The moment I ascended the stairs to the fifth floor, the scenery transformed dramatically. As I took the final step, the mansion's interior vanished, replaced by the edge of a steep cliff. The sight was breathtaking, almost surreal in its vividness.
"How strange," I murmured.
Was it an illusion? It felt too real to be one.
The dim sky stretched endlessly above, and what I initially assumed were birds turned out to be bats, circling ominously. The atmosphere was undeniably dark and foreboding.
"I suppose this is your first time on the fifth floor," Hector remarked, his tone dripping with condescension. "The scenery here changes every time. Last time, it was a beach at sunset."
"Is this illusion magic?" I asked.
"Who knows?" he replied dismissively.
The space was vast, but finding our destination was surprisingly simple. A table and chairs had been placed inexplicably at the cliff's edge.
I wondered if I could even eat in such a setting, though I recalled dining without issue atop Spirit Mountain.
I looked at Hector before walking toward it.
The Iron-Blooded Lord sat there, his voice as indifferent as ever. "You came."
"Yes. I'm here," I replied, nodding.
My gaze swept the area. The Iron-Blooded Lord wasn't alone. Seated around the round table were familiar faces: Heero Badniker, the eldest son, and Nero Badniker, the second daughter. By reputation, they were the most renowned of the Iron-Blooded Lord's children, surpassing even Hector.
Were they at home too? Unlikely.
Both were active heroes, their names known across the empire. As far as I knew, they were as busy as the Iron-Blooded Lord himself. That meant this cliff wasn't an illusion but an entirely separate place.
Could it be a subspace, the kind only an Archmage could create?
One could enter such a subspace with the owner's permission, the right coordinates, and a magic tool. It was a place accessible from anywhere, at any time, making it ideal for gathering people scattered across vast distances.
Of course, this was high-level magic, incredibly difficult to master. I'd heard fewer than ten individuals in the entire empire could wield it.
But there was one person in the Badniker family who far exceeded the norm—Archmage Assad. If anyone could use subspace magic effortlessly, it was him.
It was unsettling how seamlessly I had been transported without even noticing. The other person responsible was a monster among monsters, a guardian who had protected the Badniker family for a staggering 300 years.
Then a dry voice interrupted my thoughts. "It is my first time seeing your face."
I turned toward the hoarse voice and saw a dazed face as if its owner had just woken up. It was Heero—someone who hadn't harmed me in particular, even before the regression. It was more accurate to say he wasn't even interested in me.
How should I describe this guy?
I wasn't sure if this was the right way to put it, but he didn't seem like a Badniker at all. He gave off none of the sinister, gloomy, or menacing aura typical of our family. Even now, if not for the Iron-Blooded Lord's presence, he would probably collapse onto the table and doze off.
In contrast, Nero was the epitome of a Badniker. Her aura was gloomy just to look at, and she sipped her tea without so much as glancing in my direction.
Heero suddenly tilted his head and asked the Iron-Blooded Lord, "Did you call both of them?"
"No."
"It was Luan who received Father's invitation," Nero said, her voice icy. "Meaning he's the one who summoned us here. So, Hector, by what right do you think you can just show up?"
"I have something to tell Father," Hector replied, his tone uncharacteristically subdued.
I studied at Hector, surprised. For some reason, the usually shameless young man looked intimidated. And I doubted it was simply because he stood before the Iron-Blooded Lord.
Are these two on bad terms? Maybe this is the case.
A flicker of contempt crossed Nero's face.
"You don't have the right to be here," Heero said flatly. "Frankly, I always thought you'd be cast out eventually."
"What does that—"
"You lack talent," Heero cut in, his words cold and final.
Hector's expression stiffened.
"It is earlier than expected, and your replacement is unexpected, but that doesn't give you the right to speak," Heero berated.
"I..." Hector's eyes tensed as he declared, "I'm not talking to you, Brother Heero. I'm talking to Father."
Oh ho, I thought, impressed despite myself . For someone who appears so cowed, Hector holds his ground surprisingly well. He may be a fool, but he doesn't seem entirely pathetic as he stands up to them.
"So, you are saying that I don't have the right to be here, is that it?" Heero rose from his seat, his annoyance palpable.
Tension rippled across Hector's face. His focus sharpened, his body coiled, ready to react at Heero's slightest movement. The situation was simple, yet thick with unspoken hostility.
The difference in their abilities was stark. Heero's palm struck Hector's solar plexus before he could even react. It wasn't a martial arts technique—just raw physical superiority.
If Hector was considered a genius among the Iron-Blooded Lord's children, then Heero would be a monster. Standing between them, I could clearly see the gap that separated the two.
Hector crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
"Just leave," Heero said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Don't embarrass yourself any further."
"I, I...!" Hector stammered, struggling to his feet. Then, with a sudden roar, he lunged at Heero.
