Chaos

Arthur had imagined this scene hundreds of times and prepared himself to carry it out dozens more. Yet, even though everything had gone exactly as he intended, he still couldn't come to terms with what he had done. The daggers slipped from his hands, and he stepped back.

Duncan's body collapsed before him, blood gushing out, and in a dazed voice, Arthur muttered as he stared at the blood on his hands, "I killed someone."

"I killed someone," he repeated, as if he hadn't heard his own words. He remained frozen for nearly ten minutes before finally exhaling deeply.

He headed toward a water basin and washed his hands thoroughly, removing all traces of blood. Then he examined his clothes carefully before leaving the room without casting even a glance at Duncan's corpse, as if it didn't exist.

He walked through the corridors of the castle, which now felt unusually cold and grim. After several minutes of wandering, he arrived at the gate to the main hall. The guards opened the door for him, and he entered the crowded space calmly. All the important figures in the castle were gathered there, along with every single recruit he had enlisted. Though the hall was packed, everyone made way down the middle so he could walk through unimpeded.

Arthur paid them no mind, his thoughts were occupied with calming himself and keeping his body from trembling. Every step he took felt unbearably heavy.

Everyone in the room noticed the strangeness in his expression and gait, and whispers quickly spread. The Captain of the Guard leaned toward Edgar and said, "What's with this lunatic? Why did he gather us again? Is he about to pass new laws or issue more crazy orders?"

"Tsk. We'll find out soon enough. No need to speculate," Edgar sighed, trying to keep his composure. "But I'm certain it won't be good."

Suddenly, he noticed Arthur walking straight toward him. His brow furrowed. Within seconds, Arthur was standing right in front of him. At that moment, Edgar caught the faint scent of blood emanating from him. The senses of a Boundless were incredibly sharp, so he noticed it immediately, and so did the Captain of the Guard. A sense of unease stirred within them both.

Then it hit Edgar: his son had gone to Arthur's room… and had not returned.

He didn't dwell on it for long. With calm composure, he asked, "How may I serve you, my lord?"

Arthur looked him in the eye and said, "For doubting my identity and inciting your followers against me, I sentence you to death." Without giving him a second to react, Arthur pulled a dagger from his Dimensional Storage and thrust it at Edgar's chest.

But unlike his son, the Baronet reacted with trained precision, leaping back like a cat and narrowly avoiding the blade, which only left a superficial wound on his chest.

The hall erupted in screams of panic. The sheer shock of the event froze everyone. Soldiers drew their swords, as did the recruits. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, the room had split into two sides: on one stood about thirty individuals led by the Vice Captain of the Guard, a Boundless of Rank D; on the other, nearly eighty stood, most of them recruits, led by Otieno.

Faelor, Brent, Alvin, and Brock remained at the back, unable to choose a side.

Time seemed to freeze within the hall. Hearts pounded in confusion. Attacking Arthur and his followers would be treason—certain death. But if they didn't defend Edgar and Arthur turned out to be an imposter, they'd be killed as traitors anyway.

Arthur paid no mind to the soldiers behind him. If he could sever the serpent's head—Edgar—then the rest would fall in line. But before he could make his next move, the Captain of the Guard appeared before him and shouted, "What are you doing?!" Though his voice was tense, he was gripping his sharp sword, ready to strike at any moment.

"Lower your sword, or I'll deem you a traitor too. You bastards dare try to kill me—accusing me of being an imposter? I'll kill you all. Every last one of you, and your families too!" Arthur's expression twisted into one of pure madness. He no longer seemed sane.

"Kill that bastard! He's just a damn fraud!" Edgar shouted, pointing his sword at Arthur. All doubt had left him now—he was sure Arthur had killed his son. Whether he was an imposter or not no longer mattered. The moment swords were drawn, blood would be spilled.

"Anyone who follows the Baronet's orders will be executed," Arthur declared, glaring at the soldiers behind him. They stiffened, frozen in place. But at that moment, Brent stepped forward and joined the recruits' side. Without much delay, Brock and Alvin followed, tipping the balance in Arthur's favor—especially since most of the veteran soldiers had been sent on a mission to eliminate bandits.

Standing between the two sides, Faelor quietly observed everything. His Logical Analysis skill allowed the fragmented image to finally take shape in his mind. He understood now why Arthur had sent the soldiers on a bandit-hunting mission, why he'd chosen ambitious youths to become his followers, and why he summoned Duncan. Everything had been orchestrated for this moment.

Because of this, Faelor's suspicions grew, and he thought, 'This person before me isn't Arvan. He's mad like him… decisive like him… but he's a genius and a schemer, unlike the real Arvan. Who is he? What does he want?' His mind overflowed with questions. He still couldn't choose a side. He lacked offensive magic and wouldn't be of much use in a hall-wide battle. In the end, he simply cast a glance at Arthur and Octavia—he had recently discovered she'd become a mage. Mages could sense mana from others of similar level.

He stepped back and concealed his presence, waiting to see how events would unfold.

"You forced me into this!" the Captain of the Guard roared angrily and charged at Arthur with his exceptionally sharp sword. Eyes widened in shock. But contrary to expectations, dozens of thorn-covered roots erupted and intercepted the blade. Though some thorns were sliced, the sheer number of roots overwhelmed it, ensnaring the Captain's arm.

Before he could react, hundreds of thorny roots wrapped around him, trapping him in place. His body was frozen, pierced by thousands of thorns—but due to his Solid Body skill, the damage wasn't severe.

At the back of the hall, Faelor's eyes widened as he sensed the immense magical energy Arthur had unleashed. He realized it came from a high-grade magical tool, and that alone was shocking. Such artifacts were rare and prohibitively expensive. No commoner could ever obtain one. With a murmured tone, he said, "Maybe he is Arvan… that's the only explanation. Why did we assume the rumors were false and doubt his identity in the first place?" Suddenly, Faelor realized how carelessly they had overlooked that possibility, and regret welled up inside him over Edgar's rashness.

"Damn you!"

Edgar charged at Arthur with incredible speed. Arthur couldn't keep up, but he had anticipated this. He summoned a dome-shaped barrier of thorns that shielded him from all directions.

"Die! Die, you filthy fraud!" Edgar roared, slashing his sword wildly. His strikes were powerful—each one cleaving through multiple thorn stalks—but Arthur simply summoned more. Edgar's efforts became meaningless.

Inside the barrier, Arthur exhaled and thought, 'All I have to do now is wait… until the poison takes effect.'

In his rage, Edgar hadn't noticed that the small wound on his chest was bleeding profusely, and the blood was beginning to turn an eerie blue.