Takashiro Ryuji walked toward the crowd of heirs,
his steps measured, deliberate. The death of his father, the head of the Takashiro family, left a palpable void.
The heirs did not grieve; instead, they exchanged furtive glances, their faces pale and drawn, as if the very air around them had thickened with fear. Whispers buzzed through the crowd like a swarm of nervous insects, and some took an involuntary step back, distancing themselves from the young man who had committed the unthinkable. The shock of the act had seared an image into their minds: this was not just an heir, but a parricide.
"Ryuji..!" Marquis called out, his voice laced with disbelief, though it barely rose above a whisper. His emotions churned within him—was it horror, anger, or something else he was meant to feel?
Marquis stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. The disbelief, the sheer impossibility of what he had just witnessed, weighed heavily on him.
He couldn't reconcile the calm, composed figure of Ryuji with the brutal act he had committed. The room seemed to close in around him, the faces of the other heirs blurring into a haze of shocked expressions and whispered disbelief.
"You weren't there at the explosion! You didn't see—" Marquis began, his voice trembling with the weight of unsaid horrors. His mind raced, replaying the moment over and over, trying to make sense of it. How could someone kill their own father so calmly, so coldly?
"I don't need to be there," Ryuji interrupted, his tone flat, cold, as if the weight of his actions bore no consequence to him.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into Marquis's, daring him to challenge his decision.
Marquis felt a surge of anger, a hot, burning fury that threatened to consume him. How could Ryuji be so dismissive? How could he act as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just shattered the very foundation of their world?
"Killing isn't good, no matter who it is!" Marquis shot back, his voice rising with desperate fervor.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. He couldn't let this go, couldn't let Ryuji's actions slide without consequence.
"He was my father, not yours," Ryuji replied, his words cutting through the air with a chilling detachment.
There was no emotion in his voice, no hint of regret or remorse. To him, it was simply a fact—a necessary action, nothing more.
Marquis lunged forward, seizing Ryuji by the collar, the fine fabric bunching awkwardly in his fists.
His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the whirlwind of emotions threatening to tear him apart.
The smooth, cold silk of Ryuji's robe felt alien beneath his fingers, a stark contrast to the heat of his own fury.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating in his ears, drowning out the shocked gasps of the surrounding heirs.
The tension between them was electric, a live wire ready to snap, as Marquis searched Ryuji's dark, unreadable eyes for any hint of regret.
"How…!" he started, his voice breaking, but the words died in his throat. What could he say? What could possibly justify or explain what had happened?
Ryuji stared back at him, unblinking, his expression unreadable. "this guy!.." There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation.
He was resolute, unyielding. And in that moment, Marquis realized that no amount of reasoning or pleading would change Ryuji's mind.
With a sudden, violent shove, Ryuji pushed Marquis away, the force of it causing him to stumble backward. Marquis caught himself, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he struggled to regain his composure.
He watched, helpless, as Ryuji turned and walked back to the place he had occupied before committing the unthinkable act, his movements calm and deliberate.
Wata approached cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sir, was that really necessary?"
"It is," Ryuji responded, his voice unyielding. There was no doubt, no hesitation. To him, it was the only course of action
The question of his father's ignorance about the timeframe of the quest gnawed at Ryuji's mind.
How could the head of one of the most powerful families in the Stem not be aware of such a critical detail?
"He was unfit," Takashiro muttered to himself, echoing the words he had spoken earlier.
"He really did it… He killed his own father," Beaugois murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Nasty boy, isn't he?"
"Who do you think will take over as the new head?" someone from a distant table asked, the morbid curiosity breaking the otherwise stunned silence.
the figure on the chair exudes an aura of regality. His outfit is a study in rich, deep hues, with a long, flowing robe of dark indigo that cascades down to the floor, pooling around the legs.
The robe is adorned with subtle patterns, likely embroidered in silver or gold by the neck/collar , that shine a flickering light in the darkly dimmed hall.
A wide, deep red sash is tied around his waist, cinching the robe and adding a touch of vibrancy to the otherwise dark ensemble.
This sash is reminiscent of a warrior's belt, though it serves more as an ornamental piece, signifying status rather than function.
Draped over his shoulders is a cloak of the same dark fabric, its heavy folds adding to his imposing presence.
On his head, the figure wears a crown that appears to be made of a dark, possibly iron-like metal, though its dull sheen suggests it might be something more precious, perhaps an ancient alloy.
The crown is simple yet elegant, with sharp, angular points that give it a menacing edge, as if it were forged in a time of war and bloodshed.
His hair, long and silver, spills over his shoulders, contrasting sharply with the dark fabric of his clothing.
The pallor of his skin and the cold, distant look in his eyes, his dark blue eyes… suggest a figure who is burdened by the weight of centuries of rulership.
"Are you being serious right now, Bel-ibni?" alphonse adds in pure disbelief,
"I am simply stating what most of us want to hear, but you are right, it is early." Bel-ibni says then ceasing to speak.
