I feared I had said something inappropriate. After all, the room fell silent as if cold water had been poured on everyone.
At this point, I carefully reconstructed my sentence: "I'm the youngest of this house."
Subject, verb, object—nothing seemed out of place upon reflection.
At this moment, a voice called out, "Luan of the Badniker family?"
It was the man standing on the podium. I had seen his face several times when I was at the main house.
It is Luke, the Iron-Blooded Knights' leader and the family head's half-brother.
"Yes," I replied.
Luke looked at me gently and nodded. "It is confirmed. Please take a seat."
Why the formal tone?
And why was he telling me to sit? More importantly, what exactly was this gathering for?
I scratched the back of my head, trying to recall how I had ended up in this auditorium.
With Arjan's help, I had managed to arrive at the main house. All I had wanted was to soak in a warm bath and fill my stomach with luxurious food, but that wasn't in the cards. Just as I neared the mansion's entrance, I encountered an unexpected figure—Kayan, the collector.
" Oh! Sir Kayan, it has been a while," I had remarked.
" Young Master Luan, please hurry to the auditorium," Kayan had urged.
" What? Why?"
Half-pushed by Kayan's frantic urging, I found myself in the auditorium. The situation had come to this.
Feeling awkward standing around, I walked unsteadily and took a seat.
On the podium, Luke resumed calling names, "There was a delay. I will continue now. Tonio of the Peris family..."
Wait, isn't the blessing ceremony tomorrow?
Only then did I roughly grasp the situation. Still, I turned to the person sitting next to me for confirmation. "What are we doing here now?"
"Don't act all friendly with me, or I will kill you," the other party growled.
I recoiled, gasping in surprise.
The girl next to me appeared around my age, with hair that hovered between white and silver. But what stood out most was her expression. Although I had done nothing wrong, she glared at me as if I were some kind of bug before abruptly turning away.
— Hoh ... She seems to have an unusual background.
He startled me
—You are awake now, Martial God? You didn't respond when I called you.
—Didn't I tell you? I will only wake up when I feel a special presence.
—You didn't say anything.
—Is that so?
The Martial God's voice sounded oddly cheerful.
—By the way, everyone here seems to be descended from a hero's lineage, right?
—It seems so, Martial God.
—It is a gathering of gems. The girl in front of you, in particular, seems to be the successor of a prestigious lineage, one that rivals your own. Are you perhaps acquainted with her?
—Not at all.
Unlike Carzakh, her appearance and voice were unfamiliar. I wouldn't forget someone with such a striking appearance. Still, something was off about her—more than a bad temper.
Come to think of it, I was truly in a miserable state right now. I probably reeked, too.
—Anyway, I want to watch how things unfold. Please be quiet, Martial God.
—Even if you didn't say it... I think it is time to sleep again.
The Martial God's voice faded gradually.
I quietly waited for Luke to finish calling names. My eyelids grew heavy, and the tension in my body slowly eased, likely from the relief of finally reaching the main house.
"Luan," someone called.
There was no response.
"Luan Badniker," the voice called again. "Wake up."
" Ugh. " I opened my eyes slightly as someone shook my shoulder.
I must have dozed off.
Swallowing my saliva, I looked up to see Luke staring down at me.
"Today's schedule is over. We need to clean up the auditorium, so head back now," Luke instructed.
I glanced around in a daze and realized that I was the only one left in the room.
"Yes," I drawled, rising from my seat.
However, it wasn't as easy as I expected. My body hadn't fully recovered yet—a lingering side effect of the White Fire state. It had been four days since I defeated the Sapphire Snake in the mountains, and I still needed three more days to regain my physical condition.
I also have to see my mother.
I wanted to visit her right away, but she wouldn't be pleased to see her son in such a disheveled state after so long.
I decided to wash up first and left the auditorium, only to find someone standing in front of the entrance, blocking the way.
As I attempted to walk past him, since I didn't recognize his face, the man called out, "Luan Badniker."
"Who are you?" I asked, puzzled.
"Hariba Garcia," he answered.
"Garcia?"
I recalled that one of the Badnikers' branch families bore that surname.
I tilted my head, trying to recall. "Do you have business with me?"
Hariba regarded me calmly, but I couldn't help narrowing my eyes, wondering, What is with this fellow?
This was likely our first meeting, yet his restless fingers, uneven breathing, and slightly bloodshot eyes betrayed the emotions beneath his composed facade. This bastard was harboring killing intent toward me.
Hariba stared at me for a moment before leaving without another word. Unease crept over me, and though I wanted to smack the back of his head, chasing him down wasn't an option. Cleaning up remained my priority.
As I took another step, another voice echoed. "It's been a while."
Shit.
All I wanted was to wash up. I wasn't some local attraction. It was annoying having people talk to me every time I took a step.