Today seemed to be the day for revealing Hector's many sides. I hadn't expected to see such ugly desperation from him. In contrast, Heero remained expressionless, treating Hector's wild flailing not as determination but as futile thrashing.
Heero sidestepped effortlessly, then seized Hector by the throat in one swift motion.
"Don't make this more annoying than it has to be," Heero said, his voice chillingly calm. "Or do you want to die here?"
The sound of Heero's tightening grip was audible. Hector's face turned pale in an instant.
I frowned for a moment, finding this excessive.
Heero wasn't letting go. It was like they weren't brothers. He looked like he was just squashing a bug to death.
Even Hector hadn't been like this when he fought me. Immature as he was in many ways, he had at least shown a minimal amount of restraint. But I didn't sense even that much from Heero now.
I glanced at the Iron-Blooded Lord, wondering what was going through his mind. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on the table. He seemed lost in thought—or perhaps he wasn't thinking at all. Whatever he truly felt, he showed no intention of stepping in anytime soon.
Hector coughed, his complexion growing paler by the second.
What a mess of a family , I thought, exasperated.
"Brother Heero, let's stop here," I said, grabbing Heero's wrist. But he didn't even acknowledge me.
Of course, no one liked being ignored, and I instinctively tightened my grip. "I told you to stop."
He finally turned to look at me. His half-lidded eyes flickered with a faint glimmer of curiosity. "And why should I?"
"I'm sure that Brother Hector must've gotten the message by now," I replied.
"Doubt it," Heero said dismissively. "I know this fool better than you do."
"Then let me explain so that he will understand," I offered.
Heero gave me an intrigued look before finally releasing his grip with a nonchalant, "Do as you please."
I looked down at Hector lying on the ground, coughing pitifully.
"Why did you even charge at him?" I asked. "You're clearly in no condition to fight."
"Get out of the way," Hector muttered weakly.
"And if I do?" I challenged. "What are you going to say to the family head?"
"Just one—"
"One more chance?" I interrupted. "Is that what you're asking for?"
Hector fell silent.
I clicked my tongue, knowing I'd hit a nerve. "You're so desperate to prove yourself to the family head, but you still don't understand him."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you really think anything you say now will reach his ears?" I pressed.
Hector was at a loss.
"If anything, he'll only be more disappointed," I continued. "So, for your own sake, back off now. It's the right move."
"But—" he protested.
I leaned in and whispered softly enough for only Hector to hear, "Or would you rather I step in and beat you up instead of Brother Heero? Trust me, that'll be far more humiliating. And Father's disappointment will be even greater."
Hector's expression stiffened. Then he gritted his teeth, got up, and turned toward the Iron-Blooded Lord, bowing politely.
The Iron-Blooded Lord offered no response. In some ways, it seemed as if he had already lost interest in Hector.
Hector didn't seem to be expecting a response. He just turned and strode away.
I was still wondering how to leave when Hector walked a short distance and then vanished.
It was like magic. The landscape showed no signs of distortion, yet there must have been an exit over there.
"What did you say to him?" Heero asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
"Just reasoned with him," I replied flatly.
Heero snorted. "Doubt it. That guy's as stubborn as they come."
I didn't comment.
"Whatever," he muttered. "Don't feel like talking, fine."
Heero slouched back into his seat, sprawling across the table and letting out a wide yawn.
What struck me as odd was that the Iron-Blooded Lord showed no reaction to Heero's casual behavior.
Ludwig also behaved casually before the Iron-Blooded Lord, didn't he? Yet his composure paled beside Heero's. Does this mean that he trusts Heero?
At this moment, the Iron-Blooded Lord spoke, his voice calm. "Shall we begin the meal?"
Heero, who had been lounging on the table, and Nero, who had been sipping tea, both straightened instantly.
As Nero set her teacup down, the cups on the table vanished, replaced by an array of dishes. The appetizing aroma that filled the air reminded me I hadn't eaten breakfast.
"Let's eat," the Iron-Blooded Lord said.
"Thank you for the meal," Heero and Nero chimed in unison.
I echoed their words a beat later.
I took a bite of a juicy steak, grilled to perfection, then sampled a salad drizzled with an unfamiliar sauce. I usually preferred meat over vegetables, but this salad was just as delicious.
It was a pleasure to eat such fine food, but I couldn't help but feel that this gathering was about more than just a meal.
For a while, the only sounds were the clinking of utensils. I wasn't one to overindulge, but the food was so exquisite that I ended up eating more than I should have. There was simply so much of it.
After the quiet meal, the Iron-Blooded Lord dabbed his mouth and said, "Heero."
"Yes."
"I heard that you won the martial arts competition held by the Second Prince," the Iron-Blooded Lord continued. "You made it to the finals without a single scratch."
"That's right," Heero confirmed with a nod.
"If there is anything you desire, speak now," the Iron-Blooded Lord said.
At those words, I finally understood. This was a place of rewards and recognition.