I Became the Half-Crippled Young Master of the Ducal Family Chapter 4

Chapter 4

White Wolf.

King of the North.

Lord of the Frozen Lands.

The one who had inherited the purest ice through generations.

Those were the titles given to the head of the Winterbell Ducal Family.

Alongside the southern Helios Family, it was one of the most powerful houses on the continent.

A common jest said that the easiest way to distinguish a northerner was to observe their reaction upon hearing the na “Winterbell.”

They either praised it to the extre—or slightly less so.

That was how absolute the Winterbell Family’s influence was in the northern continent.

A lineage that had turned itself into the coldest of blades to survive both the endless monsters and the rciless blizzards.

Survival of the fittest.

Law of the strong.

Honor to the powerful.

To survive was to be strong, and the strong alone survived.

That was the essence of the Winterbell Ducal Family, and this was now that family’s dinner gathering.

“……”

A heavy silence filled the hall.

I knew exactly what my words ant.

Still, after being invited to the family dinner for the first ti in five years, shouldn’t I at least say sothing morable?

It wasn’t as if what I said was wrong.

I truly would beco the head of the Winterbell Family, and those who had opposed would pay the proper price for it.

The one to break the silence first was my third brother, Ron Winterbell. With a look of disbelief, he spoke.

“Ran Winterbell. Have you truly gone mad? Do you even know where you are to spout such nonsense….”

“Enough.”

A voice so cold it could freeze one’s eardrums.

It was just a single word, yet the entire space seed to freeze solid.

At the head of the long table sat a man with snow-white hair.

His hair and skin were as white as eternal snow, and his inhumanly perfect features denied the fact that he was over seventy years old.

The strongest knight on the continent and the head of the Winterbell Ducal Family.

One of the five Deuses that existed in this world, and the King of the North who wielded the primordial ice.

Sword Emperor, Arkan Winterbell.

His blue eyes, reminiscent of the deep sea, turned toward . My breath caught in my throat, though I forced myself not to show it.

“Sit.”

At the duke’s command, Cecil pulled out a chair from the side of the table for . Once I took my seat, the duke began his al, and the rest of my brothers quietly followed suit.

It was clear that this was a al reserved only for the direct bloodline of the family—the quality of the food was on another level entirely.

I couldn’t recall having eaten anything this exquisite in the past decade.

Each ti I chewed on a piece of perfectly roasted at, its savory juices spread through my mouth.

It was a sensation that made my tongue feel as though it were lting.

I couldn’t help but be grateful that I still possessed a sense of taste.

Perhaps none of those gathered here truly understood—

Just how precious it was to eat a al like this.

Ever since I had been exiled to the detached palace, I hadn’t even seen food of this quality. Naturally, there was no private chef assigned to . Everything necessary for my daily life had been handled entirely by Cecil.

The als I ate were all dishes prepared by her.

It reminded once again of just how hopeless my position within the family truly was.

‘Disgusting bastards.’

And yet, why did the food taste so good?

It was so delicious that curses nearly slipped from my mouth.

If it were possible, I wanted to pack up the leftovers after the feast and take them back with .

Ah, but would that offend Cecil?

I honestly wished she could enjoy such food as well. It wasn’t that her cooking lacked flavor—but how many chances would we ever get to taste sothing like this?

“Ran Winterbell.”

What was this pressure?

He had rely called my na, yet every instinct scread that I was in danger.

Was he truly the sa kind of human as ?

“…Yes, my lord.”

I looked up carefully, making sure not to reveal any unnecessary emotion.

He hadn’t released even a hint of his power, yet sohow, I could feel it coiling tightly within him.

Whether it was due to my heightened senses or my frail body, just eting his gaze made it hard to breathe.

But I couldn’t afford to show that.

Right now, I needed to appear not as a weak, useless youngest son—but as soone with at least a sliver of potential, soone who could be seen as a possible successor.

“Was it not you who willingly gave up your rights?”

His tone was openly displeased.

Just hearing that voice made my lungs constrict and my upper body tremble.

“Yet you now claim to stand as a candidate for the successor’s seat again. Does that an you intend to take part in the war of succession once more?”

“Yes.”

It felt as if sothing from the depths of an unfathomable abyss was staring straight through .

“And on what grounds do you make such a claim?”

In other words, how could soone who had thrown away all his rights now shalessly covet the position of family head? I had no argunt against it.

He was right. In the past, I had begged for my life, abandoning my pride, my honor—everything.

I had even attempted suicide.

There was no way he, the duke, didn’t know these things.

The Winterbell Ducal Family, being the continent’s foremost house of swordsn, valued pride above all else.

