How Is That an Opportunity?
Two hours later.
The massive main gate of the Restis Ducal Residence groaned open with a heavy frictional rumble.
Guuuuung—!
Clack-clack—
Followed by the thunderous hoofbeats that shook the earth, a group of knights poured in, their jet-black flags snapping in the wind.
At the forefront of that overwhelming procession rode a man draped in a blood-red cloak, gripping the reins of his black steed. The master of the grand duchy, ruler of the North. The tyrant known as the strongest sword master, Arjen Restis.
“Present arms!!”
As Arjen entered, the lined-up knights raised their swords in salute, celebrating his return. The duke's homecoming took the form of a grand welcoming ceremony.
In the vast central plaza of the main estate, every knight order, vassal, and high-ranking member of the household stood without a single exception, bowing their heads.
“Hiiing!!”
With the whinny of Arjen's prized warhorse, he dismounted, and a suffocating silence crushed the plaza. The killing intent he exuded was vast enough to choke the breath from hundreds in an instant.
Thud—
Arjen passed through the ranks of his bowing vassals and settled into the tall jade throne at the plaza's center, leaning back.
This ceremony was no mere greeting. It was a place where, in the absence of the family head, those left behind reported every detail of their achievements and dedications to the house—and received judgment on the spot. Praise and rewards for the worthy, reprimands and ruin for the failures.
Silina stepped forward first, elegantly kneeling. As acting head, she fluently recited the territory's tax status, administrative handling, and procurement of supplies for the monster defense lines. Her report was laced with cunning exaggerations that inflated her accomplishments.
Arjen merely gazed down at her with his red eyes, chin propped, offering neither praise nor rebuke.
“Next.”
Then came Steward Renolt's report, followed breathlessly by those of the knight order captains and department heads.
Watching the tedious ritual while awaiting his turn, Cael glanced around.
The Heavenly Demon Cult was less brutal than this.
The area where the duke's children gathered. Arjen had nine children in total. The eldest, Cael; the second, Silina's son Esler. And then a string of half-siblings below them.
Most of his siblings, including Esler, were away at the academy, so they weren't present. Cael's gaze fell on only two.
His youngest sister Isabel, fidgeting nervously at his side. And beside her, a boy standing like a ghost, suppressing his presence—a unfamiliar face.
Pale skin, a twitchy slender frame, and inscrutable deep purple eyes. If Cael's memories of the novel were correct, this was his half-brother Jerdin Restis, who had stayed at the estate instead of going to the academy.
Cael's eyes narrowed with interest.
Hmm, he wasn't mentioned in the novel's memories I read... What ability does he have?
Was he a minor extra, or a hidden variable lurking behind history unknown to Cael? He couldn't tell.
Sensing Cael's gaze, Jerdin turned his head, met his eyes briefly, then dropped them back to the ground with an emotionless face.
Strange kid, Cael thought, turning away—when a cold, heavy voice boomed across the plaza.
“Next. Cael Restis.”
At last, it was Cael's turn to report.
Hundreds of eyes in the plaza snapped to him. In the stifling silence, Cael straightened from his kneel and walked forward slowly.
Arjen's red eyes clashed head-on with Cael's ash-gray ones in midair. Years since they'd last met like this, yet no familial warmth passed between father and son.
Arjen arrogantly tilted his chin from the throne.
“Report.”
Cael's deeds in Vollex Territory went unmentioned. Subduing the corrupt lord, eradicating the massive crime syndicate Legnum and seizing vast funds for the house. Even perfectly commanding the neglected Blue Wolf Knights, transforming them into a new force.
Each was achievement enough to boast of for the family's glory. The vassals and even Silina tensed, wondering how Cael would flaunt his feats with eloquent words to catch the head's eye.
But Cael's report was a single phrase that shattered expectations.
“I've gotten healthy.”
“What?”
“I've gotten healthy. What more is there to say?”
Whoooosh—
A chill wind swept the plaza just then. The crowd of hundreds doubted their ears, holding their breath.
Ignoring his dazzling accomplishments, reporting only his personal recovery like some eccentric.
Arjen's thick brows twitched faintly.
