The cold moonlight poured over the ancient walls of the Verentis estate as the final echoes of steel faded into silence. The gates were shattered, blood staining the once-pristine marble of the noble grounds. The smell of smoke and iron hung heavy in the air. Corpses of Maren's soldiers, many of whom mistook Achilles' forces as rebellious commoners, littered the courtyards—some beheaded, others burned alive or impaled.
It was not a battle.
It was a purge.
Achilles Verentis stood amidst the carnage, his armor splattered with crimson, his expression unreadable. His soldiers, forged from decades of war and hardship, had shown no mercy. The guards who once blindly served Duke Maren were executed swiftly and without hesitation.
And now, Achilles stood before the grand hall where the usurper cowered.
Within the estate's inner chamber, the once-grand throne room had become a mockery of nobility. Duke Maren of House Marestel was dragged in, his silken robes torn, his face bruised from resistance. He still carried the air of arrogance, the smugness of power.
Flanked by Kael and Renar, Achilles stood still, like a statue of death incarnate.
Maren coughed and laughed bitterly. "So, the forgotten son returns. You really think this little rebellion will fix anything?"
Achilles said nothing. His eyes bored into Maren's soul.
"You think killing me will solve your problems?" Maren spat, voice rising. "I am Duke Maren of House Marestel! One of the founding houses of Valeriand! My family will descend upon you like hounds the moment they hear of this. And if that doesn't scare you, the new King certainly won't tolerate this kind of treason!"
Still, Achilles remained quiet.
Maren stepped forward, smirking. "What then? You think your little border rats can hold the capital? The court? The kingdom? Do you even know how deep my alliances run? With one word, I could wipe your name from every record—make you a villain, a traitor!"
He looked around, as if expecting support.
"I'll admit," Maren sneered, "your return was dramatic. But it's too late. This land, this duchy—it belongs to Marestel now. Your mother and father? They're just old ghosts, rotting beneath your own estate. Did you know? I placed them in the war criminal cells myself. It was poetic."
Achilles' jaw tightened. A flicker of rage passed through his icy gaze.
Kael stepped forward. "Enough!"
But Achilles raised a hand, silencing him. Slowly, he stepped toward Maren.
The aura that emanated from him was suffocating. Heavy. Cold. Deathly.
Maren faltered.
Those eyes.
They were not the eyes of a noble. Not even of a soldier. They were the eyes of a man who had walked through hell and carved a throne from bones.
"W-What are you—" Maren's voice cracked as Achilles stopped just inches from him.
"You speak of politics," Achilles said, voice low and composed. "Of kings and courts. But I've seen things far worse than your empty threats."
He leaned forward.
"I have killed monsters wearing human faces. Fought nightmares that tore men apart with a whisper. Your words mean nothing to me. And your life?" He paused. "Even less."
Maren staggered back. "Wait... w-we can make a deal. Name your price. I'll abdicate the estate. You can have the lands. I'll even speak on your behalf to the King—"
"You imprisoned my parents," Achilles said, stepping forward again.
"It—it was politics! Just politics! I had no choice, I swear. Please, Achilles, we're both nobles—we can come to an understanding!"
Achilles turned to Kael. "Bring him."
"No, wait! Achilles! Don't do this—!"
The doors were thrown open.
They descended into the cold, forgotten depths beneath the estate. Old cells lined the walls—cells once meant for war criminals, now the prison of two innocents: Caldus and Irelya Verentis.
The moment the rusted gate was opened, a faint voice called out, weak but defiant.
"Who goes there?"
"It's me," Achilles said, kneeling.
A gasp. Then soft sobbing.
"Achilles...?"
"I'm here, Mother. Father... it's over."
The old duke and duchess were frail but alive. Their chains were removed, and they were carried out with reverence.
Maren watched in silence, now trembling.
When they returned to the surface, Achilles turned to his men.
"Place him at the gallows. At dawn."
"No! Achilles, I can help you! My family—"
"They will join you in hell."
Maren's screams echoed through the estate as he was dragged away, a fallen noble clinging to the very arrogance that doomed him.
Achilles stood beside his mother and father, watching the sun rise for the first time from the balcony of their reclaimed home.
No more hiding.
No more waiting.
House Verentis had returned.