Chapter 29: Craig’s Request [2]

The entire colosseum fell into a deathly, suffocating silence for the third time that day.

Tens of thousands of eyes shifted nervously between the young candidate standing at the base of the grand altar and the imposing figure seated upon the Scarlet Throne.

A private military organization was no small request.

Within the feudal structure of the Rynchester Duchy, granting a successor or a young master the right to raise his own independent army was tantamount to handing him an autonomous blade.

One that could cut through internal rivals or, if turned, pierce the heart of the throne itself.

Yet Duke Oscar showed no immediate reaction.

His weathered, cut-throat features remained entirely emotionless, his dark golden eyes locked onto his seventh son with an unreadable, piercing intensity.

BANG!

Suddenly, the heavy wooden balustrade of the high royal pavilion splintered.

The Sixth Young Master, Aaron von Darkstar, rose from his velvet seat in a fit of sudden, explosive fury.

His face was flushed red, his jaw clenched as he glared down at Craig with burning hatred.

"You insolent, arrogant child!" Aaron’s voice echoed across the quiet arena, sharp and accusatory.

"How dare you stand before the Patriarch and make such a treasonous demand?! Are you openly planning to build a rebel force to turn against your own blood?!"

Without waiting for Craig to reply, Aaron turned toward the throne, dropping to one knee and sweeping his cloak back with dramatic flair.

"Father! I humbly request that this arrogant brat be arrested on the spot and charged with high treason! His dragon bonds must be forcibly broken by the supreme elders at once before he becomes a threat to the Duchy!"

The silence in the grand colosseum stretched so thin it felt as though it might snap.

Duke Oscar did not move a muscle. Slowly, the Patriarch turned his head, his golden eyes drifting toward his sixth son.

The air around the elevated throne abruptly dropped by twenty degrees as a suffocating, crushing weight of raw Sword Demigod pressure slammed directly onto Aaron’s shoulders.

"Did I grant you permission to speak, Aaron?" Duke Oscar asked, his voice low, cold, and dripping with absolute lethality.

"Since when do you have the guts to tell me how to judge my own court?"

CRACK!

The marble floor beneath Aaron’s knees cracked under the sudden, agonizing surge of bloodlust.

Aaron’s entire body shuddered violently, his face turning pale white as sweat instantly drenched his collar.

The realization of his overstep hit him like a physical blow.

"F-Forgive me, Lord Father!" Aaron gasped out, his voice trembling as he pressed his forehead flat against the cold stone floor. "I... I spoke out of turn! Please forgive your son’s foolish rashness!"

"Sit down and close your mouth," Oscar commanded coldly.

"Y-Yes, Father!" Aaron scrambled back into his seat, his head lowered, his hands shaking as he felt the mocking, silent gazes of the other successors burning into his skin.

Duke Oscar slowly turned his gaze back down to the center of the arena, his expression softening back into its baseline of stoic authority as he addressed his youngest son.

"Speak, seventh child," Oscar said smoothly.

"What do you truly mean by making such an unheard-of request on the day of your triumph?"

Craig remained standing with complete grace, folding his hands behind his back.

He offered a respectful, measured bow to the throne before lifting his gaze to meet his father’s eyes.

"My intentions are purely transparent, Lord Father," Craig stated, his clear voice echoing through every corner of the vast arena.

"All I care about is growing stronger to meet your rigorous standards, traveling across the vast continents, and exploring the unknown limits of this world.

My sixth brother’s accusations of rebellion are entirely unfounded. I live for the honor of House Darkstar, and I would gladly spill my blood for our legacy."

He took a small step forward, his golden eyes glinting with absolute sincerity.

"The request I make today is born out of personal necessity—and for my own protection. As the Seventh Young Master returning with three powerful dragons, I am well aware that I have placed a massive target on my back.

To walk my path without a dedicated force of my own would be foolish."

Duke Oscar’s brow furrowed slightly. "A personal reason? Are you saying you cannot disclose this reason to your Patriarch?"

"I cannot, Lord Father," Craig replied calmly, without a single flicker of hesitation. "Not for now. I ask that you trust your son’s discretion."

GASSSSSSP!

A collective, terrified gasp swept through the noble stands and diplomatic galleries. Vassals shrank back in their seats, horrified by the boy’s sheer audacity.

To refuse an answer to Duke Oscar von Darkstar to his face was practically asking for execution!

For five long seconds, the Patriarch simply stared at Craig.

Then, his shoulders began to shake.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A thunderous, belly-deep laugh erupted from Duke Oscar’s chest, reverberating off the basalt walls of the colosseum so hard that small dust clouds fell from the vaulted ceiling.

The terrifying pressure hovering over the arena vanished in an instant, replaced by the Patriarch’s booming, genuine amusement.

"Good! Very good!" Duke Oscar roared, striking the armrest of his Scarlet Throne with a heavy fist. "You have the spine of a true Darkstarian! A weakling hides behind excuses, but a predator stands by his conviction!"

The Duke rose to his full height, his massive frame radiating absolute authority as he stretched his arms out toward the tens of thousands of spectators.

"Hear my decree!" Oscar’s voice thundered, instantly silencing the arena once more.

"As the absolute ruler of this Duchy, I hereby grant Craig von Darkstar the official, unconditional right to establish, command, and operate his own independent military company! It shall answer to him, and him alone!"

The crowd gasped in awe, but the Duke was not finished.

"Furthermore! For achieving the highest result in the history of the Dragon’s Calling Ceremony and breaking an ancient precedent, he shall be awarded ten thousand gold from the central treasury!"

Oscar pointed his gloved finger down at Craig.

"He is hereby granted full ownership of a private castle estate of his choosing—be it within the three Duchies or within the high quarters of the Imperial Capital! And from this moment forth, he is officially recognized across all territories as the Seventh Successor of the Darkstar Lineage!"

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The grand arena exploded into a deafening storm of applause, cheers, and war cries.

The spectator stands shook as tens of thousands of voices shouted Craig’s name, celebrating the rise of a new, legendary prodigy within the realm.

High up in the diplomatic box, Lady Alyse of House Veraxes leaned back, a faint, intrigued smile curling her lips as she watched the crimson-haired youth standing at the epicenter of the glory.

Craig bowed his head deeply toward the throne, his posture flawless.

"I thank you, Lord Father, for your supreme grace and mercy," Craig spoke softly, his words swallowed by the roar of the crowd.

As he slowly straightened up, his golden eyes darkened with a cold, terrifying resolve.

’The first step is complete,’ Craig thought to himself, his heart beating with the steady, heavy rhythm of his awakened Dragon’s Heart.

He hadn’t made that request out of mere vanity or petty family politics.

He knew the absolute, horrific truth of the timeline. In exactly twenty-five years, the second coming of the Apocalypse would descend upon the world.

The skies would rend open, the Abyssal Lords would crawl from the depths, and Earth—along with every continent on this world—would be reduced to an ash-covered graveyard if humanity remained divided and unprepared.

To stop that cataclysm, to ensure he survived and protected everything he intended to claim, he needed far more than personal strength.

He needed an elite, unyielding private army that answered to his command without question.

He needed a secret, shadows-spanning intelligence organization whose web stretched beyond the Western Continent—reaching into the deep snows of the North, the vast deserts of the South, and the ancient dynasties of the East.

Craig turned his head slightly, glancing back at Chaosbringer, Soul Dreamer, and Dark Sister, who were letting out synchronized roars that echoed his triumph.

The clock was ticking.

Twenty-five years was nothing in the grand scale of fate.

But today, the foundation had been laid—and when the Apocalypse finally arrived, Craig von Darkstar would be ready to conquer it.