, right now! If there's a shred of falsehood in your words, I'll have you flogged on the spot!"
"Amella. I never permitted you to speak."
"You...!"
"Be silent. I won't say it twice."
His tone was firm. Even Amella couldn't defy the family head. Swallowing her rage, she bowed her head and bit her lip. As the dining hall quieted again, Abel continued.
"Licht."
"Yes."
"That doesn't justify your actions. Is it true you dueled Cliff?"
"I challenged him to a duel."
"Why?"
His voice was flat.
"He insulted my mother."
"......"
"Nobles hold honor dearer than life. He insulted my mother, so I challenged him through proper channels."
"Is that your justification?"
"Forgive me. But with the commotion already stirred, the only way to set it right was to meet you directly."
"Lies!"
Unable to listen further, Evan slammed the table and yelled. He ignored the gazes of the family head and others.
"It was suspicious from the start. A guy without aura until a few days ago beats Cliff? Even if true, it doesn't excuse you. A Sword User left in critical condition. You dare speak of honor after striking that hard?"
"It was my duel. My right, and no one can infringe on it. Not even the family head."
"You bastard...!"
The outburst cut off. Evan's twisted face went blank. Then, as if realizing something, he spoke.
"Ah... right, of course."
"......?"
"It's ridiculous when I think about it. For a powerless wretch like you with no connections, there's only one way to draw Father's attention..."
A sneer curled his lips.
"You used Queerix, didn't you? And undiluted, from the looks of it. Idiot, risking your life for this?"
Licht's eyes narrowed.
Queerix. A catch-all term for stimulants refined from ground magic stones. Inject pure Queerix into an artery, and even someone with no affinity for aura or mana could fight like a seasoned knight or mage for a time. Diluted versions were often used by blocked swordsmen or mages seeking insight. Acquiring it wasn't hard.
Everyone says the same thing.
Probably due to the gap between past and present Licht. It seemed more plausible that he'd chugged a massive dose for a temporary power spike than awakened aura in days—side effects be damned.
Those who know see it.
But beyond a certain level, it was different. Abel had seen through it instantly, and Aila Pavria was still eyeing him with open curiosity.
Just a Sword User.
As a child, the house had been Licht's whole world. A frog in a well. He'd looked up to Evan, a Sword Expert, unable to even lift his head. But after wandering the continent, he'd realized the truth. The world was vast. Strong men were legion, and Sword Users were a dime a dozen. That was when he'd shed his fear of Evan. A small fry who couldn't compare to Orkin's Seven Swords. Even when the house fell to the Holy Sword, Evan hadn't broken the Swordmaster wall.
Licht's lips curved up. Evan’s eyes widened at the mocking sneer.
"Blood is thicker than water, as they say... So it’s not wrong for aunt to berate me without evidence right after accusing me of slander."
"You...!"
"The knighting ceremony a month from now, where His Highness the Crown Prince himself will attend."
"......!"
"The final bout at the feast. Your exclusive knight, Sir Bail, is the opponent, right?"
The traditional rite for Barbalte heirs at age twenty. The future head of the house and the king's sole sword would be knighted by the Crown Prince himself before ascending the throne. A once-in-decades event. Nobles from the three great ducal houses to border barons flocked to it. The kingdom's eyes would be on it.
No better opportunity.
Licht glanced at Abel for confirmation. Abel closed his eyes silently. Silent affirmation.
"Perfect timing."
"What the hell are you getting at?"
"It's the first and last time His Highness will knight personally. For the future Sword of Arhen to trade blows with your exclusive knight? The others would laugh."
"...You're crossing the line."
"Are you scared?"
"What?"
"Of your vaunted level being exposed to the world."
The words had barely left his mouth.
Evan's face twisted in rage, demonic with fury. He looked ready to draw his sword any second. Bail Crane was a Sword Expert. Handful in the kingdom. Defeating one at twenty during the Crown Prince's sole knighting ceremony...
Your game is obvious.
Petty scheme. Choosing Bail specifically—not just any Expert—made it clear. Bail had been assigned to Evan less than a year ago. Everyone knew House Crane received full backing from Amella. The outcome was predictable.
Unable to contain himself, Evan shouted.
"Father! No need to hear more. Seize him and make him pay—!"
"I'll step in."
Licht cut him off. Evan's glaring eyes snapped to him as he ranted at Abel.
"For this knighting ceremony."
He didn't hesitate.
"I'll be your duel opponent, brother."
He said it while scanning the room. Silence fell in an instant.