Duke Ibzles sat in his dimly lit study, fingers gripping the armrests of his chair. The air felt thick, suffocating with tension.
He was uneasy.
The royal army had stationed itself within his territory, shackling his every move.
He couldn't mobilize his troops or act without scrutiny.
The Coalition Army had been annihilated. All the noble houses that had joined the war against Armand were now suffering.
Resources depleted. Morale shattered. The once-mighty coalition had collapsed into ruins.
And now—
The king's forces were watching.
Waiting.
Ibzles' breath ca out slow and controlled, but deep down, panic gnawed at his mind.
"Damn it all… this wasn't supposed to happen."
Armand was supposed to fall. Javier De Armand was ant to be nothing more than a troubleso child—not a monster who wiped out armies.
And Garius—
Ibzles gritted his teeth.
That man.
That damned man.
Even now, Count Garius De Armand remained untouched. Unfazed. A king without a crown.
The royal court had done nothing. The Armand family had crushed their enemies with impunity.
And yet—
No punishnt. No consequences. No orders from the king.
Nothing.
Ibzles clenched his fists. This silence was worse than anything.
Sothing was coming.
He could feel it.
And when it arrived—
Would it be his salvation?
Or his execution?
A knock echoed through the dimly lit study.
Duke Ibzles barely looked up, his thoughts a storm of frustration and paranoia.
The door creaked open. His personal butler stepped inside, bowing respectfully.
"My lord."
Ibzles scowled. "What!?"
The butler remained composed. "There is soone who wishes to et you."
Ibzles narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
"He said it's urgent."
The duke's fingers drumd against his desk.
Urgent.
That word made him uneasy.
"Hmm… And what if he's an assassin sent by Garius?" His voice was laced with suspicion.
The butler shook his head. "We have already checked. He does not carry a weapon."
Ibzles exhaled through his nose.
"That ans nothing." His golden eyes darkened. "What if he's a magic user?"
Silence.
The butler hesitated.
Because that was the real danger.
A single magic caster could do far more damage than a blade ever could.
Ibzles leaned forward, his voice a quiet snarl. "If he tries anything, I'll have his head removed before he speaks another word."
The butler bowed. "Understood, my lord. Shall I bring him in?"
The duke's expression remained cold.
After a long pause—
He nodded.
"Let's see what this 'urgent matter' is."
Duke Ibzles sat stiffly in his chair, his sharp eyes locked onto the figure being led into the room.
A man.
Barefoot, dressed in nothing but a single cloth wrapped around his waist.
No armor. No robes. No jewelry. No weapons.
Yet—
Ibzles felt a suffocating pressure the mont the man entered.
Sothing wasn't right.
This man carried no visible strength, yet his presence unnerved the duke more than a battalion of knights.
The air felt wrong.
Like the room itself had darkened, as if the flickering candlelight dimd just from his existence.
Ibzles swallowed his discomfort, masking it with a scowl.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "State your business."
The man smiled.
It was a slow, deliberate smile—one that held no warmth.
Then, in a voice smooth as silk yet carrying an unsettling weight, he spoke.
"Power, my lord."
Ibzles stiffened.
The man's eyes—deep, dark, and knowing—never blinked.
"I am here to give you power."
A chill ran down the duke's spine.
Sowhere deep in his gut, he knew—
This man was not ordinary.
Duke Ibzles narrowed his eyes. "What do you an… power?"
The man did not blink.
Instead, his smile deepened—calm, confident, unwavering.
"I know, my lord. Your army—along with the entire coalition—was crushed. You have lost many n, many resources. And now… you can do nothing."
His voice was smooth, almost mocking.
"Because King Edmund has stepped in."
Ibzles' fingers twitched against the armrest of his chair.
He hated hearing it spoken aloud. His failure. His helplessness.
"So?" His tone was sharp. "What's your point?"
The man let out a soft chuckle.
"What if I told you… you could beco more powerful?"
Ibzles felt his breath hitch.
The man's voice lowered, filled with sothing dangerous.
"What if I told you… you could rise above all?"
The candles flickered.
"Even stronger… than the summoned heroes before?"
Ibzles' heart pounded.
He wasn't sure if it was fear.
Or anticipation.
"...Tell more."
Ibzles' personal butler stood silently near the edge of the room, his posture straight, his expression neutral.
Around him, the elite guard unit stood in disciplined formation, their hands resting on their weapons. Watching. Waiting.
Their eyes remained locked onto the mysterious man.
And yet—
None of them could hear a single word.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
The only thing the butler could see was his lord—Duke Ibzles—leaning forward, speaking in hushed tones.
And then…
The grin.
A slow, deliberate grin spread across Ibzles' face.
Sothing about it sent a shiver down the butler's spine.
What could make his master smile like that… after everything they had lost?
What were they talking about?
The butler had no idea.
And sohow…
He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.
"Oh… really?"
Ibzles' voice was laced with intrigue, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Across from him, the mysterious man smiled.
"Yes, my esteed lord." His tone was smooth, unwavering.
Ibzles leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "Are you really sure?"
The man's smile did not fade.
"Yes."
Ibzles exhaled through his nose. "I didn't know they were 'hiding' that 'thing.'"
The butler stiffened.
That thing?
What were they talking about?
The mysterious man tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes gleaming.
"Yes, my esteed lord. If you act now… if you take the right steps… you can gain that power."
His voice lowered.
"And beco stronger."
Ibzles' fingers stopped tapping. His entire body went still.
The mysterious man leaned in.
And then—
He whispered sothing.
Sothing only Ibzles could hear.
The duke's breath hitched.
Then, slowly—
A manic grin stretched across his face.
The butler felt a chill run down his spine.
What had that man just said?
Ibzles' manic grin lingered as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at the mysterious man.
"Tell … why are you telling this?"
The man's smile remained unchanged, as if he had been expecting the question.
"It's simple, my esteed lord." His voice was calm. "I will benefit from it."
Ibzles raised a brow.
"Oh?" His fingers tapped against the armrest. "So that's it. You want money? Won? Land?"
The mysterious man let out a soft chuckle.
"Ah, no, my esteed lord. I don't need any of that."
His dark eyes glead with sothing unreadable.
"Let's just say… it's personal interest."
Ibzles scoffed.
"Hmph! Very well. If what you say is true… if I rise above everyone else…"
He leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.
"Are you sure you don't want anything?"
The man's smile widened just a little.
And for the first ti—
His eyes held sothing else.
Sothing deeper.
Sothing dangerous.
But when he spoke, his tone remained smooth and effortless.
"No, my esteed lord. I will take what I need… when the ti cos."
Ibzles paused.
For a brief second—just a brief one—he felt sothing off.
But the temptation was already there.
And he wanted power.
Nothing else mattered.
( End of Chapter )
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