"...wanna make a bet?"

Frowns spread across the faces of the city lords.

"A bet?" Ociden scoffed. "Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Only a drunk would come up with something this stupid."

"Hmm." Garrick scratched his cheek lazily. "Funny. Could’ve sworn you all sounded pretty damn confident your descendants would win. So what’s the risk?"

Ociden frowned faintly.

"Or maybe..." Garrick’s grin slowly widened as he tilted his head. "You lot never actually thought your descendants stood a chance. Just barking loud to save face, huh?"

The eyes of the city lords narrowed instantly.

"...watch your mouth, Garrick."

It was Ociden who spoke, yet a subtle pressure leaked from every city lord present. However, Garrick merely grinned savagely, meeting each of their gazes without the slightest hint of backing down.

"Or what?"

The pressure surged instantly, causing the entire chamber to tremble violently.

Their gazes remained locked for several tense seconds before City Lord Borric suddenly tossed a large sack into the middle of the chamber. Numerous gold coins clinked loudly as it struck the ground.

"Twenty thousand gold coins." Borric spoke with a serious expression. "My son will crush the Proving."

"Tw-twenty thousand?!" Garrick nearly choked on air, staring at the sack with widened eyes.

For men like the city lords, provoking their pride was the easiest way to bait them into a bet. But Garrick had never expected the stakes to become this absurd! Besides, what kind of lunatic casually walked around carrying an entire fortune?!

"The Dovaire house will also join." Marisse waved her fan gracefully as another sack landed beside the first. "My beautiful boy will naturally take first place."

"Me too." Selmira tossed her own sack down carelessly. "My little flower’s gonna make your descendants suck dick."

"The Ocren house will participate as well." Ociden’s cold voice sounded as he threw his own sack into the pile.

The city lords turned toward Darius, who merely clicked his tongue irritably.

"...I won’t be participating."

"Yes, I think that’s wise." Ociden nodded knowingly,

"Smartest thing you’ve said all day."

Darius immediately gnashed his teeth in fury.

"So?" Borric leaned back with a grin. "What about you, Garrick? Or did your alcohol budget wipe out your entire fortune?"

But Garrick didn’t answer. His slowly widening eyes remained locked onto the mountain of gold before him.

"One... two... three... four..."

His lips trembled faintly.

"...eighty thousand..."

Garrick rubbed his eyes several times, as though trying to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. It felt like a dream. No... an incredible dream. Because there was simply no way the universe could favor him this much.

Eighty thousand gold coins...

Oh, the glorious things he could do with this money!

The city lords stared at Garrick with deepening frowns. A thin strand of drool slowly slipped from the corner of his mouth, while his eyes had completely lost focus.

"Garrick." Ociden frowned. "Why have you suddenly gone silent?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" Borric clicked his tongue. "The drunk’s broke. Probably gambled away everything he owns. Tch. What a waste of time."

Ociden shook his head slightly.

"If you cannot afford to participate, then—"

"NO!"

Garrick snapped out of his daze so violently his chair nearly flipped.

"I-I’ll get it! Don’t move! None of you bastards move!"

"Wa—"

Before anyone could react, Garrick vanished.

Only several seconds later did he suddenly reappear carrying a sack overflowing with gold coins.

However, sand now clung to his forehead, knees, and palms, while his alcohol bottle had mysteriously disappeared somewhere along the way.

"I got it! Hahahaha!"

Garrick slammed the sack onto the floor and burst into manic laughter.

"Now we can bet!"

The city lords stared at him speechlessly.

As for where Garrick had gotten that money... none of them wanted to know.

...

Many such gatherings were taking place throughout the Calderalth estate, separated according to hierarchy.

While the city lords convened in one area, the town lords gathered elsewhere, followed by the village lords and the countless smaller house heads who had come to participate in the Proving.

The same applied to the trainees.

The Tier Three section of the Calderalth training grounds had been divided according to the caliber of candidates, with Steel reserved exclusively for the descendants of the high houses.

The message was simple. Power and status above everything else.

The doors to the Steel training grounds stood wide open as the candidates from the other high houses strode inside.

The Calderalth candidates, who had been deeply engrossed in training, gradually slowed before turning their attention toward the newcomers.

The divine beauties of the Heno lineage.

The brutes of Hartvain.

The sharp-eyed candidates of the Ocren house.

The composed descendants of Korrath.

And finally, the chubby candidates of the Dovaire house.

The five great high houses of the South.

Each group was led by their head candidate, their chins raised slightly while immense pride radiated from their very bearing.

Seated quietly at the edge of the training grounds, Zephyrion slowly opened his eyes.

The gathering held a day before the Proving was an old tradition in the South.

The participating candidates from each house were placed within the same environment and instructed to train together. But everyone knew it was merely a façade.

Though sparring and fighting were strictly forbidden before the Proving began, the training grounds themselves had been intentionally arranged for one purpose.

To observe.

Watch the competition train. Search for weaknesses. Probe for secrets. Form alliances.

Here, anything went.

Zephyrion swept his gaze calmly across every single one of them. Then he simply closed his eyes once more.

’So that’s him.’

Vaelor Ocren narrowed his eyes at the figure seated quietly in the corner.

Tall. Calm. Hair neatly tied behind him.

Zephyrion Calderalth.

Vaelor’s gaze gradually turned colder. Yet he wasn’t the only one staring.

’Zephyrion Calderalth...’

Lucien Dovaire narrowed his eyes as well. This was the one he had to defeat. For his mother.

Meanwhile, Draven grinned widely before flexing his muscles and bursting into loud laughter for no apparent reason at all.

Kaelen Korrath frowned faintly as he observed Zephyrion with unreadable eyes.

Of them all, only Nedra Heno openly gnashed her teeth while glaring at Zephyrion with unconcealed fury.

"This bastard..."

Seated quietly on either side of Zephyrion was a petite innocent-looking girl with chubby cheeks, alongside another whose long hair obscured most of her face.

Both sat obediently beside him as though he were some kind of master.

Of all the disgusting things wrong with the world, this bastard had actually dared to oppress women!

Nedra’s strides were sharp and quick. Within moments, she was already standing directly before Zephyrion, her fierce gaze locked onto him.

"You..."