The Duke sat alone in silence, lost within the maze of his own thoughts. The arena around him was quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace and the distant whisper of wind against the castle walls.
His eyes remained fixed on nothing, as though he were staring into memories only he could see.
"My lord."
George's voice finally broke the silence.
The Duke blinked, rubbing his tired eyes before slowly turning toward him.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice low and serious.
George stepped forward and knelt respectfully. "Forgive me, my lord… but you cannot let the young lord continue like this."
Leon immediately moved as if to interrupt, but the Duke raised a hand, silently stopping him.
"Continue," the Duke ordered as he lowered himself into his chair once more.
George bowed his head slightly before speaking again. "If the young lord keeps acting this way, rumors will begin to spread.
People will say that a mere child defeated a knight of the Vleck family. It will stain the reputation of the house."
The arena fell silent once again.
The Duke rested his fist against his cheek, his expression unreadable. "Then what do you suggest, George?"
Hearing those words, George lowered his gaze even further.
"I believe," he said carefully, "that the second young lord should be punished."
"What?!"
Leon's voice thundered through the arena. His hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of his sword, anger flashing across his face.
"Are you out of your mind?"
But George remained calm, even smiling faintly.
"If we allow him to continue unchecked," he replied, "news of this will eventually reach the capital. And you already know what will happen then."
Leon clenched his teeth.
But, Before he could answer, the sharp sound of clapping echoed through the chamber.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"What a wonderful idea."
The Duke slowly rose from his seat, amusement dancing within his eyes.
George looked up in confusion while Leon frowned.
"But you know," the Duke continued, walking toward them, "I recently received some news. News so unbelievable that even I struggled to accept it."
"My lord… what news?" George asked cautiously.
The next moment, George froze.
The Duke was suddenly standing directly before him, close enough for George to feel his presence pressing down like a mountain.
Then the Duke leaned closer, lowering his voice into a whisper.
"My father is dead."
The words struck George like a blade through the heart.
A wave of fear instantly flooded his body. His face lost all color, and cold sweat dripped from his forehead. Yet it was not sorrow that terrified him.
No.
It was because, deep down, George had always known this day would come.
And now that it had… he knew death was coming for him as well.
In a final act of desperation, George reached for his sword.
His trembling hand barely touched the hilt before the world suddenly flipped upside down.
For a brief, horrifying moment, he saw the sky spinning above him.
Then darkness came.
A clean slash had severed his head before he could even draw his blade.
Blood splattered across the cold stone floor as George's lifeless body collapsed with a heavy thud. The Duke stared at the corpse without emotion before driving his boot into it, shoving it aside like worthless trash.
"Leon."
"Yes, my lord," Leon answered instantly.
The Duke slowly lifted his gaze toward the sky , his face calm despite the fresh blood staining the floor.
"Gather trusted men and go into town. Make an announcement."
Leon straightened. "What kind of announcement, my lord?"
The Duke's eyes darkened.
"Tell them to write down the names of bastards they want dead."
For the first time since entering the room, Leon looked genuinely shocked.
"We cannot do that, my lord," he said carefully. "If you allow such a thing, people may write your name… or the names of innocent men who have committed no crime."
The Duke remained silent for a moment before speaking again.
"That," he said coldly, "is exactly why I told you to gather trusted men."
Leon frowned slightly.
"Their task will be simple. They will go door to door and listen carefully to every accusation. They will investigate each claim in detail." His voice became colder with every word. "And if the accused are guilty… kill them."
Leon hesitated.
"But still—"
"LEON."
The Duke's voice thundered through the arena, instantly silencing him.
The pressure behind that single word was enough to make even a seasoned knight hold his breath.
Leon lowered his head immediately. "...Understood, my lord."
Without another word, he turned and began walking toward the exit.
"Leon."
He stopped and looked back.
The Duke stood in silence for a moment, half his face hidden beneath shadow.
"Do not grant them simple deaths," he said quietly. "I want them to beg for it."
