18# A New Mother

The morning breeze was gentle, but inside the Ravenhart estate, the air felt heavier than ever. Clint still lay unconscious, his body wrapped in fine sheets, though his face still bore traces of pain and trauma. Beside him, a house healer kept a close eye on his condition.

In the corridor outside, firm footsteps echoed. Duke Leonard Ravenhart stood with arms crossed, watching through the slightly open door. Beside him, Eduard—his right-hand man—awaited instructions.

— "Eduard," the Duke began in a restrained tone, "I want you to investigate immediately. Has there ever been a recorded case of someone manifesting a Mantra color before reaching the sixth stage?"

The man didn't hesitate.

— "With all due respect, my lord, there's no such case in any royal library. But I'll go beyond that. I'll comb through the archives of Felgrand and Leona if needed."

Leonard nodded slightly.

— "Do it. And keep this absolutely secret. No one must know… not yet."

At that moment, Darius appeared behind them, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The relaxed posture did little to mask the overwhelming strength that seemed to pulse from his presence.

— "Still alive?" Darius asked, blunt as ever.

— "Yes. Stable. The healer says he could wake up at any moment."

Darius stepped closer to the door, silently watching Clint for a few seconds.

— "Once he's up... we continue. One more month. If he survived that, then he's ready for hell."

Leonard turned to face him.

— "Don't kill him."

— "Not planning to. But he needs to bleed until he learns that strength isn't built on rage alone."

For a moment, silence settled in the hallway. Leonard sighed deeply. What had to be done next was both inevitable and delicate.

— "About the boy... we need to handle his background."

Darius raised an eyebrow, not following at first.

— "What do you mean?"

— "If the world finds out I adopted a street rat, the Ravenhart name will rot. But if he's introduced as my bastard... someone I fathered before marriage, in my youth... the stain will be smaller. Scandalous, yes—but manageable."

Darius chuckled softly.

— "So you'll pay some woman to pretend she gave birth to him?"

— "Exactly." Leonard's tone remained unchanged. "I need a discreet servant. The kind who dreams of living in luxury, even if it's just for show. In exchange, she'll get her own quarters, silk dresses, access to the noble wing. All she has to do is smile and pretend she's Clint's mother."

— "As if that's hard." Darius scoffed. "Half the servants here would kill for that."

— "Precisely. It will be arranged before the next House gathering. When he returns... the world will meet 'Clint Ravenhart'. The forsaken bastard."

Darius looked at the Duke for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the unconscious boy. A strange light flickered in his eyes. Not pity. Not even empathy. Respect.

— "From here on, Leonard... either he becomes a legend... or a monster."

— "And which do you prefer he becomes?"

Darius smiled faintly—for the first time, the expression was genuine.

— "Me? I prefer both."