Bump.
A massive shoulder checked him hard.
Regius didn't stumble, using a subtle flare of internal energy to become immovable. The impact felt like hitting a stone wall.
He turned. A mountain of a boy loomed over him.
Titus Keros, the heir to House Keros. His neck was thick with muscle, and his formal tunic strained at the seams, threatening to burst with every breath.
"Steady there, Aethel," Titus grinned, extending a hand the size of a ham. "It's a crowded floor. Easy to get knocked down if you're light on your feet."
"Titus," Regius said, taking the hand. "It's been a while."
Titus squeezed. It was a vice grip, a crude test of physical dominance designed to crack knuckles and force a wince.
Regius didn't change expressions. He cycled his energy into his palm, reinforcing his bone structure. He squeezed back, matching the pressure pound for pound, then exceeding it.
Titan's eyes flickered. His smile widened. The veins in his forearm bulged as he tried to crush the smaller hand, but he was gripping metal. A sharp pop echoed from his own knuckles.
He pulled his hand back, shaking it to restore circulation.
"Solid… very solid," Titus said, his eyes sparkling. "I heard the vacation to the border made you soft, spending years hiding in a tent sipping cocktails while your men did the bleeding."
"Moonshine," Regius said. "Those can be pretty strong. Want to try them out?"
Titus laughed, a loud bark that drew gazes from the nearby nobles. "Love to! Any soldier appreciates strong alcohol!"
"You're still seventeen…"
He slapped Regius on the shoulder—hard enough to bruise a lesser man—and moved on.
"Don't let the peacocks push you around." He waded into the crowd of nobles like a tank.
Regius adjusted his collar. He moved toward the refreshment table to reset. But as he reached for a glass, there was a different kind of gaze.
Standing in the periphery was a slight girl wearing glasses with advanced lenses.
Dawn Arcorn.
She was the beautiful heir to the Architects, a member of the Valiant faction. Though other Valiants build armies, they built infrastructures, creating the many state-of-the-art technologies present on the continent.
Wearing the colors of her house, a deep indigo and polished silver, her outfit was functional and with purpose. She ignored the party, her back to the dance floor. Looking intently at Regius's left hand.
Her lenses zoomed.
Regius shifted his hand behind his back, breaking her line of sight.
Dawn looked up. She met his eyes and adjusted her glasses, a flicker of intrigue lighting her sharp face.
"Is there a loose thread, Young Lady Dawn?" Regius asked.
"Top-quality wyvern leather," Dawn said, her voice detached and monotone. "Containment runes present… the glove serves as a limiter. Why is that?"
Regius's heart spiked. The Arcorns are obsessed with data and observation; it was dangerous.
"Why would a Sovereign need to suppress an Elite-tier summon?" She tilted her head. "They usually demand to shine. Their arrogance knows no bounds."
"Modesty is a virtue," Regius said, flashing a practiced smile.
"Hmm. Modesty is a variable I haven't solved quite yet." She pulled a small digital notebook from her spatial storage. She marked him down as a puzzle to be solved.
Regius tried to turn, but his eyesight was blocked by a flash of sky-blue silk.
"Don't mind her. She overanalyzes everyone."
Helena Volantis glided between them, breaking the tension.
She was one of the promising prospects of the Valiant Faction. House Volantis ruled a mountainous domain famous for its aerial cavalry. They were the rockstars of the nobility—charismatic, flashy, and beloved by the commoners.
Helena looked every inch the Sky Knight. She was tall and athletic, wearing a gown of white gold and jade silk that flowed around her like clouds. She carried herself with the breezy, effortless confidence of someone who spent half her life in the saddle of a flying mount.
"Helena."
Regius greeted her with a genuine nod.
"Regius." She handed him a glass. "Welcome back to the pit of vipers. So, you came back from your vacation… how does it compare?"
"I believe I prefer the mud," Regius said, taking the glass. "Filled with much more honest people, I think."
Helena smiled. "Unfortunately, your place is here, Savant. The others have been noisy since you left, especially those from the Bloc. They think House Aethel is a toothless wyvern."
"I don't mind them that much." Regius sipped his wine. "After all, hyenas only yap."
"Careful," Helena clinked her glass against his. "They bite in packs."
They continued their conversation, catching up on the matters Regius had not been privy to for the past two years.
"Speak of the devil. Watch your six, Regius. Your age-old friend is making his entrance."
She drifted away into the crowd.
Regius turned. The atmosphere in the room shifted.
The chatter on the ballroom floor died down, replaced by a low, buzzing murmur.
Whispers rippled through the onlookers.
"Look, he's going to cause trouble again…"
"Is he going to make a scene?"
"Those jewels. Desperate…"
Cassius Marius had entered the picture.
The heir of House Marius cut a striking figure. He was handsome in a cruel way, dressed in a suit of crimson that screamed wealth he didn't have. He wore heavy gold rings on every finger and a necklace of rubies that looked heavy enough to choke him.
