In the Plaza of Lootwell territory.
Roughly two hundred citizens gathered in the heart of Lootwell. They were the ones who had stayed behind, those still loyal to the land they called ho.
The previous Baron and Baroness had been kind to them, almost to a fault. Even in their final monts, the Baron’s only wish had been to ensure his people were fed.
So when they died, grief settled heavy over the territory.
Now, all eyes were on Lucien. They rembered him as a cheerful, clever boy, full of energy and always eager to help. But being a lord was another matter entirely.
Most didn’t know what to expect. So feared the worst. After all, he was still just a child in their eyes.
A few had already started contemplating escape if the territory’s condition deteriorated further. Despair hovered thick in the air.
Still, they ca. More out of loyalty to the late Baron than hope. They stood in the plaza waiting for whatever ca next.
Then Lucien arrived.
He didn’t walk like the boy they rembered.
His steps were steady.
His face fierce.
His presence commanding.
Every conversation halted. Silence blanketed the crowd as he climbed the platform.
Even Sebas, who stood behind him holding a bound and battered Dreggor, went unnoticed as they are so transfixed by Lucien.
Lucien scanned the crowd. He saw their cautious eyes, the way they stared at him as though seeing a ghost of the late Baron.
He knew it was because of his Charisma stat and the title "nace to Society." He was glad they worked. That way, it would be easier for him to proceed.
Lucien gave a signal.
With a subtle nod, Sebas dragged Dreggor forward, placing him in the center of the platform.
At last, the crowd noticed Dreggor.
Confused murmurs rippled through them as they recognized the bound and battered man.
"Isn’t that the mining manager?"
"He looks like he’s been dragged through hell..."
"What did the young lord do to him?"
"Wait—don’t tell ... is he going to feed him to us because there’s no food left?!"
Lucien winced at that last comnt.
’Okay... that escalated quickly.’
The plaza buzzed with unrest, the citizens exchanging wild guesses. So genuinely concerned, others weirdly imaginative. Lucien could barely keep up with the nonsense he was hearing.
Before it spiraled further, he raised his hand.
A hush fell instantly.
Then, in a cold and clear voice, he spoke:
"My loyal subjects. I know you’ve suffered. Your hardships have not gone unseen. And as your new lord, your pain is mine! I swear to you now...
It ends today.
But first, I must admit sothing... I failed you.
I let a traitor slip past my watch. He poisoned our land and preyed upon our trust. For that, I offer you my deepest apology."
A ripple moved through the crowd. Emotion swelled in their chests.
"Yes, a traitor. Dreggor... The very man we trusted! Dreggor! Do you even grasp the weight of your betrayal?!"
Lucien turned his gaze toward Dreggor.
The crowd followed.
And then... sothing changed.
Their eyes sharpened, burning with emotion.
Injustice.
Indignation.
Hatred.
The weight of their suffering surfaced all at once, boiling just beneath the surface.
Lucien watched it unfold and felt the tension ripple through the air.
Lucien had them now.
"He wasn’t one of us. He was a spy. Sent by so greedy lord to sabotage our ho.
He murdered our miners. Ruined our fields. Starved our families. He tore apart the very land we built with our own hands!
Let this act of treachery be the last.
I, Lucien Lootwell, your protector, declare:
Justice will be served!
From these ashes, we will rise. Proud, unbroken, and stronger than ever!"
The dam burst.
All their hunger, sorrow and helplessness surged to the surface.
They didn’t know the na of the lord who had orchestrated their suffering.
But now, they had a face.
A traitor.
Soone to bla.
The crowd erupted, voices raw with fury. Their pain condensed into a single chant.
"""""Kill! Kill! Kill!"""""
’Crap... they’re scaring .’ Lucien thought.
Truthfully, Lucien didn’t need anyone’s approval to execute a traitor. He would kill anyone who threatened his ho or family.
He simply preferred transparency. Let everyone know why this was happening.
Sebas stepped forward, breaking his usual stoic deanor.
"Young Lord... please. Let do it. Spare your hands this stain. Let this Sebas bear the burden."
Lucien shook his head.
