The silence after the clash was deafening. Not a soul moved. Not even the wind dared to breathe through the grand hall. Aden stood alone in the center, his sword heavy with blood, his crimson aura still lingering in the air like a dying flame.
Lord Verrien writhed at his feet, his severed arm staining the polished marble floor, his breath ragged and shallow. Lord Verrien, once proud and untouchable, now looked up at Aden with a mixture of hatred and disbelief.
The Emperor rose from his throne, his voice slicing through the tension like a whip.
"The duel is over. Victory belongs to Aden Vasco."
His words rang across the court, final and unquestionable. A ripple of murmurs began to spread, but no one dared speak too loudly.
Verrien's lips curled in disgust. "This clearly wasn't a duel," he spat, blood flecking his chin. "He striked me with clear killing intent."
Aden didn't move. Didn't flinch. He simply looked down at him, eyes unreadable.
The Emperor's gaze turned to Verrien, cold and absolute. "You stepped into the circle. You drew your blade. And you lost."
Two knights approached and began lifting Verrien from the ground. His family, seated near the eastern columns, watched with clenched jaws and trembling hands—silent in their disgrace.
All eyes returned to Aden.
Still, he stood motionless, like a monument forged from rage and resolve. The blood on his blade slowly dried, flaking away as the air grew heavy again.
It was done.
But the hall was far from calm.
The silence fractured like glass.
Murmurs turned into whispers, whispers into voices, and soon the entire hall rippled with conversation. Nobles leaned toward one another, fanning themselves with silk-gloved hands, their faces flushed with awe or twisted in unease.
"A red aura… could it be true wrath manifestation?"
"He's barely seventeen…"
"Did you see how he moved? Like a seasoned warrior."
"Just like the Black Knights. No, perhaps even more refined."
The words swirled around Aden like a storm cloud he refused to acknowledge. He could feel it all—envy, fear, admiration, dread—pressing in from every corner of the hall.
From the gallery above, the King of Sael leaned forward slightly, a rare frown etched into his stern face.
"So this is the Vasco heir…" he muttered, more to himself than to his children.
The prince looked down at Aden, eyes narrowed in cautious intrigue. "He could turn out to be a bigger problem in the future."
"It's better we take him to our side," the princess added softly. "Maybe we could use him."
The king let out a low sigh. "A man like that is either a shield—or a sword waiting to fall on someone's neck."
Their conversation faded beneath the rising chatter.
Further along, in the elegantly adorned booth of the Chrono family, a different kind of conversation took place. The Queen leaned into her husband's side, her eyes fixed on Aden's unmoving figure.
"He hasn't changed much," she said softly.
"Not in form," Emperor replied. "But there's something about him now."
Althea Chrono, the princess, turned to her older brother, Clovis. "Brother , You knew him once, didn't you? when you were kids"
Clovis didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained on Aden, a quiet war playing in his mind.
"He used to laugh easily," Clovis finally said. "Challenged me to duels we weren't supposed to fight. He was reckless, but… human."
Althea tilted her head. "And now?"
"Now he looks like someone who's forgotten how to be anything but a weapon."
The Queen gently clasped her son's hand. "Even so, you should speak with him after this. He may still need a friend."
Clovis nodded faintly. But in his heart, he wondered if the Aden Vasco he once knew was already gone.
As the hall gradually returned to its rhythm, one figure rose from the upper dais—measured, quiet, and cold as marble.
Ed Vasco.
His footsteps echoed through the vast chamber, and though no words passed, the crowd instinctively parted for him. Nobles who'd moments ago spoken freely now watched in hushed reverence, some stiffening, others bowing their heads slightly.
He stopped in front of Aden.
Father and son.
Their reflections glinted in the bloodied steel of Aden's blade—one dulled with years of power, the other newly sharpened by war.
"You've grown," Ed said, his voice low and steady.
Aden's eyes remained locked on his father's, unreadable. "..."
"I expected you to survive," Ed replied. "And you did."
There was a pause. Tension clung to every breath between them.
"You showed strength," Ed said at last. "But understand—one victory doesn't mean you're safe. It only means the knives will come sharper next time."
Aden tilted his head. "Let them."
That earned a faint twitch at the corner of Ed Vasco's lips. Whether it was amusement or warning, no one could tell.
"You should return to the household," Ed said. "There are things we need to discuss. Father to Son."
Aden didn't respond at first. Then, a slow nod.
"Understood."
Ed's gaze lingered just a moment longer. "Good."
Then, without another word, the head of House Vasco turned and walked away—his presence cutting through the crowd like a blade, leaving silence in his wake.
The heavy silence returned as Ed Vasco left the chamber, but it didn't last.
The Emperor stood once more, and immediately the room straightened—shoulders pulled back, cups were lowered, and murmurs died mid-syllable.
He raised a hand.
"In light of the duel's outcome," the Emperor declared, his voice commanding yet calm, "Aden Vasco has proven himself not only as a formidable swordsman but as a weapon the Empire cannot ignore."
Gasps followed. Some hopeful. Others horrified.
The Emperor spoke in his high voice, "Aden Vasco made a promise that he would clear all of Dahaka."
"Therefore," he continued, "Aden Vasco and his team will be dispatched to Sector 12 of Dahaka."
The chamber exploded into murmurs and sharp gasps. A few nobles rose in protest.
"Your Majesty! Sector 12 is—"
"—a death sentence!"
