Thousands of kilometers away from the Wargrave estate, another massive castle could be seen stretching out across vast meters of land. Its walls stood tall and majestic, towering with defiance as the castle itself seemed to pierce the sky like a challenge to the heavens.
This was the Silvershade Ducal Household Estate.
Roughly six months ago, the Silvershades had suffered immense losses, both financially and reputationally, after they were forced to open their secret family vault and spend their hard-earned coins to pay the Duke of Wargrave.
It had all happened because Duke Rhydion Silvershade had lost a bet, one that he himself had suggested, confident in his success.
Following that costly mistake, the entire household’s daily affairs changed. Most noticeably, their meals. The quality and rarity of the food served in the estate dropped by nearly half, causing whispers among the servants and discontent among the family members.
They had been forced to adjust their lifestyle to match their new, tighter budget. But not everyone was happy. In fact, most weren’t. Their luxurious existence had been slashed in half as though struck by an invisible spear.
Within a private chamber layered in extreme opulence, Duke Rhydion sat calmly at a grand desk, signing a series of documents in hand. His pen glided smoothly across the pages as he worked in silence.
Despite the events that had unfolded six months prior, his presence remained unshaken, composed and authoritative. Though the Silvershade family’s reputation had been dragged through the mud, and they had lost a significant portion of their wealth, Rhydion had chosen to stay secluded in his castle rather than face society.
He held no hatred toward the Wargraves.
He had made the bet. He had taken the risk. He had simply wanted to make quick coin and make the Wargraves suffer a public loss. Instead, he had been the one humiliated.
But it didn’t bother him. Not truly. In the end, it was just money, and Rhydion had plenty of that.
As for Ryan, the one who had lost the bet for the family, Rhydion had thrown him into even harsher training. He made it clear that Ryan wouldn’t be leaving the training grounds until he met a certain standard, one that Rhydion himself had set.
Suddenly, the quiet of the chamber was broken by a sharp knock on the door.
"Come in," Rhydion’s voice echoed, calm and commanding.
The door creaked open, and a butler entered with graceful steps and composed eyes. However, before he could even offer a greeting, Rhydion cut him off with a calm, even tone.
"What is it?" he asked, his eyes still glued to the documents before him as his hand continued to move without pause.
"The Tenth Sun’s True Awakening is set to begin in a few days," the butler replied respectfully.
At those words, Rhydion’s pen finally paused. His gaze slowly lifted from the parchment, settling on the butler with a quiet intensity, as though he were finally granting the man his full attention.
"And what am I supposed to do with that information?" Rhydion asked, his voice low. "I hope you’re not here to suggest I intervene."
"I wouldn’t dare suggest anything to the Duke," the butler replied immediately, bowing low with deep respect.
"Then why are you here?" Rhydion asked once again, his patience thinning. He detested unnecessary interruptions, especially while working.
The butler straightened and finally delivered the reason for his presence.
"The Young Master, Ryan, is already moving to intervene."
Rhydion’s calm expression shifted into a sharp frown.
"How stupid can that idiot possibly be?" he muttered, voice dropping into something dangerous. "Does he think the Wargraves’ reputation is exaggerated? That their name is just empty noise?"
He didn’t need further details. He already knew what Ryan was trying to do. Likely sending assassins to strike during the True Awakening, attempting to sneak a wolf into a pen of chickens.
"Tell him I said to do nothing foolish, or I’ll personally cut off his arm," Rhydion stated coldly. "And head to whatever guild he placed the order through, cancel it immediately. Remove all traces."
"As you command, Patriarch," the butler replied, bowing once more before quickly exiting the room.
As the door closed behind him, Rhydion let out a long, slow sigh. Ryan wasn’t the first to attempt something so foolish.
It was practically tradition.
During the Wargraves’ infamous True Awakenings, other noble families, and even the Royal Family at times, would attempt to interfere. Assassins would be sent. Sabotage arranged. All in a desperate effort to eliminate a potential threat before it could fully bloom.
But the Wargraves weren’t fools. They were always prepared.
Every assassin who dared to cross their lines was hunted down, their information extracted through blood and agony. A massacre would follow. No matter the size of the assassin guild, they would be wiped out that same day.
And if the order had come from a noble house? That family would join them in the grave.
The Wargraves were merciless, terrifyingly so. They had never once married into other noble families, forging no political bonds. This made them immune to manipulation, unbound by subtle favors or alliances and manipulations.
And when all was said and done? They left no evidence.
No proof. No trace. No punishment.
Rhydion knew that if Azeron Wargrave so much as caught a scent of Silvershade involvement, he and his estate would be leveled within minutes.
They were simply too united, too disciplined, too monstrous to cross.
’I wonder if the boy will survive,’ Rhydion thought, his black eyes narrowing with interest.
Then, without another word, his pen began moving once more.
Thousands of kilometers away from the Silvershade estate, deep within the Royal Palace, another man had also received word of Asher’s impending True Awakening.
Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor.
Normally, no one outside of the Wargrave family paid much attention to these ceremonies. They were internal, private, uninteresting to outsiders.
But this time... they all watched.
Whispers had already begun to spread.
Would he survive?
Or...
Would he finally fall?