28# A Welcome Head

— "So… she's your new mother?" Gareth asked, raising his eyebrows as they walked down the vast polished stone corridor leading to the Grand Hall.

Clint nodded with a tired half-smile.

— "Elara. She seems like a good woman. Doesn't look uncomfortable with the farce. And honestly, she treats the servants well, from what I've heard. Better than some real mothers out there."

Gareth let out a short laugh, adjusting the freshly polished black armor he now wore with pride. The Ravenhart emblem gleamed in silver across his chest — a raven with open wings wrapped around a sword embedded in the ground.

— "To think that just a few days ago I was dying in that forest… and now I wear the crest of one of the most feared families in Kamira." He paused for a moment, looking at Clint. — "All because of you."

Clint didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the massive double doors slowly opening ahead, revealing the Grand Hall.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled with sunlight filtering through the tall windows. Tables were filled with fine wines, silver trays, and exotic fruits. Nobles gathered in small groups, discussing deals, exchanging fake smiles, and watching every detail around them with analytical eyes.

At the center, above all others, stood a raised platform. And there he was: Leonard Ravenhart, the Duke. Imposing, dressed in a dark robe with silver details, conversing with two stiff-looking elderly nobles.

As Clint, Gareth, and Elara crossed the hall, the murmuring ceased as if the air had been cut. Leonard raised a hand. His voice rang out strong and clear, echoing off the marble walls:

— "Silence!"

Everyone fell quiet.

The Duke stepped up a level, standing even taller, and with his hand extended, pointed to Clint.

— "Today I present to the world my son. Clint Ravenhart. A bastard of my blood. Hidden for years, but now recognized by me, his father." He turned to Elara. — "And this is Elara, my new wife, and Clint's mother."

The impact was immediate.

Whispers erupted from every corner — some full of shock, others of outrage.

— "A bastard?" a baron murmured.

— "This is an insult to the nobility..." said another.

But the real stir came when a young man with light brown hair and luxurious clothing stepped forward. Edric Gregory, son of Marquis Damião Gregory, marched with his chin high, clearly furious. Behind him, other nobles of House Gregory followed with arrogant gazes.

— "With all due respect, Lord Ravenhart," Edric said with a sarcastic smile, "is this some kind of joke?"

Leonard simply stared at him in silence.

— "A bastard no one has ever heard of is suddenly announced as your heir? This mocks the very structure of Kamira's nobility!" He pulled off the leather glove from his right hand and threw it to the floor at Clint's feet. — "I, Edric Gregory, challenge you to a duel."

Tension thickened in the air. Gareth instinctively reached for his sword but stopped when he saw that Clint didn't even flinch.

The young man stepped forward, his eyes now cold, his face expressionless. He bent down, calmly picked up the glove, and threw it back to Edric.

— "A duel to the death, right?" Clint said, his voice low but carrying an odd confidence.

— "Exactly." Edric smirked, as if he'd already won.

Then… everything froze.

The entire hall was swallowed by an overwhelming pressure. It was as if the air had turned to concrete. Some nobles fell to their knees, others instinctively stepped back.

Edric staggered.

Clint's eyes burned with a murderous intensity. His aura expanded like a wave, pressing down on everyone present. It was Bloodlust. Raw. Brutal. Unrestrained.

— "W-what kind of power is this...?" one of the generals murmured.

Edric collapsed to his knees. His face drained of color.

— "M-mercy... forgive me... I... I withdraw the challenge... I take it back...!"

Clint slowly approached.

He remembered the Duke executing a general just for questioning him. He remembered the coldness with which he built that entire lie to use Clint as a pawn.

And then he thought, "Wouldn't it be fun to act a little like him?"

Clint drew his sword.

Without hesitation, with a single clean strike, he severed Edric's head from his body.

The silence that followed was sepulchral. Blood flowed across the marble floor, dripping like a broken clock.

Clint raised the severed head in one hand and turned to the gathering.

— "Forgive me for interrupting your evening." His voice was cold, emotionless.

He turned to the Duke. Leonard Ravenhart watched him with a faint smile at the corner of his lips. Proud.

Clint then looked at Gareth.

— "Send someone to clean this up, will you?"

Gareth, still in shock, just nodded. Clint dropped the head to the floor and, as if nothing had happened, began greeting some of the nobles — slipping seamlessly back into the role of a newly recognized member of the elite.

The ball would go on.