A chill crawled down Leon's spine.
"And one more thing," the Duke continued. "Send letters to every noble house loyal to House Vleck. Summon them immediately."
His eyes narrowed.
"Any noble house that refuses my call will be branded traitors to House Vleck and the Asther Kingdom."
The arena felt colder after those words.
"And traitors," the Duke said, placing a hand on Leon's shoulder as he walked past him, "will be executed."
"Yes, my lord," Leon answered firmly.
But even as he obeyed, unease settled deep within his chest.
Because it felt as though something enormous—
something capable of shaking the entire kingdom—
had just begun within House Vleck.
Evening settled quietly over the cemetery.
The crimson light of the setting sun stretched across rows of ancient gravestones, while cold wind whispered through the dead grass like wandering spirits.
Beneath the fading sky, Rick stood alone before his mother's grave, a small bundle of flowers resting in his bloodstained hands.
The blood covering his clothes had long since dried.
Most of it was not his.
The scent of iron still clung to him from the arena.
Slowly, Rick knelt and placed the flowers before the gravestone.
"I'm back, Mother."
His voice was calm, almost gentle.
"I'm sure you'd be shocked if you saw me like this."
A faint smile appeared on his face as his fingers brushed against the cold stone.
"And I know what you would say." His smile weakened slightly. "You'd tell me to let go of my anger."
For a brief moment, silence answered him.
Then Rick lowered his gaze.
"But I can't do that, Mother."
The wind swept past him, rustling his dark hair and cloak.
"I'm not strong enough for that."
The bitterness hidden behind those words lingered heavily in the air.
Then—
Footsteps.
Rick did not turn around immediately. He already knew who it was.
"Why, " a familiar voice spoke from behind him, "is a person of your standing here,"
Rick let out a quiet chuckle.
"Father."
The Duke stood several steps away, staring at Elena's grave in silence.
"I came," he said slowly, "to ask for forgiveness."
Rick finally turned toward him.
"To whom?" he asked coldly. "Me… or my mother?"
The Duke fell silent for a moment before answering.
"To both."
As he spoke, he slowly walked closer.
Rick merely laughed under his breath.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice suddenly sharp. "If you came here to tell me some tragic story about why you 'couldn't do anything,' then don't bother."
His eyes met the Duke's directly.
"Because I already know."
The Duke's expression shifted slightly. "How… do you know that?"
Rick smiled faintly.
"Apparently, the Headmaster of the Academy felt pity for you." There was amusement in his voice, but no warmth. "He told me about your struggles."
The Duke's eyes narrowed.
But Rick continued before he could speak.
"That still doesn't make what you did right."
The air between them grew heavier.
"You can give me every excuse you want," Rick said coldly. "Tell me it was because of an oath. Tell me it was for the kingdom."
His gaze sharpened like a blade.
"But the truth will never change."
The Duke said nothing.
He simply stood there in silence while Rick turned away from the grave.
After taking a few steps, Rick stopped without looking back.
"Father."
The single word froze the Duke in place.
"If you truly want me to forgive you…" Rick said quietly, "…then first seek forgiveness from every person who suffered because of you."
His voice remained calm, but each word struck harder than a blade.
"From every life destroyed by your decisions."
And with that, Rick walked away, leaving the Duke alone beneath the darkening sky.
The sound of his footsteps slowly disappeared into the night.
Only silence remained.
The Duke stood before Elena's grave long after the moon had risen, unable to move.
Finally, he spoke.
"I'm sorry, Elena."
His voice trembled slightly.
"I lied to you."
The cold wind passed through the cemetery as the Duke lowered his head.
"I promised I would protect you. I promised I would give you happiness…"
His hands slowly clenched into fists.
"But the only thing I ever gave you was pain."
For the first time in years, the proud Duke looked painfully small.
"I was never worthy of you, Elena."
He lifted his eyes toward the night sky, his expression filled with exhaustion and regret.
