The chamber grew eerily silent as Archbishop Malphas knelt before the grotesque idol of Peru. The flickering torches dimd, their flas swaying as if a dark presence lood over them. The cultists watched in bated breath as their leader pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor, his hands trembling as he began to chant.
"O, Great Lord Peru, we beseech you. Guide us in this hour of need. Show us the path to ensure your grand ascension."
A deep, guttural whisper filled the chamber, reverberating through the walls like a chorus of tortured souls. Malphas’s body convulsed as an unseen force seized him. His eyes rolled back, glowing with a faint red hue. His breathing turned ragged, and then—silence.
Monts passed.
Then, suddenly, Malphas let out a choked gasp. His body jerked upright, his face twisted in fury. His nails dug into his own palms, drawing blood.
"Blasphemy!" he roared, his voice distorted with rage. "This boy... this Kael Veydrin... he dares to interfere with the divine will of our Lord?!"
The cultists flinched at his outburst as Malphas staggered to his feet, his body trembling with barely contained wrath. His usually cold and calculated deanor had cracked, revealing an unfiltered, seething hatred.
He turned, his piercing eyes burning with malice, and stord out of the prayer chamber.
......
As Malphas erged, the waiting cultists imdiately rushed forward, their voices overlapping in concern.
"Archbishop, what did you see?"
"What should we do now?"
Malphas clenched his fists, his rage still boiling. "Spread his na across the land. Announce a bounty on his head!"
A murmur of shock swept through the room.
"What?!"
"Why?"
"This is troubleso."
"He is the Son of the Grand Duke, not so commoner!"
"Hunting him could bring unwanted attention to us!"
Malphas’s cold glare silenced them. He took a step forward, his voice laced with nace.
"We have no other option."
His words hung heavy in the air.
"If we don’t act now, he will beco a far greater threat in the future. He is no longer the weakling we thought him to be. His growth must be stopped now before he becos untouchable."
Silence. Then, whispers of agreent spread among the cultists.
Finally, one of them hesitantly asked, "How much should we set the bounty for?"
Malphas did not hesitate. "1,000 gold."
A silence ensued after that.
"That’s too low!"
"Who said it’s low?! That’s already the standard bounty for a D-rank target!"
"But he’s not just D-rank, is he? He must have strong knights protecting him!"
"If he had knights guarding him at all tis, wouldn’t they have been there in Astros? He was alone, which ans 1,000 gold is more than enough."
"You’re a fool!" another cultist spat. "If he had no strong allies, how did he foil our plan? Clearly, soone powerful is backing him!"
The room erupted into heated argunts, voices clashing as opinions flew back and forth.
Malphas stood still, watching the chaos unfold. Then, with a sharp exhale, he raised his hand.
"Enough."
The voices ceased instantly.
His gaze swept across the room, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"Raise it to 20,000 gold."
A heavy silence fell.
Then, slowly, murmurs of approval spread through the chamber.
"20,000..."
"That’s... a huge amount."
"It will attract assassins, rcenaries, bounty hunters... every rat looking for gold."
Malphas smirked darkly. "Exactly."
The decree was set.
Kael Veydrin’s na would soon spread across the underworld marked with a price.
...
The scent of fresh earth and sweet blossoms lingered in the air as Ramos, his white beard fluttering slightly in the breeze, walked ahead with his usual confident gait. Behind him followed Chris, Baret, and Lyria.
The knights stationed along the path straightened at the sight of Ramos. One by one, they saluted, their voices echoing with respect.
"Sir Ramos!"
"Lord Ramos, may your wisdom shine eternally!"
"Truly, the backbone of House Veydrin!"
Ramos puffed his chest with pride, stroking his beard with a smug grin as he soaked in the admiration. His lips curled into a satisfied smile, nodding at each knight as if bestowing his approval. The flattery soothed his vanity, and he let out a pleased chuckle.
Lyria, however, observed everything with a detached gaze. As a demon, the ways of humans were both fascinating and pitiful to her. Their obsession with hierarchy, honor, and fleeting praise—it was so fragile. Yet, they clung to it desperately, as if it gave their short lives aning.
"So frail, so limited... yet, they hold onto pride as if it shields them from death."
She glanced at Ramos, whose expression radiated self-satisfaction, and then at Chris, who looked troubled. Unlike the old man basking in his own importance, Chris had sothing else weighing on his mind.
"Grandpa Ramos," Chris finally spoke, breaking the mont. "How is the Grand Duke?"
Ramos’s steps slowed slightly. His smirk faded just a bit.
"I an... how is his behavior?"
The old knight exhaled deeply, rubbing his chin.
"I can’t say much."
He stopped walking entirely, his eyes glinting with sothing between frustration and reluctant admiration.
"As a human being, he is a failure."
THUD!
Baret and Gare, the two knights trailing behind, almost stumbled. They exchanged nervous glances.
"Did we just hear sothing we shouldn’t have?"
Without a word, they both took a step back, trying to distance themselves from the conversation.
But Ramos’s sharp eyes caught them. His gaze froze them in place.
He continued, voice calm but cutting, "As a husband, he is a piece of shit."
The expressions of everyone darkened.
"As a father, he is worse than a piece of shit."
A heavy silence followed. Even Chris, who had asked the question, regretted it.
"But..." Ramos suddenly paused, his mind drifting to the past. His voice softened slightly.
"As a Lord—he is the epito of what a Grand Duke should be. Rules, pride, and honor... There might not be a single person more fitting to uphold them than him."
Chris thought for a mont and then smiled. "I think you might have been a good Lord too."
Ramos’ expression stiffened a bit and his fingers twitched slightly.
A shadow crossed his face as an old, unsavory mory stirred—one he had spent years running from. A past he was too much of a coward to face.
Then, with a sudden shift, he burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! Of course! I am the best!" he declared, quickly regaining his usual boastful tone. "You might not know this, but that little shit begged and cried, hugging my knees!"
Ramos dramatically wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.
"He pleaded with to leave so that he could take the title of Duke. If I hadn’t stepped aside, he’d still be groveling in the dirt!"
His laughter echoed through the garden.
Then he turned around only to see Baret,and Gare sprinting away at full speed, as if running for their lives.
"Huh?" Ramos blinked. "Why the hell are they running?"
His confusion deepened as he spotted Chris subtly guiding Lyria in the opposite direction.
"Why is everyone running—?"His voice paused when a shadow lood over him.A sharp chill crawled up his spine.
He felt sothing cold wash over his body, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around.
There, standing with arms folded, a devilish smirk curling on his lips was none other than Ruth Veydrin, the Grand Duke himself.
His sharp eyes glead with pure malice.
"So..." Ruth asked in a dangerously low voice.
"So,I groveled before you? I begged you to let beco Duke?"
"I cried before you, huh!"Ruth asked coldly but his lips started to widen with a sinister maniac smile.
Ramos felt his soul leave his body seeing that expression.
"FUCKKK! Why does his face look as evil as Kael’s?!?!"He knew, in that mont he had fucked up.
A lot far away, Rami closed his eyes and already burnt incense on Sir Ramos
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