Flanking him was his entourage. One of them leaned in, whispering something into Cassius's ear. He pointed a manicured finger directly at Regius.
Cassius stopped. He looked across the room. His eyes locked onto Regius.
There was no politeness in that gaze. There was only hate—a generational hatred fueled by debt and humiliation. Cassius nodded, a sneer twisting his lips.
He began to walk. He cut a straight line through the crowd, flanked by his Bloc sycophants.
Regius stood his ground. He felt the heat of his own anger rising in his chest—a desire to crush the insect approaching him. A member of the house that killed his friend was in front of him.
He suppressed it. He locked his face in a mask of bored politeness.
Cassius stopped three feet away, blocking the path. The room went dead silent, waiting for the first shot.
"Well, well," Cassius said, his voice loud enough to reach the balconies. "The Savant returns from his little vacation. I didn't think they let border rats into the Keros Estate."
"Cassius," Regius said. "I see you haven't lost your taste for theatrics or cheap cologne."
The Valiants chuckled. Cassius's eyes narrowed.
"You talk big for a weakling," Cassius spat. "Can't even protect your people, eh? I heard a rumor about your little adventure. Word has it, you lost a friend and cowered back in your puny safe space. A shame..."
The rage hit Regius like a physical blow. The image of Milo, bleeding out in the grass, flashed in his mind. His finger twitched toward his empty hip. He wanted to tear Cassius's throat out.
"Serenity," Libra's voice echoed in his mind.
Regius forced a breath into his lungs. He pushed the anger aside.
He smiled. It was a gentle, pitying expression.
"You speak of competence with such confidence, Cassius," Regius said. "It is fascinating coming from a House that has spent the last century weeping over land you lost because you couldn't manage your domain."
The chatter in the ballroom died completely. The Legacy nobles on the raised platform leaned forward, swirling their wine.
The adults in the mezzanines above looked down toward the exchange. Exchanging hush words with each other. Intrigued by the action the heir of House Aethel—one of the Savants—would take.
Cassius stiffened. "That land is ours by blood right."
"It was yours by charity. And you squandered it. We did all the work to make it a thriving region."
He chuckled.
"You're just a noisy neighbor. Throwing tantrums at the fence because you can't keep your own house in order."
A ripple of laughter went through the room. It started with the Valiants and rippled to the Legacies. Even some of the Bloc members looked away, embarrassed.
Cassius turned a violent shade of red. The narrative he was trying to create was crumbling. He looked like a petulant child being scolded by an adult.
"You think you're better than me?" Cassius snarled, his mana flaring. "You think a title makes you strong?"
Cassius raised his wrist. He tapped a furious sequence into his high-end band.
A massive, red holographic window projected into the center of the ballroom, hovering between them. It pulsed with aggressive light.
[DUEL CHALLENGE ISSUED]
[CHALLENGER: CASSIUS MARIUS (RANK 2)]
[OPPONENT: REGIUS AETHEL (RANK 2)]
[TERMS: FIRST BLOOD]
The crowd gasped. A formal challenge at a gala was aggressive. In the event that a duel is issued, a Valiant Heir must accept or lose face.
Cassius grinned, his hand hovering over his sword hilt. "Accept it, coward. Let's see if your blade is as sharp as your tongue."
Regius looked at the floating red window. He looked at Cassius, who was vibrating with energy, eager to start the duel.
Regius didn't raise his wrist. He swiped his gloved hand to the side, flinging the window outside his vision.
Flick.
He dismissed the notification like a piece of spam mail.
The room went dead silent.
"You decline?" Cassius was disbelief warring with rage. "You refuse a duel?"
"There is no honor in beating a child," Regius said.
He looked Cassius up and down, his violet eyes filled with boredom.
"I do not fight with children who mistake noise for power."
Regius turned his back.
It was the ultimate insult. To turn one's back on an armed opponent was to declare them harmless.
"Grow up, Cassius," Regius said over his shoulder. "Then we can talk."
He began to walk away.
Cassius stood among his entourage in the center of the floor, impotent and furious. The laughter of the crowd began to rise again. He was losing.
He needed to make him turn. He needed to make Regius bleed.
"Walk away, mongrel!" Cassius screamed at Regius's back.
Regius didn't stop.
"Run back to your mother!" Cassius yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. "Does the Valkyrie keep your father on a leash? Or does she just spread her legs for commoners to keep the bloodline 'Valiant'?"
The room gasped.
It was an insult against Lady Lucine's honor. Cassius just broke the rules: To not insult the head of a Noble House. It was a line that could not be uncrossed.
Regius stopped.
He didn't turn around.
The air pressure in the ballroom dropped. The crystal flutes on the nearby tables developed hairline fractures.
In the silence, a heartbeat thundered—heavy, ancient, and terrifying.
"Say that again. One. More. Time..."