"Why did you do that?" Leonardo's voice trembled with disbelief as he stood frozen, watching Takashiro stride past him, their shoulders brushing. The reality of what had just transpired was too much for him to process.
"Well, isn't he frightening?" the knight remarked, trying to dredge up a memory.
"Didn't something similar happen in Silver-Shield history?" He furrowed his brow but then dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "hm, can't remember."
Adad, however, seemed to find the whole situation amusing. "Ahahaha, Ryuji! You never fail to stir things up!" His laughter echoed in the hall, his deep red robe beginning to rise off the floor, revealing his muscular arms.
His fists clenched, and his dreads floated as if charged with an unseen energy.
"You wish to fight?" Ryuji's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade, low and cold, with anger simmering just beneath the surface.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the once-hushed murmurs now swallowed by a thick, oppressive stillness.
Adad's lips curved into a slow, predatory grin as his muscles tensed, ready for the inevitable clash.
His fists clenched, the knuckles turning white as a faint crackle of energy began to gather around him, dancing along his skin like static before a storm.
"I sure do!" Adad's reply was laced with eager anticipation, his guide standing by helplessly, unable to intervene.
"Ah, not this again," Alain muttered, considering leaving altogether, a stark contrast to Itami, whose body language screamed for battle.
His anger—or perhaps rage was a better term—was palpable. He didn't just want to fight; he wanted to kill Ryuji. "Not you too… I'll just go over there," Alain said, gesturing toward the other side of the hall, away from the escalating tensions between heirs and sages.
"Enough. Do this after the quest begins," a calm voice commanded, bringing everything to a halt.
The directive stopped Adad in his tracks, despite his desire to fight. Even Ryuji sighed, his irritation evident.
"Who made the rule of non-involvement again?" Alphonse asked, his voice tinged with frustration as he struggled to remain seated.
"And what happens if we break it? Oh, right… compensation," Beaugois muttered, recalling the consequences.
"Compensation…" Henri echoed, the word hanging heavily in the air.
The concept of compensation was one of the many decrees set forth by the sage—rules that bound locations and in the current hall the heads of the families are bound by a rule, with penalties severe enough to deter even the most reckless. The hall was laden with such restrictions, and Henri knew them well.
Henri rose from his seat, his movements slow, deliberate. The room seemed to tilt under the weight of what was about to happen.
The gravity, or perhaps the atmosphere itself, seemed to grow heavier as Henri approached Takashiro.
Each step echoed ominously in the hall, the sound bouncing off the walls and reverberating in the ears of those present.
Ryuji's eyes narrowed as he sensed the change in the room. He could feel the weight of Henri's presence, the oppressive aura that seemed to emanate from him. But he didn't flinch; he held his ground, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his katana.
"He's done it now," Alphonse muttered, his voice barely audible over the tense silence that had settled over the hall.
The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made every muscle tense, every breath shallow.
"Go teach the boy a lesson, will you? I can't afford the compensation, or I surely would!" Sir Eadric said, his voice a sharp contrast to the tension, as if he were goading Henri into action.
"Shut up, will you?" Beaugois snapped, his patience with Eadric's endless rambling wearing thin. The tension in the room was palpable, the air almost crackling with it.
"Oh, how dare—!" Eadric started but ultimately fell silent, sensing the gravity of the situation. His words hung in the air, unfinished, as all eyes turned toward Henri.
"Dad?" Anna said, her voice laced with surprise as she watched her father move toward the boy who had just killed his own father.
Her attachment skill, though seeming to be derived from his, was far less potent. The room seemed to still as Henri prepared to act, the silence oppressive, almost suffocating.
"Attachment Skill: Fool/Trick," she murmured under her breath, almost as if she were reminding herself of the power her father wielded.
Henri's skill, though, was far more direct. "Attachment Skill: Graviton Shift," he intoned, the air around him rippling as he manipulated the very fabric of Rasvian energy, moving it with a precision that defied belief. The ground beneath Ryuji's feet seemed to shift, the air growing heavier, pressing down on him like an invisible weight.
"I need to take care of something real quick, honey," Henri said flatly, smiling a bit as reassurance, but there was nothing casual about what followed.
The room seemed to shift, rasvian energy bending as if gravity itself had begun to warp under Henri's control.
The air grew dense, pressing down on Ryuji with an almost tangible force. The floor wavered beneath his feet, the once solid ground now feeling as if it were slipping away, like sand through his fingers.
Ryuji's knees buckled slightly, a rare sign of weakness, as the overwhelming weight bore down on him.
He tried to adjust, to regain his balance, but the world around him had already twisted beyond recognition.
"What" Ryuji grunted, struggling to maintain his stance as the ground seemed to slip away from beneath him.
His body felt heavy, his movements sluggish, as if he were wading through thick mud.
"You need guidance, but before that, you need a beating," Henri declared, grabbing Ryuji with a speed and strength that defied his age.
In one fluid motion, he slammed Ryuji into the floor. The impact was so forceful that the ground, made from a material said to be near indestructible, dented slightly.
The sound of the impact reverberated through the hall, a dull, echoing thud that made the other heirs flinch.