"Sebastian, this is part of being a lord. If it happens again, I need to be ready."
Sebas opened his mouth to protest but Lucien raised a hand.
The old butler hesitated then stepped back.
His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the cheering crowd.
"I’m sorry... I couldn’t keep my promise..."
But the way he said it, it wasn’t ant for Lucien.
It was for soone else.
Soone far away.
Lucien stepped forward as the crowd’s chants rumbled around him. Dreggor squird in his binds, muffled by cloth. Lucien had made sure Sebas silenced him just in case he tried to use his Deception skill.
"You know," Lucien muttered to Dreggor, "I asked the system why I can’t see HP and other status like in gas... I never got an answer. Not user-friendly at all."
Dreggor’s panicked eyes darted around in confusion.
"Maybe it’s because those things can’t be asured by numbers or maybe because of other variables. So let’s test that theory. You’ll be my experint.
After all, in gas, a level 1 shouldn’t be able to harm a level 23.
Let’s find out."
Lucien drew his sword.
At first glance, it seed like a re ornantal blade. It was sothing his father had cherished more for its beauty than its bite.
But when Lucien used SCAN, he discovered its true worth.
Type: Short Sword
Rarity: Rare
Description: Forge from dark iron and tempered for durability. Tears into flesh like being bitten by iron itself.
The blade glinted under the sun, its dark edge gleaming cold and rciless.
Lucien raised it.
Then he brought it down.
Clean and swift.
The blade sliced through Dreggor’s neck. His head rolled free in the air before it falls down.
Silence again.
The people stared wide-eyed, from Lucien to the fallen traitor.
Lucien didn’t flinch. He felt no guilt.
What did surprise him was that a level 1 like himself had decapitated a level 23. That changed everything. If he could kill higher levels, then lower ones could do the sa to him.
Power wasn’t as linear as he thought.
The scene, however, was still a bit too graphic for his taste.
But then, sothing unexpected happened.
A glowing object appeared next to Dreggor’s corpse.
"Oops... You drop sothing!"
Everyone around him fell silent.
They stared at Lucien. His small and wide eyes looks sincerely puzzled.
And then... they followed his gaze.
Straight to the severed head lying on the ground.
A single giggle broke the silence.
Then another.
And suddenly, the plaza erupted... not in fear or horror but in laughter.
Giggles rolled into chuckles, and chuckles into full-bellied cheer.
""""""Young Lord!!! Young Lord!!! Young Lord!!!"""""
They had completely misunderstood him.
Lucien was genuinely surprised. He thought that only monsters left drops behind.
But the crowd?
They thought he was talking about the head. The sa severed head now lying unceremoniously on the ground.
The contrast amused them.
One mont, he stood fierce carrying out an execution with ruthless precision.
The next, he dropped a completely awkward and almost childlike comnt, breaking the tension like a burst of sunshine in a storm.
They weren’t scared of him at all. To them, Dreggor deserved to die.
But Lucien himself felt a chill from the loud cheers.
’Shit,’ he thought. ’If I hadn’t done this sooner, maybe these mobs would’ve ended up decapitating instead.’
He misread their laughter as bloodthirsty rage and it made him shiver.
Still, as their lord, he had to keep his composure.
Quietly, he stepped forward and picked up the mysterious drop near the severed head.
To his surprise, it wasn’t the usual glowing cube.
Instead, a glowing card shimred in his hand.
He held it briefly, then it vanished just like other drops.
He made a ntal note to study it later.
To avoid raising any suspicion, Lucien picked up the severed head and hoisted it high.
Because of his small stature, he had to use both hands to hold it steady.
"HAAAAH!"
He let out a loud cheer, holding the head aloft like a victorious warrior.
The crowd looked on with amused affection, chard by the contrast of their fierce young lord and his awkward, almost childish display.
Laughter and cheers echoed through the plaza, mingled with playful giggles.
But beneath his bravado, Lucien felt queasy.
’Ugh, this is gross.’
Quickly, he tossed the head aside and motioned for Sebas to get rid of it.
Before he could react further, a series of system notifications flashed before Lucien’s eyes.
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