I turned to see who it was this time. Thankfully, it was a familiar face. "Hector?"
"How did you address me?" Hector asked.
"Brother Hector," I added.
Hector burst out laughing, though not because it was genuinely funny.
"I never thought I would see you here," Hector remarked.
Was it so strange for someone of the Badniker bloodline to visit the Badnikers' main house?
I couldn't read his intentions from his expression alone, but it was clear he wasn't pleased to see his younger brother after so long, nor was he trying to reconnect. It wasn't anything that sentimental.
We were half-siblings, sharing the same blood, yet Hector had led those who mistreated me after my lack of talent was revealed.
"I'm fed up," Hector said.
Should I say I expected this?
He stared at me intently, his frown deepening. "I'm really fed up with your shamelessness."
I remained silent.
"What nerve you have, showing your face at the main house! Was tarnishing the family's reputation at the first blessing ceremony not enough?" Hector demanded, sparks flying from his eyes.
I felt like he would tear me apart on the spot.
I could easily tell why he was angry. All the children of the Iron-Blooded Lord craved his recognition, but Hector was an extreme case. He'd slaughter ten or a hundred people without hesitation just to hear a single "Well done" from his father.
"The family head personally summoned me," I replied.
"I heard that too. It is hard to believe," Hector muttered, sighing. "I was sure that the Council of Elders, those cunning old foxes, were spouting nonsense."
I didn't comment.
Hector's expression and voice softened with unmistakable respect for the Iron-Blooded Lord. "Father is a busy man. He can't fully grasp the family's intricacies."
Then, his demeanor changed instantly, and he glared at me. "The problem is you. I can't believe you crawled here just because Father summoned you. Do you have any sense? This isn't like the first blessing ceremony. Back then, neither the imperial family nor the damn Goodsprings attended. Now, the Fourth Prince and the Goodsprings' daughter are here."
I let him vent.
"If you had even a shred of awareness, you wouldn't have come," Hector spat.
I met Hector's gaze and asked, "So what?"
"What?"
"You've been talking forever, but what did you expect me to do?" I shot back.
My discomfort was growing—my body felt filthy, and this petty argument only annoyed me further.
"If I hadn't obeyed Father, you would've criticized me for that too. You'd never stop nagging," I added.
Hector's expression darkened dangerously, and he lunged at me. I could see the movement coming, but dodging seemed impossible. The White Fire state's side effects still lingered.
Maybe I shouldn't have run my mouth.
Taking a hit and washing up quickly seemed better than standing here and listening to his rant.
Bam!
Unexpectedly, someone stepped in just before the punch landed.
Hector frowned and asked, "Who are you?"
It was Arjan. She had been waiting outside the auditorium and intervened at the perfect moment.
"My apologies. This seems to have escalated beyond a sibling quarrel," she said calmly.
"Are you a butler?" Hector demanded.
Arjan didn't answer.
"Let go," Hector commanded.
Arjan complied immediately.
Hector slapped her cheek, the force sending her monocle flying.
Did the blow tear the inside of her mouth? It wouldn't be surprising, given the backhanded strike's strength.
I watched in silence. Arjan could've avoided it but chose to take the hit—a stark contrast to how she had prevented the attack on me.
It felt strange. Why did I feel worse than if I had been hit?
"I don't know what the family's elders are thinking. Isn't the collection system meant to deal with this kind of trash?" Hector grumbled.
Silence ensued.
"You'd better pray you receive at least one blessing tomorrow. If you're judged unworthy again, I won't let you off easily," Hector threatened.
As Hector turned away, his face twisted with anger, I stepped forward and smacked the back of his head.
He seemed utterly bewildered. Given his skill, he should have sensed me approaching from behind. What truly caught him off guard was that I—of all people—had dared to hit him.
Staggering briefly, Hector quickly regained his balance and glared at me. "You shi—"
Perhaps his anger clouded his judgment, as he threw a wild, emotional punch. No matter how fast it was, I could dodge it if I anticipated the timing. And with a punch like that, it was even easier.
I sidestepped Hector's swing and slapped his cheek.
Hector's eyes glazed over—not from pain, but as if he were a scholar witnessing an incomprehensible phenomenon. He had completely lost his mind.
I reversed my swinging hand and slapped Hector's opposite cheek with the back of it.
Hector snapped back to reality after two slaps. Without saying a word, he threw another punch, far sharper and more controlled than before. He seemed to have regained his composure.
I dodged the attack by a hair's breadth, and he gritted his teeth. "You..."
Perhaps driven by anger, he reached for the hilt of the sword at his waist.
Is he going to draw it?
I also had the Seven Sins Sword, but in its current state, it looked worse than a bladeless kitchen knife.
As I debated how to respond, a lion-like roar stopped us in our tracks. "Stop—!"