"—how could he even clear it?"
But the Emperor silenced them with a single look. "You speak as though you haven't seen his power."
The King of Sael leaned to his son, muttering, "This is beyond political theater now. They're either testing him or trying to get rid of him."
His son stayed silent for a few seconds, then replied "Wait..--- Sector 12, isn't that where the runes are located?"
that's when the King of Sael realized, Chrono's intention was never to clear it in the name of eliminating outside threats, it was to obtain vast amounts of rune stones, located in the heart of Dahaka.
Although the Dahaka could be cleared by a few Swords masters, the reason neither the Five Great Houses of the Chronos Kingdom tried to clear it was because of a Verbal agreement between the Five Dukes, they all tried to clear it when they were young but ultimately failed somehow, so they decided that they would leave it for their heirs to clear it instead.
After the Declaration Aden was invited to the Discussion Chamber. he moved inside and stood there, awaiting someone.
At the far right of the chamber, a tall figure stepped forward from the Chrono side—the Imperial Advisor, clad in formal navy robes etched with golden runes.
"I've received partial reports on Sector 12," Advisor said. "The area is crawling with undead—an entire High Lich encampment has rooted itself in the obsidian valley."
He turned to Aden, voice calm but urgent. "A single High Lich is bad enough. But this one's different. It's organizing. Controlling hundreds—possibly more. They're building an entire army."
Aden narrowed his eyes. "Why"
The Advisor replied. "We don't know yet."
The Emperor entered the chamber and nodded. "And you will be the one to find out."
Aden nodded once, accepting his fate without question.
Aden collected the grids and paperwork of the sector and move out to the Banquet hall alongside the Emperor.
After the declaration, the nobles shifted again. This time, they approached Aden one by one.
Some extended hands with false smiles. "Lord Vasco, if ever you require support, the House of Melgrave would be honored to assist—"
Others were more direct.
"You have great potential, you know," whispered a viscount in passing. "I can provide you great assistance. Choose your allies carefully."
And a few—especially the younger nobles—offered something unexpected.
"Join my family's guard force," said a young heir. "We'll give you command."
Aden said nothing. He simply moved through them, eyes scanning the room, already thinking ahead.
The palace had long since quieted. Midnight draped the Vasco quarters in silver light, filtering through the high arched windows. Servants were gone, the hallways silent—save for the occasional flicker of candlelight against the stone.
Aden sat on a bench in the private garden behind the Vasco wing. The wind stirred the lavender trees, the petals brushing against his shoulder like ghosts of a time long past.
The sword rested beside. His hands were steady. His thoughts were not.
He looked up at the sky—clear, cold, eternal. The moon stared down like a single, watchful eye.
He'd won the duel. He'd stood tall in front of the Empire. But why did the victory feel so hollow?
He thought of his siblings—the look in their eyes. Of Ed Vasco's words. Of the nobles who now circled like vultures, cloaked in silk.
And just as the silence thickened—
A vision surged through him.
Aden gasped and clutched his head, heart racing. His surroundings blurred, reality slipping away.
He stood now on a battlefield, awash in red light. A figure cloaked in crimson stood at the center, unmoving, surrounded by hundreds of corpses. Their blood soaked the earth, their eyes glassy and empty.
The figure didn't move. But Aden recognized the posture.
It was him.
And across from the figure—farther away—stood another. Younger. Dressed in modern clothes. Park Hyun.
Hyun held out his arms, pleading. The red figure turned And then—something unexpected happened.
The red figure reached forward and held Park Hyun's hands.
Hyun's face changed—no longer filled with pain, but with peace. Hope. He smiled, tears falling freely.
Then his body rose, turning into a pillar of soft white light, slowly ascending, disappearing into the stars above.
"No!" Aden ran forward, arms outstretched, desperate to catch him.
"Wait! Don't go!"
But it was too late. Park Hyun was gone.
Aden screamed and charged the red figure, blade drawn in fury. But the figure didn't flinch. Instead, with a single hand, it caught Aden's wrist and stilled him.
They locked eyes.
A voice echoed—not from the figure's mouth, but from the world around him.
"Why were you sent here, Aden Vasco?"
He growled. "You tell me."
"Admit it, you wanted this life, but it you need a more clear answer..."
"It was fate," the voice said calmly. "But if you think your fate is cursed, perhaps it can be broken."
Aden's breath caught. "How?"
"Let's begin with a question," the voice said. "What was your mother's name?"
His eyes widened.
"…Mother's name…?"
He searched his thoughts.
Nothing.
"Let's try again. What was your name?"
A chill ran down his spine. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
"I… I don't… know."
"Then you cannot reclaim what you've lost. How can you change your fate if you don't even know who you are?"
Suddenly, memory after memory crumbled inside his mind like ash in the wind.
His mother's smile. His father's voice. The name of the city he once loved.
Gone.
And in their place?
Aden Vasco.
Memories of blades, of Deception, of blood and training.
He clenched his fists, trembling.
He had known this day would come. Had felt it drawing closer each time he called himself by a name that wasn't his.
But now?, Now it was real.
Park Hyun was no longer a part of him.
He was now Aden Vasco.
And maybe that was enough.
He still had siblings. A family. A world he could bend, break, and remake.
And this time, he wouldn't die a forgotten man in a cold world.
He would rise.
And the world would remember the name Aden Vasco.
Forever.