The grand hall of the Imperial Castle fell into absolute silence.

  A presence unlike any other filled the room—one of unshakable authority, ancient wisdom, and unmatched power.

  Seated upon the golden throne was Emperor Aurelius Valtaris, ruler of the empire. He wore crimson robes embroidered with golden dragons, a sign of his dominion over the continent. His piercing amber eyes swept over the gathering of dukes, nobles, and the participants of the Imperial Tournament.

  No one dared to speak.

  Then, he rose from his throne.

  "Nobles of the Empire," the Emperor’s voice echoed across the chamber, deep and commanding, sending shivers down the spines of even the strongest warriors.

  "The Imperial Tournament approaches. Once again, the finest warriors of the empire shall test their strength. Some will rise. Others will fall. And among them… a new legend will be born."

  The nobles listened in silence, their expressions grim yet filled with anticipation.

  "But remember," the Emperor continued, his eyes like a storm, "This is not merely a test of strength. It is a test of will, discipline, and worth. Only those who possess the spirit of true warriors shall stand victorious."

  His gaze settled upon the young participants, his presence pressing down on them like an unshakable force.

  "Make no mistake. The eyes of the Empire are upon you."

  With those final words, he raised his hand, signaling the start of the banquet.

  The nobles bowed as one. The banquet had begun.

  As the music played, the grand hall filled with laughter, clinking goblets, and hushed conversations. The finest dishes were served, from exotic meats to delicacies from every corner of the empire.

  The dukes and noble families, who had known each other for generations, greeted one another. They exchanged pleasantries, rekindled old alliances, and, for some, measured their competition.

  This was the first time in over a decade that Duke Magnus Ardentis had attended a noble gathering.

  The last time was during his son Adrian’s fourth tournament. But when Adrian failed to meet his expectations, Magnus never returned.

  Yet, today—he was here.

  And everyone knew why.

  "So Duke Magnus has finally returned…" some whispered.

  "It seems the rumors were true. His son, Lucius, will be participating."

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  "Tsk, tsk. Has he found hope in another son only to be disappointed again?"

  But all whispers ceased when Lucius Ardentis entered the hall.

  Tall, elegant, and undeniably striking, he walked beside his father.

  His presence demanded attention. His sharp golden eyes, a mark of the Ardentis bloodline, glowed under the chandelier’s light. His flawless features made even the noblewomen steal glances, unable to look away.

  "Is this truly the 'disgraced third son'?" one noblewoman murmured, staring at him.

  "Hah. If he is weak, then at least the gods blessed him with looks," another noble scoffed.

  But those who had witnessed his duel against Darius knew better.

  Lucius was more than just a handsome noble.

  He was a threat.

  As the banquet continued, several noble houses approached Duke Magnus. Some greeted him respectfully. Others, less so.

  Among them was Duchess Selphine Calidora, the head of House Calidora, accompanied by her daughter, a participant in the tournament.

  "Duke Magnus," she greeted with a smirk, her emerald green eyes filled with amusement. "How unexpected. I thought you had sworn never to return for a noble gathering."

  Magnus, as always, remained silent.

  Duchess Selphine chuckled, her tone laced with mockery.

  "Ah, but I suppose things change when a father sees potential in his son… again."

  Her words were a dagger, a cruel reminder of Adrian’s failure.

  Before Magnus could respond, another voice joined.

  Duke Callidor Solmara, a tall man with silver hair and deep blue eyes, approached with his two sons, both tournament participants. Unlike Selphine, his expression was neutral—perhaps even amused.

  "Selphine, must you always provoke Magnus?" Duke Callidor asked with a smirk. "It’s been years since we all stood in the same room. Do we need to turn it into a battlefield so soon?"

  The three of them—Magnus, Selphine, and Callidor—had once been friends.

  Back in the Imperial Academy, they had studied together.

  But time had turned them into rivals.

  Duchess Selphine sipped her wine, still smirking.

  "Oh, Callidor, I’m merely welcoming an old friend. I was just wondering if Duke Magnus is here to watch history repeat itself."

  Her eyes flickered toward Lucius.

  "After all, they say his son is… weak."

  The moment the word left her lips, a sudden pressure filled the air.

  Lucius, who had remained silent until now, finally stepped forward.

  His golden eyes locked onto Duchess Selphine.

  "Duchess Calidora," Lucius spoke, his voice calm yet authoritative—a voice that demanded respect.

  "You speak as if you already know the outcome of this tournament." He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "But if words alone determined strength, then I would have mistaken you for the strongest warrior here."

  The air grew heavy.

  The nearby nobles stopped talking.

  Even Duchess Selphine’s smirk faded slightly.

  "How bold," she mused, swirling her wine. "I see you have inherited your father’s arrogance."

  Lucius did not waver.

  "If confidence in one’s strength is arrogance, then I will gladly wear that title. But arrogance without strength…" he let his gaze linger on her, "That is simply delusion."

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  Duke Callidor chuckled, breaking the tension.

  "Well, well. It seems Duke Magnus' youngest son has quite the sharp tongue. Perhaps we should be watching him more closely."

  Duchess Selphine’s smirk returned, though her gaze had shifted—no longer mocking, but analyzing.

  "Interesting," she murmured.

  For the first time that night, she looked at Lucius not as a noble’s son—but as a competitor.

  As the banquet went on, Lucius noticed the many eyes watching him. Some in curiosity. Some in amusement. Some in hostility.

  But one thing was certain.

  The Empire had noticed Lucius Ardentis.

  And soon, they would learn the truth.

  The weak third son of House Ardentis was no longer weak.

  And in this tournament…

  He would prove it.