Chapter5: Selection of the five young master's(1)
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Walking into the palace, head raised, steps firm, Dillon erased every trace of old thoughts from his mind—every shadow of memories that no longer mattered.
"Past? Just something already gone. And the present? It's what I stand on right now. Even if I have to turn this place into rubble again, I don't care. I'll trample them, I'll bury them under the stones, for my goal… for my revenge… and for the path I chose. If I must, I'll stand against the entire world."
"Sir young master, please wait in the reception room for a moment. I will inform His Majesty of your arrival."
With that, Zeke left, leaving Dillon alone.
He headed toward the reception room. Upon entering, he found two girls and one boy. The girls were somewhat noisy, while the boy looked like someone in another world entirely, holding a book, one leg over the other, lost in its lines.
The moment Dillon was seen entering, silence suddenly filled the room. The girls turned their eyes toward him, while the boy didn't even acknowledge him.
The sound of furniture shifting echoed as he sat down, resting his head on his hand. Eyes closed, Dillon relaxed, showing no regard for those around him.
He heard hurried footsteps, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.
"You… you are Dillon Narsel, aren't you? I'm Nersia Narsel, and this is Lana Narsel. We are your older sisters."
Nersia and Lana were twins, one year older than Dillon.
He slowly opened his eyes, gave them a cold glance, and said, "Ah… alright. Nice to meet you."
He spoke in a bored tone, then closed his eyes again, losing all interest.
"What? Didn't you hear clearly? We are your older sisters. Greet us properly!"
Nersia spoke sharply.
But Dillon didn't even acknowledge her, treating her as if she were nothing more than a passing shadow.
Her face reddened, teeth clenched, but she quickly calmed herself.
"Wait… don't tell me they didn't even teach you manners in that place you call a palace? Or did your concubine mother not bother raising you properly after she was cast out?"
Dillon ignored her words. But the moment he heard the mention of his mother, the armrest under his hand shattered violently.
Nersia stepped back in shock—but it was already too late. Dillon's hand shot forward, grabbing her neck, lifting her into the air and choking her.
She struggled desperately, but it was useless.
"P-please… let go…"
Her face reddened and tears fell as she fought for air. She looked at Dillon—his empty eyes, his cold face. Even while about to kill someone, he showed no emotion.
Her struggling hands, which had been fighting moments ago, slowly lost strength. Her legs trembled, her heartbeat shook. A feeling she had never experienced before took over her.
Fear.
Not fear of death—but fear of the one who caused it: Dillon.
Lana, who had been calm until moments ago, began crying while looking at him. But he did not move.
Nersia's eyes slowly closed. Her gray hair trembled, and her blue eyes lost their shine. Her soul was about to slip away.
But...
Before her eyelids closed, the air beside Dillon distorted.
In a brief moment of silence… the pressure in front of him intensified.
A cold hand gripped his wrist tightly.
"That's enough. Stop now."
A black-haired boy with green eyes—the one who had been reading moments ago—intervened at the last second.
His grip tightened on Dillon's wrist, causing pain.
Blue, empty eyes met indifferent green eyes. Invisible sparks seemed to erupt between them, forcing Lana to stumble backward unconsciously and fall to the ground.
"…"
The boy glanced at his target one last time, then released her.
"Fine."
Nersia's body crashed onto the floor, gasping for air, tears soaking the ground. The boy let go of Dillon's wrist and stepped back. Lana rushed to help her sister while crying.
Dillon lowered his gaze at Nersia, then crouched down.
"This time, you kept your life. But the next time I hear my mother insulted, I will cut off your head."
"Y-yes… understood!"
Nersia answered in submission.
Dillon turned away and returned to his seat, sitting as if nothing had happened.
"You two. Get up. We're leaving."
"What? But brother Arthur!"
Lana clung to Arthur's leg, but he gently pushed her away.
"Didn't you hear me? Get up now. I won't repeat myself."
With a single glance, Lana's body trembled. Quickly, she helped her sister stand, passing by her brother. She went out first.
Before Arthur left, he stopped and looked back at Dillon.
"This time I'll overlook what happened, since it was Nersia's fault. But next time, I won't."
Upon hearing this, Dillon crossed his legs, resting his head on his hand. A wide smile formed on his face, but he said nothing.
Arthur's expression shifted slightly before he continued walking, but soon he stopped again, looking at Dillon with faint surprise—as if he had realized something.
After a few seconds, the three of them left, leaving Dillon alone.