"Even if killing them will never erase my sins… I still hope that one day…"
His voice cracked.
"…you will forgive me."
Silence answered him once more.
Then—
A gentle warmth touched his shoulder.
Soft.
Familiar.
And a quiet voice echoed beside his ear.
"I loved you."
The Duke's eyes widened.
The voice was faint, almost like a dream carried by the wind, yet it was enough to shatter the wall he had built around his heart.
Tears finally escaped his eyes.
"I love you too," he whispered brokenly.
And beneath the pale moonlight, the Duke wept alone before the grave of the woman he had failed to protect.
Seven days had passed since the Duel of Death.
Rick had left the town on the second day after the duel.
But during those seven days, something terrifying had happened within the territory of House Vleck.
The Duke's orders had been carried out without mercy.
Across towns and villages, accusations spread like wildfire. Names were written down. Doors were broken open in the middle of the night. Men and women were dragged screaming from their homes.
The torture chambers beneath House Vleck became so overcrowded that prisoners were chained together like animals. By the end of the seventh day, nearly three hundred people had been thrown into those chambers.
More than a thousand had already been executed.
Blood flowed through the gutters of the streets so often that people began saying the water itself had turned red.
Fear spread across the territory like a plague.
And everyone understood one thing clearly—
House Vleck had begun a purge.
Every person found guilty of grave crimes was shown no mercy.
They were tortured publicly before being hanged from the city gates, their bodies left swaying in the wind as warnings to others. Fear consumed the territory of House Vleck, but alongside the bloodshed, the Duke also delivered speeches across the land.
He spoke of forgiveness.
Of revenge.
Of building a better future.
Though his words could never erase the terror people had witnessed, they were enough to calm the panic—at least slightly.
For now, the people obeyed.
But beneath that obedience, fear still remained.
Seven days later.
Inside the Duke's private chamber, silence filled the room.
The Duke lay awake upon his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep despite the exhaustion weighing upon him. The faint light of dawn slipped through the curtains, painting pale shadows across the walls.
Knock. Knock.
A sharp sound echoed through the chamber door.
The Duke slowly sat up. "Come in."
The door opened, and Leon stepped inside before lowering his head respectfully.
"My lord, forgive me for disturbing you," he said carefully, "but the nobles have finally arrived in response to your summons."
The Duke remained silent for a few moments.
Then he rose from the bed and reached for a glass of wine resting nearby.
"Take them to my office," he ordered calmly. "I will join them shortly."
"Yes, my lord."
Leon bowed once more before leaving the room.
The Duke drank the wine in silence, his reflection trembling faintly against the dark red liquid.
By afternoon, the summer sun hung high above the kingdom.
Inside the Duke's office, however, the atmosphere was far colder.
Six men stood within the room, none daring to speak. The only sound breaking the silence was the rhythmic tapping of the Duke's finger against the table.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The Duke leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.
"So…" he said slowly, "out of nine noble houses, only three answered my summons."
The tension in the room instantly grew heavier.
One of the nobles finally stepped forward.
"Apparently, news of your father's death has already spread across every corner of the kingdom," said Dextet Van Wistoria.
"And because of that," another noble continued carefully, "they already know what is about to happen."
The speaker was Chris Van Chloe.
The Duke narrowed his eyes slightly.
"I see."
Silence followed once more.
Then the Duke picked up several documents from the table.
"If they refuse to come," he said coldly, "then I will go to them myself."
The room froze.
Even Leon looked alarmed.
"My lord…" he interrupted cautiously, "that will not be easy."
"What do you mean?" the Duke asked, his voice edged with curiosity.
The council chamber fell silent. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the stone walls as the nobles seated around the table exchanged uneasy glances.
"My lord," Leon began carefully, "out of the thousand criminals we executed, most belonged to the city guards, soldiers, and even the knightly orders."
Leon lowered his gaze before continuing. "And of those still loyal to the House Vleck… we have barely four thousand troops remaining."
