Damian didn’t realize that his deal with Gia had created chaos among the Noble families, forcing them to step back from direct confrontation.
The confusion was understandable given the Federation’s complex power structure.
Noble families, despite their arrogance and influence, were ultimately subordinate to the thirteen Imperial families who truly controlled the Federation’s direction.
But the world of Noble politics was far more chaotic than simple hierarchies suggested.
Even within individual Noble houses, branches fought each other viciously for power and resources. Loyalty to their ruling Imperial family was often secondary to personal advancent.
And crucially, no Noble family bothered asking their Imperial overlords about the Mafia situation.
Because from an Imperial perspective, small criminal organizations were beneath notice. Irrelevant to the grand political gas they played.
The Imperial families knew about Damian Valcor as a rising talent – his Demon fight and portal survival had ensured that much.
But most didn’t care beyond academic interest.
So Imperial houses did note with mild concern that he seed capable of turning commoners toward organized resistance against Noble authority.
But they also knew he was Kaiser’s disciple.
And they knew his family had deep connections to the military – not surface-level associations, but genuine influence built over decades of service.
That information created a protective buffer most Imperials weren’t willing to test without significant cause.
All they could do was force the Academy professors to not guide him.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, this crucial context wasn’t known by the Noble families themselves.
They hadn’t researched thoroughly enough. Hadn’t looked past surface-level records. Hadn’t considered that a "commoner" family might have resources beyond their apparent station.
And the Kestrel Noble Family was among the most ignorant.
****
[Stormhold Academy - Eastern Garden - Midnight]
Damian entered the Academy grounds late, his body still trembling slightly from the aftereffects of nearly dying hours ago.
The eastern garden was deserted at this hour, moonlight casting long shadows across carefully maintained paths.
He walked slowly, his mind replaying the mont when that fist had co down toward his head, when he’d accepted death with strange calm.
’I would have died if the Unnad Four hadn’t intervened...’
For reasons he didn’t fully understand, he pulled out his communication device and called his mother.
Usually, he never called her or reached out unprompted except for scheduled check-ins.
But tonight, having co so close to permanent absence, he needed to hear her voice.
The call connected after two rings.
"...Damy? What happened? You don’t usually call us, and especially not this late at night. Is everything okay, baby?"
Lyandra’s voice carried imdiate concern, her maternal instincts recognizing the unusual behavior.
Hearing her familiar tone, feeling the genuine worry underneath, made sothing in Damian’s chest loosen.
He looked down at his torn clothing, removing his coat and shirt, tossing both into his spatial ring.
Moonlight washed over his muscular fra, highlighting the scars both old and new that covered his enhanced body.
"I just wanted to say I reached the Academy safely. I was in the city earlier handling so organizational matters."
His voice was carefully controlled, almost casual.
"I see... Make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Don’t skip als or push too hard with training. Call us if you need anything at all."
Standard maternal advice. The kind he’d heard hundreds of tis.
But tonight it felt different. More precious and a reminder of what he’d almost lost.
After talking with her for so ti.
Damian paused, the words catching in his throat before he forced them out.
"I love you, Mom. Good night."
Silence on the other end.
Then Lyandra’s voice erged, softer than before.
"...I love you too, Damy. Sleep well."
Then, the call ended.
Damian stood there in the moonlight, feeling oddly lighter despite everything that had happened.
’Why did I say that? It feels too weird!’
****
[Valcor Residence - Master Bedroom]
Lyandra and Alaric sat together on their bed, Lyandra still holding the communication device.
The mont Damian’s connection terminated, the temperature in the room dropped noticeably.
Cold Aura spread from Lyandra’s body like frost, her expression shifting from maternal warmth to sothing absolutely glacial.
Her black eyes, usually soft when looking at family, beca empty of everything except cold calculation.
Alaric’s silver eyes also hardened, his normally relaxed posture straightening, his presence becoming the thing that had made enemies flee across multiple battlefields.
Lyandra turned to look at her husband.
But she didn’t say a word as there was no need to say anything.
They’d both recognized what Damian’s call actually ant.
Their son never called unprompted. Never expressed emotion so openly unless sothing was desperately wrong.
He’d tried to reassure them and tried to sound normal.
But they’d raised that boy for sixteen years. And even if he changed recently, he still showed so similar past behaviours.
Sothing had happened in the city.
Sothing severe enough that he’d needed to hear his mother’s voice before he could feel safe again.
Which ant that sothing had pushed him close enough to the edge that he’d needed reassurance from family.
And whoever had done that was about to learn why the Twin Terrors had been legendary.
****
[Kestrel Noble Family Villa]
The estate sprawled across a full kiloter, multiple buildings housing hundreds of family mbers, servants, and guards.
This was the seat of power for a major branch of the Kestrel Noble Family, wealthy and influential beyond most commoners’ comprehension.
At the center of the compound stood the main house, where the branch leader lived in luxury befitting his status.
Rubious Kestrel. S rank awakener and a mind manipulation specialist.
Father of Mara Kestrel, the Student Council mber Damian had humiliated months ago.
And the man responsible for orchestrating attacks on Ronan’s, Ariana’s and Zavier’s families.
He sat in his study, expensive whiskey in hand, waiting for confirmation that Damian Valcor had been eliminated.
Four A rank operatives should have been more than sufficient.
The boy was talented, yes, but still just C- rank and still just a student
The execution should have been reported hours ago.
But his communication device remained silent.
’What’s taking so long? Killing one teenager shouldn’t require this much ti. Unless...’
Rubious’s eyes narrowed, his S rank perception suddenly detecting sothing wrong.
The villa was too quiet.
No sounds of servants moving through halls. No distant conversations or footsteps. No background noise of a compound housing hundreds of people.
Just... silence.
Eerie, complete and unnatural silence.
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