"Hmm… so he noticed, huh?"
"Hahaha… I planned this to test how far that boy has grown at such a young age, but I was truly surprised."
Dillon had prepared everything in advance before arriving at the palace, intending to test Arthur. But he didn't expect him to be that strong. Arthur had clearly been reading his book just moments ago, yet he crossed that distance in an instant—and even saw through the plan. A true genius.
The smile faded from Dillon's face, returning to his cold expression.
"Yes… as I thought. That boy… must die immediately."
In Dillon's past life, Arthur had been a constant obstacle—his intelligence and talent like a thorn in his side. He had never been able to kill him.
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The door opened again. A tall man walked in.
"Sir young master, thank you for waiting. His Majesty requests your presence." It was Zeke.
"Hmm… really."
Still seated in the same position, noticing the marks of broken furniture, Zeke silently wondered: Where did that timid child go?
Without hesitation, Dillon stood up.
"Then lead the way."
They walked together until they reached the king's office. The servants opened the door and left Dillon to enter alone.
"Your Majesty, young master Dillon has arrived," said a man standing beside the king's chair.
"Leave us."
At those words, the man exited, leaving the vast room to father and son.
"Come closer," the king ordered.
Dillon felt a sense of disgust, but forced himself to obey and bowed.
"Dillon Narsel greets Your Majesty."
The king rose from his chair, placed a hand on the desk, and looked at him.
"Yes… welcome. This is our first meeting, correct?"
Black hair and blue eyes. A majestic man with a beard covering part of his face—he looked just like Dillon.
"Yes, that is correct."
Dillon wasn't interested in him. He had always considered him useless trash—he had exiled Dillon and his mother after the fall of the Narsel family and abandoned them completely.
"…What do you feel toward me?"
Dillon was genuinely surprised and struggled to control his expression.
"What do you mean, Your Majesty?"
"You don't call me father… so I want to know what you feel about me."
"…Are you sure you want the honest answer?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"To be honest, I don't care. A man who cast out me and my mother and abandoned us… and you expect me to call him father?"
He paused briefly.
"Honestly… I see you as nothing but a useless bastard."
Silence filled the room.
The king's eyes widened, then he formed a smile—but quickly hid it.
"To speak like that to your father… your king… have you chosen death, you little insect?"
A surge of pressure filled the room, shaking the floor. Books fell from shelves as Dillon was forced down.
But he resisted, gritting his teeth. Slowly, he stood back up and looked at his father without fear. For a moment, he had forgotten how powerful the king truly was.
Seeing this, the king released his pressure and returned to his seat.
"Go to your room. A servant will guide you and explain tomorrow's test rules."
After Dillon left, the king's deputy entered.
"So, Your Majesty Edgar… what is your impression of him?"
The king smiled.
"Do you know what that boy called me? A useless bastard… right to my face. Can you believe it?"
Sebastian couldn't hide his shock.
"I released a bit of my pressure at first. I expected him to collapse immediately at his age… but he endured it—and looked straight at me."
His smile widened.
"You seem happy, Your Majesty."
"Yes… perhaps I am. In any case, this year's test… will be interesting."
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In the meantime, Dillon was heading toward his room, walking beside the servant.
As he moved forward, he noticed something strange.
All the servants and guards were staring at him.
"What is this? They started monitoring my every move the moment I arrived? How rude…" he sneered inwardly.
He had expected it… but not this quickly.
Soon, he reached his room, and the servant began explaining the rules of the next day's test.
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"First, five heirs will participate, and only three will pass. There will be three tests."
The servant began his explanation.
"First, you will drink a vital energy concoction to awaken your aura core. Then, in front of a massive wall, you will throw your swords toward its center. Your talent, aura strength, and even the type and color of your aura will be evaluated."
"Second, there will be a general knowledge and philosophy exam. The examinee must answer the questions, and in the end, present a philosophical interpretation of the given topic."
"Third, there will be combat between the five of you, arranged by His Majesty."
"As for the rewards for the successful candidates: the third place will receive one hundred thousand gold coins. The second place will be allowed to choose a sword from the Great Family's armory. And the first place will be granted access to the royal vault to select one treasure of the family."
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After finishing the explanation, the servant excused himself and left.
Dillon remained alone in his room, sitting on the bed.
"The royal vault is useful… but not something valuable in the long run."
"A sword is unnecessary—I already possess a superior one."
"Third place is useful… but only for the moment."
After a long silence of thought…
Dillon made his decision.
He would aim for first place.