Chapter 19: Questioning [2]

The moment Duke Oscar placed his heavy right hand onto Craig’s shoulder, a violent tremor rippled through Craig’s spine.

It was an instinctual, primal reaction.

Standing inches away from a genuine Sword Demigod, Craig’s newly forged dragon-blood roared in silent alarm, warning every nerve in his body that he was in the presence of an absolute apex predator.

He dared not make a single hostile movement.

To attempt to resist or deceive a man who could slice the horizon in half with a mere flick of his wrist was nothing short of suicidal.

Yet, Craig had intentionally returned to the Crimson Castle without attempting to conceal his awakened mana.

For the Darkstar Ducal Family, the existence of the Dragon’s Grace was the fundamental bedrock of their entire power structure.

Because Dragons were Children of the Abyss—primordial abominations born with mystical spatial traits and nearly limitless mana reserves.

Darkstarian descendants who successfully tamed a dragon and forged a soul-bond would resonate directly with their dragon’s ancient origin.

That resonance forced open their dormant pathways, granting them a swift core awakening and an innate talent.

However, the relying on the Dragon’s Grace was not merely a proud tradition; it was a desperate necessity born from a dark historical secret.

A century ago, when the legendary founder of House Darkstar waged a bloody, apocalyptic war against the First Dragon, a horrific ancestral curse was laid upon their bloodline.

From that generation onward, members of the Darkstar family were physically incapable of awakening their mana cores through conventional meditation or raw physical training.

They were forced to rely on the overwhelming, chaotic energy of live dragons during the Dragon’s Calling to force their pathways open.

A crucial secret the Ducal House hidden from rival Great Houses behind the illusion of a sacred, divine ritual.

For the Seventh Young Master to return from his desolate frontier barony with a fully realized, independent mana core was an absolute impossibility that shook the very foundations of the family.

Craig controlled his erratic breathing, drawing upon the latent resilience of his Divine Draconic Physique.

The passive draconic authority woven into his bones subtly began to digest and disperse the suffocating, crushing pressure radiating from the Duke, converting the leaked mana into raw nourishment that fortified his inner pathways.

Craig lowered his head once more, maintaining a posture of absolute, unyielding respect.

"Greetings, Lord Patriarch."

The entire dining hall fell into an eerie, dead silence.

The gathered elders, vassal lords, and direct successors stared at the youth in absolute bewilderment.

Anyone else standing beneath the focused, mountain-crushing gaze of a Sword Demigods.

The ruler of the vast Rynchester Duchy would be cowering on their knees, hyperventilating in sheer terror, or desperately confessing their sins.

Yet Craig stood tall, his posture straight, his golden eyes glowing with an unbroken, quiet pride.

"It is truly a simple matter, Father," Craig spoke softly, a calm, polite smile gracing his young face.

"A simple matter, you say?" Duke Oscar raised an eyebrow, his terrifying golden eyes narrowing slightly.

"Go on then, child. Enlighten us."

"You are more than welcome to deploy your shadow enforcers to verify my words, Father," Craig began smoothly, keeping his voice steady.

"It occurred just yesterday morning. My patrolling horsemen captured a wandering 1st-Tier Abomination that had strayed from the western rift into the rocky borders of my barony."

"A wandering 1st-Tier Abomination?" Duke Oscar frowned subtly, his interest piqued.

"Yes, Father," Craig nodded. "The beast was heavily chained and secured inside my subterranean prison vault.

Out of sheer curiosity regarding the nature of abyssal monsters, I descended into the dungeon alone to inspect it."

"Alone?" Craig added, letting a slight touch of self-deprecating regret color his tone.

He waited for a reaction from the Patriarch, but Duke Oscar remained utterly silent, his heavy hand still resting on Craig’s shoulder like a block of iron.

Craig continued without missing a beat.

"I did not wish to be distracted by my entourage, so I instructed Ser Hughway and the guard contingent to remain above the trapdoor," Craig explained.

"However, the moment I stepped near the cell, the Abomination broke its bindings and launched a ferocious attack against me. I mobilized every basic sword form I knew, fighting frantically to survive. But as the beast backed me into a corner and moved in for the final strike..."

Craig let out a long, heavy sigh, shaking his head. "...The sheer, life-or-death pressure ignited something within my chest. My dormant pathways burst open, and I forcefully awakened my mana core right then and there. ℯℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Fueled by the sudden surge of energy, I managed to slay the Abomination and drag myself back to the surface."

Craig dropped onto one knee, bowing his head deeply toward the stone floor.

"I deeply apologize for my recklessness in disregarding my guards, Father. I acted foolishly and nearly lost my life. Please forgive my arrogance."

Duke Oscar stared down at the top of Craig’s head for several long, agonizing seconds.

Then, a dark, low chuckle rumbled from the depths of his chest, expanding into a booming, resonant laugh that echoed across the vaulted ceiling.

"I see!" Duke Oscar grinned, his white teeth gleaming against the dim lighting. "To think a child of my blood has managed to shatter a century-old ancestral curse through pure, desperate mental pressure... Hahaha!"

The Patriarch released his iron grip from Craig’s shoulder, allowing Craig to feign a subtle sigh of immense relief as he stood back up.

Duke Oscar turned on his heel, floating effortlessly back to the head of the long mahogany table.

He reached out and grabbed his heavy golden goblet, raising the dark vintage wine high into the air.

"Tomorrow’s Dragon’s Calling ceremony promises to be a truly magnificent spectacle!" Oscar announced, his booming voice commanding the absolute attention of every noble present.

"Since my seventh son has managed to break his limits and awaken his core without relying on the crutch of the Dragon’s Grace, he has proven himself beyond shadow of a doubt to be a worthy successor candidate of the Darkstar bloodline!"

This declaration caused the present successors to flinch.

Oscar turned his golden gaze back to Craig, gesturing toward an empty, high-backed velvet seat situated near the middle of the table.

"Come, take your seat, my child," Duke Oscar commanded, his lips curled in a genuinely amused smile.

"I am exceedingly curious to see what tier of dragon you will tame tomorrow when you enter the volcanic sanctum."

"Thank you, Father," Craig replied respectfully.

He walked smoothly down the side of the table and took his assigned seat, right beside his fourth older brother.

The moment Craig sat down, he felt the heavy, suffocating weight of dozens of hostile, wary glances locking onto his side profile.

The elders were assessing his threat level, the vassal lords were recalculating their political alignments, and his direct siblings were staring at him with cold, veiled murderous intent.

Craig picked up his silver goblet, casually swirling the red wine within, his golden eyes scanning the table under the long shadow of his lashes.

He didn’t care about their wariness.

He was watching them back—specifically analyzing the subtle facial twitches and micro-expressions of his five direct siblings.

He was going to figure out exactly which one of these beloved brothers and sisters had placed that wretched, poisonous maid in his castle.