Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes Chapter 87 : The Lion's Word

The villagers’ laughter died like a candle snuffed out when a shadow lood over them.

Darius Valemont stood tall at the gate, sleeves rolled, his sword still at his hip though he hadn’t touched it. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was steel.

“Enough.”

The word landed heavier than any shout. Silence clung to the field. Even the slaves froze, uncertain if they’d just been spared or condemned.

Darius’ gaze swept across the villagers like a plow over soil, unhurried, absolute.

“This land may be forgotten by the empire, but it is not lawless.” His voice rumbled, steady and clear. “While you stand on Valemont ground, hear well: there will be no cruelty. No mockery. No treating lives as tools.”

One of the younger n fidgeted. “But—lord Valemont, they’re slaves. Property—”

The air snapped sharp. Darius’ hand twitched near his sword, and that was enough to send the man stumbling back.

“They are people,” Darius cut him off. His eyes, darker than thunderclouds, locked onto each villager in turn. “They will work if they wish. They will eat when you eat. And if you cannot stomach laboring beside them, you may leave my fields and never return.”

The silence thickened. No one dared speak.

Rooga, crouched by the fence, felt his chest swell. The villagers’ sneers looked smaller now, pitiful, as if their power had drained away.

Finally, Darius turned, softer, but no less firm. He looked at the five slaves, each standing with their heads bowed, afraid to et his eyes.

“You’ve been dragged here against your will. I won’t pretend chains vanish with a word. But while you live under my roof, you will not be treated as less.”

He stepped forward, kneeling so he wasn’t towering above the elf woman with one arm. She trembled, but when his calloused hand rested gently on her shoulder, his voice lowered.

“You are free to walk from here. Or you may stay and work, eat, and sleep as one of my people. The choice is yours.”

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Rooga held his breath. Papa’s letting them choose…?

The slaves looked at each other, fear warring with disbelief. Slowly, the beastkin man stepped forward, bowed low, and rasped out, “Then… we stay. Not as slaves. As hands that work this land.”

The others nodded, hesitant but firm.

Darius rose, towering once more, and faced the villagers. “Then it is settled. From this day forward, Valemont soil knows no slave.”

His words rolled across the field like thunder. The villagers shifted uneasily, but none dared argue.

Behind them, Rooga’s HUD flickered faintly.

[ Condition t: Witnessed Justice. ]

[ Hidden Title Unlocked: Heir to Valemont. ]

Rooga didn’t understand the words fully, but his heart pounded.

Papa… really is a lion.

I crouched low, hiding behind the swaying stalks as the crowd dispersed. The slaves had chosen to stay. The villagers, though muttering, had lowered their heads and accepted Papa’s word.

But the mont burned into my heart wasn’t their silence.

It was the way Papa stood.

Unmoving. Unbending.

Not because of a sword. Not because of fear.

Because he believed.

That’s what it ans to be Valemont, that what i thought, as i clenched my small fists so tight they shook.

His HUD flickered again, faint lines of text that he barely glanced at this ti.

[ Hidden Title: Heir to Valemont ]

[ Effect: Resolve strengthens willpower. Actions rooted in conviction gain 10% efficiency. ]

I didn’t need the HUD to tell what I already felt.

If Papas strength was his blade, then I decided my own would be the land itself.

That night, when the others slept, I crept barefoot to the tree. Maori sat at its roots, her toddler-like form hugging her knees. She perked up when she saw .

“Rooga? You’re late. I was waiting for my bloom.”

I didn’t laugh at her pout this ti. My face was too serious for a child.

“Maori,” placing his tiny palm against the bark, “I want this land to shine brighter than any other. I want people to look at it and see hope. Not just for us. For everyone.”

Maori blinked, tilting her head. “You sound like a king, not a boy.”

I shook h=my head. “I’m not a king. I’m just Rooga Valemont. But if Papa can make people listen, then I’ll make them see.”

I channeled my mana. Aqua Bloom swelled into existence, not one or two, but three at once, glowing spheres floating above his head. The green-and-blue shimr bathed in light.

Maori’s eyes widened, caught between glee and awe. “You’re going to burn yourself out again if you—”

“I don’t care,” I cut her off. My voice trembled. “If it’s for Papa. For Mama. For Elara. For Riaz. For this land… then I’ll give everything I have.”

The blooms sank into the soil around the roots. The tree pulsed faintly, its leaves glowing with a richer, deeper green. A new wisp flickered into being, floating gently before drifting toward the fields.

Maori stared at , her little mouth hanging open. For the first ti, she didn’t scold . She just whispered, almost reverently:

“…You really are a monster. But maybe… my monster.”

I sagged to the ground, panting, but smiling through the sweat.

In that mont, I resolved it.

No more distractions. No more half-efforts.

If Papa was the sword of the empire, then I, Rooga Valemont, would be the root of the land.

And no one would ever call my family weak again.