"Let's go!"
With a fierce resolve, Alan stormed off with Isabella, heading straight for the Virtue Pavilion.
Along the way, many mages looked on with complex expressions.
Alan, the former heir of House Roan, had contributed greatly to its glory.
Yet now, not only had he lost his title, but his mana core had also been shattered in battle, reducing him to a useless state, unable to wield magic.
Some wondered if he'd even be able to maintain his current level of strength over time.
The once-brilliant prodigy of House Roan had fallen from grace, leaving many lamenting his fate.
"Brother, let it go. The deputy butler and William are both there. If you go, you'll suffer for it." Isabella, worried by Alan's angry demeanor, tugged at his hand, urging him to turn back.
Alan patted Isabella's hand. "Even if both of them come at me together, they're no match for me. Since when has your brother ever suffered a loss?"
With that, Alan led Isabella to the Virtue Pavilion once more.
As they approached, the arrogant deputy butler, Roosevelt, blocked their way with a group of guards.
"This is the hall for House Roan's successor. Unauthorized people are not permitted to approach!" he declared. "And by special order from William, that pig Alan and his sickly sister are especially forbidden to come near!"
Before Roosevelt finished his mocking words, Alan's slap landed across his face.
Smack!
The crisp sound of the slap echoed as Roosevelt's plump body was sent flying, five bright red finger marks blazing across his cheek, his face twitching from the pain.
The guards around them looked at Alan in stunned silence.
They knew Alan's fiery temper and expected he wouldn't take it lightly after his sister had been struck, but they hadn't anticipated he'd act so quickly and decisively.
"You filthy animal, you dared to hit my sister?"
Roosevelt, lying on the ground, glared at Alan with fiery eyes, his cheek throbbing as if pierced by iron hooks. He spat, "You dare lay hands on me, you useless cripple?! I am House Roan's deputy butler! This is treason!"
Alan moved in swiftly, pressing his foot down hard on Roosevelt's chest, forcing blood to spurt from his mouth. Gasping for breath under Alan's heel, Roosevelt shouted, his face twisted in rage: "Guards! Seize him! Seize him! I'll tear his mouth apart!"
The guards hesitated, but Roosevelt's commands, backed by William and the seneschal, compelled them forward.
Yet when they got close to Alan, his cold, murderous gaze sent a chill down their spines, freezing them in place.
As House Roan's guards, many of them had fought alongside Alan in the past, and they knew that once he entered combat mode, he was as ferocious as a wild beast.
During skirmishes over mining rights, he had been the sharpest blade, and for many, he was a family hero.
Despite rumors of his broken mana core, none dared to defy him.
Hesitating, the guards watched as Alan sent Roosevelt flying like a sack of meat, scattering the onlookers in his path.
"My sister and I are here to retrieve our belongings.
Step aside, and we remain as brothers-in-arms. But cross me, and I won't hold back."
Alan cast a sweeping gaze over the gathered guards before leading Isabella into the Virtue Pavilion.
"Alan! Assaulting a butler and trespassing in the Virtue Pavilion! By law, what punishment do you think you deserve?"
Just then, Forse, his large belly protruding, stepped in with a stern look, blocking Alan's way.
"Punishment?" Alan's eyes narrowed. "Forse, as a family elder, you've lost all sense of fairness, and yet you dare lecture me? My sister came here to retrieve her own belongings, but you treated her like this. Do you still have any humanity?"
Without further warning, Alan lunged forward, delivering a fierce kick to Forse's stomach.
The man's shocked expression barely registered before he was sent sprawling.
"Don't think I don't know who sent the shadow assassin! If you have the guts to keep targeting me, do it yourself. Going after my sister—what kind of coward does that?"
With each word, Alan struck Forse, using him as a punching bag to release his pent-up rage.
Forse attempted to cast a spell, but Alan, acutely attuned to elemental fluctuations, detected his actions and dealt him a brutal blow, forcibly interrupting the spellcasting.
Forse spat blood, his body bruised and battered as he cried out in agony.
"So fierce…" Several guards swallowed hard at the sight. Forse, a tier-iron level 7 mage, was one of the stronger individuals within the family, yet here he was, beaten without even a chance to fight back. It was like a nightmare.
Hadn't Alan's mana core been shattered, turning him into a cripple? Why did he seem even stronger and fiercer?
Those guards who hadn't moved against Alan now counted their blessings, realizing that Forse's battered state would likely have been their own fate if they'd intervened.
"Alan, you're out of line! Do you even recognize the family or its elders anymore?"
As Forse nearly lost consciousness, the seneschal arrived with a group of elders and loyal guards, surrounding Alan.
Alan tossed Forse's bloodied body aside and faced the seneschal without a trace of fear. "Do I not respect the elders? What about the countless battles I fought for the family—were they for nothing? And how have you treated me? Have you ever regarded me as part of this family?"
"Watch your tone!" William emerged from the Virtue Pavilion. "Alan, show some respect when you speak to the elders. Even if you think the family has wronged you, does that absolve you of all blame?"
The other elders exchanged glances, nodding in agreement as murmurs filled the air.
Seeing this, William's smile grew even wider.
"If everyone in House Roan were to behave as you do, disregarding their elders and rules, what would become of us?"
The seneschal raised his hand. "Seize him! Sentence him to death by fire!"
At once, the guards under his command surged forward.
Alan sneered, "Seneschal, you're truly tyrannical. Since you're so eager, why don't we settle this with a duel to the death, here and now? Do you dare to accept?"
His words echoed, causing a stir among the gathered crowd.
The seneschal was a tier-iron level 8 mage, and although Alan had clashed with him once before, he'd only narrowly come out worse.
But in a true duel to the death, the gap between two levels was an insurmountable chasm.
And everyone knew that Alan's mana core was shattered; he was a cripple.
What was he relying on to propose this duel? Had he gone mad?
The seneschal, stunned at first, grew more cautious as he realized that Alan's aura had reached tier-iron level 7, despite his rage.
Not only had Alan not become a cripple, but he had grown stronger.
Yet, the seneschal's shadow assassin had been one of his loyal death soldiers; he wouldn't have held back. What was going on?
Caution marked the seneschal's face.
A duel with Alan would gain him nothing, regardless of the outcome.
If he won, he'd be condemned for bullying the younger generation and tarnish his reputation inside and outside the family. If he lost, Alan would use him as a stepping stone to further glory.
As the seneschal hesitated, William scoffed and stepped in front of him.
"Alan, there is a duel between us already. You're my opponent now, and you have no right to challenge anyone else. All our grievances will be settled in over twenty days on the dueling stage. Let's see if you can still stand proud before me then."
Alan glanced at him, then continued forward with Isabella, entering the Virtue Pavilion.
Watching Alan's retreating figure with Isabella, the seneschal frowned and turned to William with a puzzled expression.
"Why did you let him go? Even if his combat strength is formidable, we should kill him here today."
The seneschal, disturbed by Alan's breakthrough, felt that ending his life now, though dishonorable, would snuff out a dangerous flame before it could grow.