"The last question was too simple. Why did you kill your father?" Henri's voice was steady, unnervingly calm, as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather.
But his eyes told a different story—a cold, piercing gaze that bore into Ryuji, seeking out the truth with relentless precision.
Ryuji's chest heaved as he struggled to breathe, each inhale sharp and painful against the crushing force still pinning him to the ground.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, mingling with the blood trickling from his split lip, the metallic taste of it sharp on his tongue.
His thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm, but one thing remained clear: Henri would not be satisfied with half-truths or evasions.
"I—told you…" Ryuji tried to reply, but the words were cut off by a brutal punch to his gut, the force of it knocking the wind out of him.
The pain was sharp, searing, radiating through his body like a wildfire. He gasped for breath, his vision blurring as the world spun around him.
"Oh, he's gone…" Alain muttered from the sidelines, his voice resigned.
He could see the outcome already, the inevitable result of Henri's overwhelming power.
Adad, who had been so eager for a fight, took a step back, sweat beading on his forehead as he witnessed Henri's demonstration of strength.
The sight of Ryuji being so easily overpowered sent a chill down his spine, his bravado fading as reality set in.
"Are the heads really that powerful?" Leonardo gasped, struggling to comprehend the sheer force on display.
The room seemed to shrink around him, the walls closing in as the weight of the situation pressed down on him.
"Not exactly… Dad's just different," Anna replied with a small smile, pride tinged with an understanding of the power her father wielded.
She knew, better than anyone, what he was capable of.
"Lightning," Elara muttered, her gaze shifting to Adad. She could see the fear in his eyes, the way his hands trembled as he realized he was outmatched.
"How foolish can you be? Stop using your attachment skill!" Marquis shouted, frustration boiling over. "How idiotic is everyone here?" he muttered to himself.
"He might be as strong as father," Adad whispered, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked toward the table where the heads sat.
His earlier confidence was replaced with a quiet respect for the power on display.
The first face he saw was his father's, staring back at him with a look of intensity. There was no anger, no disappointment, just a calm, measured gaze that seemed to cut through the chaos around them.
"Oh…" Adad muttered, his confidence wavering. The sight of his father, the one person whose opinion truly mattered, made him pause.
"Ashur" Sir Eadric began, mentioning Adad's father's name, but the words trailed off, lost in the tension that hung in the air. The atmosphere was thick, oppressive, as if the very air had turned to lead.
"I give up—" Adad started, but his words were cut short as Henri moved with blinding speed.
His fist connected with Adad's gut, the force of the blow distorting the very fabric of Rasvian energy around them. The air crackled with power, the energy struggling to maintain its form as Henri's graviton shift bent it to his will.
Adad's body spun in the air, the impact so powerful that it left him disoriented, his senses overwhelmed by the force of the blow.
The lightning that had crackled around him moments before flickered and dimmed, as if the very energy had been knocked out of him.
"You kids need a beating every now and then," Henri remarked, his voice calm as he watched Adad's body float in the air, suspended by the force of his graviton shift. His robes billowed around him, the fabric shimmering with the power that radiated from his body.
"If I'd known I was going to rumble a bit, I would have worn armor," Henri said with a slow, deliberate tone, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement.
Adad's father. Ashur, sitting opposite Sir Eadric, merely huffed in agreement, a slight nod of acknowledgment. There was no need for words; the display of power spoke for itself
Ashur wore a long robe of deep red similar to his son, the fabric rich and flowing. Intricate patterns in black and gold adorned the garment, creating complex geometric designs and symbolic motifs. White and black accents provided striking contrast, particularly in the form of stylized animals and border decorations along the hem and sleeves.
A wide belt, likely of embossed leather with metal accents, cinched the robe at the waist. On his head, Ashur wore a tall, cylindrical cap typical of Assyrian nobility, decorated with patterns that complemented his robe.
"Compensation for the head of the de Meaux family, Henri de Meaux, shall commence shortly," the voice announced.
"I shall continue the rules in due time," the voice added, leaving the hall in a tense, uneasy silence.
Leonardo stays silent through out the entire affair, what is he Doing in a place like this, he should run back to where the tour guide milah is, the place where he signed the contract seemed good enough, no the environment he experienced when he first entered the tower was extremely better.
This wasn't the grand adventure he envisioned at the start of the journey, heck we haven't even started, he thinks to himself.
"Is you dad going to be okay?" He turns to elara asking her, Anna on the other hand busy watching her father in awe, its clear she inspires to be like him,
"Definitely!" Elara responds cheerily, Leonardo is shocked at this, wasn't this the girl who was quivering at the death of that head?
He turns back, most people are still scared, he isn't alone.
Why is she all of a sudden excited?
"Dad is not only strong but smart too" she adds to her speech, her dialogue seems to disappear , as Leonardo turns to Henri.
Is she happy at the mere sight of her father?
Parental figure.
"Henris family, de Meaux. excluding the heirs shall receive prohibition of any items that are from another realm or the wonders."
"Ouch!" Beaugois says, laughing a bit.