The Duke leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping slowly against the armrest. His expression remained calm, but the tension in the room deepened.
"I fear," Leon said, voice tightening, "that it will not be enough to stand against the remaining six noble houses. And worse…" He hesitated. "Many of the other houses may see this turmoil as an opportunity."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Then a sharp voice cut through the room.
"Sir Leon is right," Damian Van Bolker, lord of Cleaner City, declared coldly, "we need a far better plan than this."
The Duke rose from his seat, the faintest grin appearing on his face.
"Do not concern yourselves," he said. "I already have a plan prepared for this very situation."
His eyes swept across the nobles gathered before him.
"So stop worrying," he continued calmly, "and begin preparing the troops."
The confidence in his voice unsettled everyone more than fear ever could.
Meanwhile, far from the tense council chamber of House Vleck, the royal palace gardens rested beneath the soft glow of the afternoon sun.
Grey sat quietly at a marble table surrounded by blooming flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. A warm breeze carried the scent of roses through the air as servants poured tea nearby.
Footsteps approached along the stone path.
"Your Highness," John greeted respectfully, bowing his head.
Grey glanced up from his cup. "John."
John straightened, though the tension on his face was impossible to hide.
"What is the situation with House Vleck?"
Grey asked casually before taking another sip of tea.
"The death toll has surpassed a thousand," John replied grimly. "And Duke Vleck has already sent letters summoning the noble houses loyal to him."
Grey listened in silence.
"But…" John continued, "only three houses have responded so far. Still, it appears the Duke is preparing for war."
"I see."
Grey set down his teacup gently, his expression unreadable.
"And what about the matter I asked you to do?" he asked.
John hesitated.
Grey noticed immediately. "Speak."
"It's done, Your Highness," John answered cautiously. "But…"
"But what?" Grey asked, wiping his mouth with a cloth.
John looked around nervously before lowering his voice.
"I'm afraid if several noble lords were to die suddenly during the chaos, it may complicate matters significantly."
For a moment, Grey said nothing.
Then, unexpectedly, a faint smile appeared on his lips.
It was not a warm smile.
John felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"You know, John," Grey said softly while pouring himself another cup of tea, "sometimes rotten flesh must be cut away…"
The tea streamed into the porcelain cup with a quiet sound.
"…even if it causes pain."
Grey lifted the cup slowly, staring into the rippling surface of the tea.
"Otherwise," he finished coldly, "the decay only spreads further."
"Just look at Bram Van Vleck," Grey said, his voice turning sharp as steel. "One man… just one rotten man… and yet countless people have suffered because of him."
The garden fell silent once more.
John remained seated across from him, listening carefully but saying nothing. The weight behind Grey's words was impossible to ignore.
Grey slowly lifted his teacup, staring into the dark liquid as though he were looking into the past itself.
"Twenty-seven years ago," he continued quietly, "Bram asked fir five mana-oath in return for Duke's enrollment in academy."
A bitter smile touched his lips.
"And for those twenty-seven years… the kingdom has continued paying the price for that single decision."
The wind rustled through the flowers around them, but neither man moved.
"Corruption spread through the guards." Grey's eyes narrowed. "The nobles tightened their grip over the people.
Innocent citizens suffered while the crown remained blind to the rot growing within the kingdom."
He took a slow sip of tea.
"Until now."
John lowered his gaze. For the first time, he understood the true meaning behind the sudden executions, the disappearances, and the quiet deaths among the noble houses.
This was not chaos.
It was a purge.
Grey gently placed the cup back onto the table.
"But now," he said calmly, "it is time for change."
The certainty in his voice carried far more weight than anger ever could.
"So do not worry, John."
John opened his mouth as though he wished to speak, but no words came out.
Grey simply continued drinking his tea in silence, as if discussing the fate of the kingdom were no different from commenting on the weather.
A cold realization settled in John's chest.
The kingdom of Asther was changing.
Not slowly.
Not peacefully.
But through blood, fear, and ruthless resolve.