From his point of view, I was nothing more than a failed loser who had tucked his tail between his legs and fled from battle against his own brothers.

And yet, the duke’s gaze held the faintest trace of curiosity at my change in attitude.

I couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip away.

“I’ll stake my life on it.”

If I made even one mistake, I’d be devoured.

“That is only natural.”

“I will personally prove that even soone like , with a crippled body, can beco the head of this family.”

“With a body that cannot even stand on its own?”

“Yes.”

“……”

The pressure in the air that had been weighing down on began to ease bit by bit.

"You’ve changed."

Crazy.

I had just witnessed a truly shocking sight.

The iron-blooded man, who looked like he wouldn’t bleed even if pierced by a needle, had—ever so faintly—lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Very well. Prove to that you are worthy of it. If you fail to do so, what you lose will not rely be your life."

"...Understood."

Those words carried many anings.

It sounded like a warning that if I couldn’t beco the family head, I would lose everything to my brothers. Or that if I proved to be worthless, he himself would make pay the price.

What mattered was that he had the power to turn his words into reality.

This wouldn’t end with just the loss of my life.

He was clearly thinking of Cecil when he said that.

This was where I stood now.

I had to endure and hold back, knowing that he was a wall I would have to overco soday.

With a body like this, becoming the family head was out of the question—I couldn’t even stand against the knights of the family or those damned brothers.

Even the Twelve Knights of the family were far beyond my reach. To oppose Deus, the strongest swordsman on the continent and the one who wielded the primordial ice, would be suicide.

'But ti is on my side.'

Given enough ti, I was confident that I could even kill that Arkan Winterbell, the man known as the King of the North.

Because I, too, was a Deus.

Publicly, there were four known Machina, and their wielders—the Deuses—were also widely recognized.

The Winterbell family of the North, masters of the primordial ice.

The Helios family of the South, masters of the primordial fla.

The bloodline of the Hero Saladin, masters of the primordial wind.

Callios, commander of the Emperor’s guards, master of the primordial earth.

These forces, often referred to as the Four Elents, were believed to be the source of the Machina.

But that was a misconception.

The soul of the Naless God had not split into four fragnts, but five.

Which ant, naturally, that the true source of the Machina was not four elents—but five.

And the final attribute that completed those five elents was Aether.

The source of my Machina—a colorless power representing both creation and void, opposing yet unified.

Though now it was nothing more than pearls on a pig’s neck, I was convinced that if I continued to elevate the quality of my soul and gained full control over this power, I would one day beco the strongest. Of course, to do that, I’d also need to strengthen my body.

'To wield a Machina like a limb, one must reach at least the realm of Nine Stars. No matter how strong the soul, if the body cannot withstand it, the vessel will eventually shatter.'

There were three known thods of obtaining a Machina.

The first was direct inheritance—where the current wielder passed the power on to another.

The Winterbell and Helios families, as well as the Imperial family, had preserved this thod through generations.

The second was to kill the current wielder and take the power by force.

Logically, it was nearly impossible to kill a Deus unless one was a Deus themselves. Still, on rare occasions, it did happen. For example, in the past, the head of the Winterbell family was assassinated, and the family poured all its efforts into hunting down the killer and reclaiming the Machina.

The third thod occurred when the wielder died of natural causes and the Machina selected a new master on its own.

That had been my case. Thanks to that, I ca to realize that a fifth Machina—called Aether—truly existed.

I didn’t know why all knowledge of the fifth Machina had vanished, but for , the one who inherited its power, it wasn’t a bad thing at all.

After all, as fellow Deuses, they would surely desire to obtain other Machinas eventually.

‘He who reclaims all Machina becos a true god.’

There was no evidence backing that rumor, but it was an open truth that Deuses were drawn to each other’s Machina.

If it beca known that I was, in fact, a Deus, it would cause chaos not only within the family but across the entire continent.

But I had no intention of revealing that truth to anyone—at least, not yet.

The more valuable the card, the greater its worth when played at the most crucial mont.

‘There’s still sothing I don’t understand. Since Saladin killed , my Machina should have passed to him... So why was it passed on to a hundred years later?’

At that mont, my third brother, Ron Winterbell, opened his mouth.

“Father.”

When the family head, Arkan, silently looked his way, Ron hastily corrected himself.

“…Lord.”

Unless it was a private eting, addressing the family head as “Father” was one of the unspoken taboos in the family.

But Ron Winterbell seed so flustered that he even forgot sothing that basic.

Ron Winterbell, my third brother.

He had been one of the worst torntors of mine since the past.

Though we shared the sa father, we had different mothers. Technically, we were half-brothers, sharing only half our blood. Perhaps that’s why he was able to tornt even more freely.