“That's all?”
“What more do you need?”
Cael smirked, shrugging casually.
“Oh, one more thing. Now that I'm healthy, I'll challenge for the successor position again.”
A sharp gasp escaped Silina from the plaza's edge.
Insanity. Declaring a rechallenge for successor before the tyrant head, without proving any merits first.
“Ha?”
A twisted smile curled Arjen's lips. Not anger at his son's insolence, but the grin of a predator intrigued by this off-kilter change.
“Do you resent me?”
Arjen's sudden question. That instant.
A hot, sticky emotion surged from deep in Cael's chest, clawing up his sternum. Not the Heavenly Demon Cheon Woo-jin's feeling.
It was the lingering soul of the original Cael—craving his father's love his whole life, only to be cruelly discarded. The profound resentment and sorrow of blood abandoned. Even dying from poison, his father never came. Betrayal erupted.
But the Heavenly Demon crushed that frail sentiment with overwhelming mental fortitude. His raging heart cooled in a flash.
Cael's eyes gleamed like a still, deep lake.
“Resent you? I know better than anyone that the head of a grand duchy isn't so idle as to nurse a child's illness.”
A dry, matter-of-fact reply, devoid of tremor or sarcasm.
Arjen's gaze flickered oddly.
Hoo... What's this? Was Cael always this kind of guy?
The old Cael had been a timid pup, begging for affection, unable to meet his eyes. Now, he exuded the arrogance of yawning leisurely before a beast's jaws.
Arjen leaned forward from the throne, hurling a dagger at his son's heart.
“I resent you. The one I loved was your mother, Miren. Not you.”
Cruel words spat by a father before vassals and siblings alike.
But Cael's face showed not a speck of hurt.
“I know.”
“Your birth ruined Miren's health, sending her to an early grave. I resent and loathe you, the brat who devoured his mother's life to be born.”
The duke's tirade denied the child's very worth. Oppressive pressure crushed the plaza, breaths held—but Cael, taking it full-on, remained utterly serene.
“Is that so? Mother seemed to think differently from you, Head.”
A light, indifferent retort, like a morning greeting. He called him “Head,” not “Father.”
Arjen swallowed a hollow laugh inwardly.
His eyes have changed. Must've had some epiphany rolling at death's door.
Arjen despised the weak but valued the fighting spirit baring teeth for power.
He tapped the throne's armrest lightly and spoke.
“Fine. Watching if your boldness is hot air or not won't hurt.”
His red eyes swept the plaza, declaring the unforeseen.
“From this moment, I officially permit eldest son Cael Restis's challenge for successor.”
“!!!!”
The silent plaza exploded like a bomb.
Granting rechallenge to one cast out before? Unprecedented in centuries of Restis history.
Silina lost reason first.
“Head!! But that violates house law!! The successor qualification already belongs to Esler...!”
“Silina. When did I say Esler was set as successor?”
Arjen's icy words froze the plaza's air. His killing intent gripped her throat like a beast's jaws.
“Do I need to repeat my decision for you to understand?”
“N-no, sir...”
Silina paled, flattening to the dirt. Her nails clawed the earth, swallowing rage.
Arjen looked back at Cael with a mocking smile.
“Successor challenge. That's the last chance I give you, blood of Miren. Understand?”
Feigning mercy by invoking the dead mother—an arrogant lord's oppression. Any normal child would prostrate in tearful thanks.
But Cael scoffed it off lightly.
“Chance? How is that a chance?”
The vassals' hearts dropped at Cael's words.
“What?”
Arjen's brows twisted menacingly.
Cael met those red eyes squarely, unflinching.
“A 'chance' is mere charity from someone who can revoke it. I'm not receiving permission to challenge. In the end, Head, for the house's prosperity, you'll have no choice but to select me as next head. How is that a chance? It's the natural course.”
Not me permitting you—you'll have no choice but to choose me.
Not Cael's words, but the Heavenly Demon Cheon Woo-jin's arrogant declaration of war.
A uncontrollable storm of bloodlust between father and son began swirling over the plaza.
“Hoo... Quite the entertaining words, son?”