Liam stood before his nephew in the silence of the magical sphere, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was steady, calm, yet heavy — as if it probed not just for words, but for intent. When he spoke, his voice was low and restrained, as though he already sensed the coming conversation would be far from ordinary.
— What did you want to talk about?
Reinhard remained reclining, propped against a pillow, though his eyes glinted with the chill of hard-earned clarity.
— Uncle… The one I fought in the arena wasn't a knight of our house. He was an assassin. And it's very likely he wasn't the only one. Moreover, his name wasn't Gerasim. It was Silivan. And I didn't hear that from rumors or knights — the System itself told me. And the System doesn't make mistakes.
He paused, watching Liam's face intently. Though the older man didn't flinch, his eyes narrowed slightly. Reinhard continued:
— You must've noticed the technique he used — he traded his life force for dark mana. It let him fight, however briefly, at the level of a fifth-rank knight, even if the effect was unstable. That's no ordinary technique. That's unclean power, uncle. And I'm telling you because I know — you're the most reliable man in our family.
Liam didn't answer right away. He sat in heavy silence, breathing deeply, thinking. It wasn't just a pause — it was a void filled with storming thoughts. He had suspected spies or traitors might have infiltrated the house… but an assassin wielding dark mana? So carefully hidden that he, commander of the knights and a family elder, had seen no trace of it? That wasn't a mere threat. It was a rot at the very root of House Deira.
And it meant one thing — no one could have placed that man within the elite guard of the duchy without the blessing of someone powerful. Someone from above. Which meant: the rot reached the very core of their bloodline.
But what unsettled him the most… was the dark mana itself. If demons were behind this — or worse, the Dark Tower — then this wasn't just conspiracy. It was war. A war from within. And the cost was their family's future.
His gaze slowly turned to his nephew — the boy who had survived death, won an unwinnable duel, and now spoke as an equal, not a subordinate. And in his eyes… no fear. Only calculation. And cold resolve.
— Very well, nephew… No.
Liam straightened, and his voice carried the weight of command.
— Heir of House Deira. I will take action. I'll personally lead the investigation and root out everyone who has betrayed our blood.
At that very moment, a green System window lit up before Reinhard's eyes:
[Attention!]
[Liam Deira's Trust → High Threshold Reached: 90/70]
[Title Gained: Commander Deira's Trust]
[Title Effect: Liam Deira's trust cannot fall below 70]
Reinhard smirked. It was perfect. From this moment on, Liam was a tool — a powerful, willful one — but a tool nonetheless, and one that had chosen whom to trust in this castle spun from webs of lies.
— Excellent. In that case… — he sat up slightly, eyes narrowing. — You haven't forgotten your promise, have you? That you'd grant me anything I asked if I won the duel?
Liam's face changed abruptly. His brow furrowed, his expression turning to stone.
— You don't mean… you want access to the family's treasury?
The silence fell like a leaden curtain. Reinhard didn't reply right away. His face remained cold, his gaze razor-sharp.
— Yes.
The treasury. The heart of the house. Sealed to all — even to the duke himself, save for one moment: the initiation of a new head. Within were stored relics, artifacts, secrets, and above all… the one thing Reinhard would give anything for.
The Heart of the Dark Dragon Balmuth. A relic that held an inexhaustible source of mana — one no human, no demon, no god could draw from.
But he could.
He, whose essence was already warped by darkness and chaos — who belonged, unknowingly, to the bloodline of the Fallen.
He had until his eighteenth year. After that, the Heart would no longer be compatible with his body. And he would lose his only path to becoming the strongest.
But even if it was forbidden — he would make it possible.
— I know of another way, — he said calmly, still watching Liam. — I must be recognized as the heir, gain the approval of five out of the eight elders… and accomplish a feat that will be heard across the entire Kain Empire.
Liam froze. Then laughed.
— You… How do you know I'm the seventh elder of the house? That's one of the most closely guarded secrets. I've never appeared publicly at any council.
Reinhard said nothing. He only smiled — coldly, imperiously.
— Then, — Liam lifted his chin, solemnly:
— I, Liam Deira, fifth-rank high knight and seventh elder of House Deira, give you my recommendation.
From beneath his dark cloak, he withdrew a sealed letter bearing the golden crest of the family and handed it to Reinhard. Then followed a gray ring — plain in appearance, almost forgettable.
— This is my gift. When you understand its value, you'll see everything you know in a different light.
He turned without waiting for a reply and, like a warrior who had fulfilled an oath, left the room.
And Reinhard remained. He looked at the letter. At the ring. Then whispered quietly:
— I never thought I'd receive something so valuable here… But now I have everything I need to break this world.