There were eight siblings in the Winterbell ducal family, myself included—and I was the youngest.

The eldest was Ryan Winterbell. The second son was Lux Winterbell. Then ca three sisters. Ron Winterbell was next, after them.

So while he was the third among the male siblings, he was actually the sixth child in order. Our age difference wasn’t that great either, likely for the sa reason.

The fourth son, Dial Winterbell, was two years older than and the one sibling I could speak with sowhat comfortably. Unfortunately, he was currently attending the Academy.

At this mont, there were five siblings present, including .

Second son Lux Winterbell, eldest daughter Lin Winterbell, second daughter Marian Winterbell, and the foolish Ron Winterbell.

"Just get to the point."

Ron Winterbell flinched slightly at the far colder tone than he'd expected, but he continued speaking nonetheless.

"That bastard is lying to you right now, Lord."

The family head’s gaze shifted toward Ron Winterbell.

"Explain."

Overwheld by the sheer pressure, Ron broke into a nervous sweat as he went on.

"He claims to be half-crippled, but in reality, that’s not the case at all! Ran Winterbell is perfectly capable of walking. He’s just pretending, putting on an act to win your trust, Lord."

"An act, you say..."

It had been part of the plan from the start—Legion was ant to report his findings about to Ron Winterbell. Given Ron’s nature, I had expected him to do whatever he could to make the matter public.

I just hadn’t anticipated it would be now.

Second son Lux Winterbell looked at with intrigue. Though he always wore a pleasant smile, he was soone who rarely revealed his true thoughts.

‘Even his known abilities may just be a smokescreen.’

The family head asked,

"Can you take responsibility for that claim?"

Responsibility.

A heavy word.

In this house, unless you were absolutely certain of what you were saying, you never used the word responsibility lightly.

"Y-Yes, I can. We can call my close friend Legion right now to testify…"

Arkan stood up from his seat, as if there was no need to hear any more.

"That won’t be necessary."

"...Pardon?"

"I’ll confirm it myself."

"There’s no need for you to go to such lengths, Lord—"

"Do you object?"

With just that one sentence from the family head, Ron imdiately backed down.

"...N-No, not at all."

In truth, there was no more reliable way to verify anything than having Arkan Winterbell, the family head, check for himself. Though he had wielded the sword all his life and had no particular expertise in dicine, a martial master of Arkan’s caliber could discern the state of soone’s body just by touching them.

"Co here."

At his command, Cecil wheeled forward to him.

"Give your hand."

"……"

I silently extended my hand.

My thin, pale hand was soon covered by his massive, scar-covered one.

From his fingertips, I felt mana slowly flow into . It was a minute amount, but as it coursed through my veins, my entire bloodstream felt like it was boiling over.

‘...Insane. This guy's a real monster!’

The pain was indescribable, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to remain conscious. Cold sweat soaked my back, and veins bulged on my forehead.

"Kgh..."

It didn’t really matter how thoroughly he examined —my lower body was still ruined, and that wouldn’t change. The only reason I’d been able to move my legs during the fight with Legion was because I had manipulated mana to temporarily reconnect the severed nerves.

If anything, my condition had worsened since then.

There hadn’t been even the slightest improvent.

But that wasn’t what I was truly worried about.

‘My power as a Deus.’

Since Arkan was also a Deus, there was a chance—however slim—that he could sense the Machina residing within .

‘There are only four known Deuses in the world, so he probably wouldn’t jump to conclusions imdiately… Still, I can’t afford to take that risk.’

To prepare for the worst-case scenario, I condensed the Machina deep within my heart and used Aether to mask it entirely.

That was the limit of what I could do at my current level. It hadn’t been long since my mories from my previous life returned, so I still lacked full control over the Machina.

Using it in this state had only further strained my already frail body—but there was no helping it.

The present ca first.

Without the present, there was no future.

I couldn’t let this newly awakened power be discovered by him without any preparations in place.

‘I have to endure. The mont I lose consciousness, it’s all over.’

It hadn’t even been twenty seconds yet...

But it felt like twenty hours had passed.

‘Hurry up already! What’s there to check when I’m crippled anyway?!’

As if he’d heard my inner plea, Arkan finally withdrew the mana that had been swirling inside . The crushing pressure that had been tightening around my body lifted, and a sigh of relief escaped involuntarily.

But... why did this unease linger?

He’d checked himself—shouldn’t he say sothing?

"Ran Winterbell."

The mont Arkan called my na, it felt like my heart stopped.

There was a chill embedded in his voice so intense, it made my skin sting.

"That power. Where did you get it?"