The study was quiet when Aden entered. No guards stood outside the door this time—no ceremonial knights flanking the hall. Just the heavy oak doors, barely cracked open, and the soft glow of lamplight spilling into the corridor.
Inside, the room felt like a reliquary of discipline and history.
Tomes lined the shelves, their spines worn with use and age. A massive map of the Empire hung on the far wall, littered with red markings and black pins, some scratched through, others recently added. A long table rested in the middle of the room with a single chair occupied by Ed Vasco, the Patriarch himself—his posture rigid, his cloak draped across one shoulder like a war banner.
He didn't speak as Aden stepped inside.
Only nodded, motioning to the seat across from him.
Aden sat.
For a while, the only sound was the low crackle of the hearth and the ticking of an old pocket watch hanging on a chain near the desk's edge.
"You've changed," Ed said at last. His voice was even—neither cold nor warm, but edged with something unreadable.
Aden didn't answer.
Ed studied him. Not like a father gazing at his son—but like a man staring at something unfamiliar... something potentially dangerous. Aden could see the calculations in his eyes. The way his father's fingers drummed against the polished wood. The silence wasn't awkward—it was intentional.
"I heard what happened at the Bastion," Ed continued. "Black Knight is not a position to be given so lightly."
He didn't phrase it as a question. But Aden knew it was one.
"…I'm still me," Aden replied after a pause, his voice low.
"Are you?" Ed leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. "Because Wrath doesn't make men stronger. It hollows them. Sharpens the rage, dulls the soul. The Aden I raised would've flinched at what I saw."
Aden's gaze met his father's. "Then maybe you raised the wrong man."
That earned a brief, subtle twitch at the corner of Ed's mouth. Not quite a smile. Not quite surprise.
"A man must change to survive," Aden added. "You taught me that."
"I taught you control," Ed said. His voice was suddenly cold. "Not chaos."
The words sat between them like a blade laid on the table—neither drawn nor sheathed.
For a moment, Aden considered lying. Pretending to be the obedient son. But what would that serve? His father wasn't a fool. He didn't value loyalty—he valued results. Clarity. And above all, strength.
"I know what i means to be a Black Knight," Aden said quietly. "I know what i need to do."
"People spend their entire life sharpening their swords to even reach that level, and you think just a month of training makes you better than them?" Ed's tone didn't rise, but it hit harder than a slap.
"No," Aden said. "But i think you forgot that i beat five of them."
Ed was silent.
Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, watching the firelight flicker along the walls.
"Do you know why the Wrath trait runs in our bloodline, Aden?" he asked. "Why we carry the curse, generation after generation?"
Aden didn't answer.
"It's because somewhere in our history, one of us made a pact," Ed continued. "With something far older than man. We were given strength—not to rule, but to endure. To stand as shields when the Empire faced extinction. That is our burden. Not glory. Not power. Sacrifice."
Aden's jaw clenched. "You call it sacrifice. I call it survival."
"Then you'll die with a sword through your back." Ed's eyes flashed. "Because the world will always fear a man who survives when he should've died. Just like they feared me. Just like they feared your Grandfather. And now... they fear you."
He stood slowly, walking to the window, arms behind his back.
"They're watching you now, Aden. The Senate. The nobles. Even the Emperor himself. They see a monster rising from ashes they thought they had buried. You don't get to be a shadow anymore."
Aden stood as well, eyes narrowed.
"I never wanted to be a shadow."
Ed turned to face him again, and for the first time, there was no tension in his expression—only weariness. Maybe even something close to pride, though it was buried deep.
"You're not just my son anymore," Ed said quietly.
"You now have even greater burdens to endure."
Aden frowned. "And what burden is that?"
Ed stepped closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"The Burden of Protecting the one's dearest to you"
The two stood there, face to face. Father and son. Legacy and weapon. Neither willing to show weakness. Neither willing to let go of who they'd become.
Then Ed's grip eased.
"You leave for Dahaka soon. Come back alive." A pause. "We don't run from curses in this family—we conquer them."
Aden nodded once. "I don't intend to die."
He turned to leave.
But before he reached the door, Ed's voice stopped him one last time.
"Don't forget who you are, Aden. Because soon, everyone else will."
The future coiled in his hands.
By dawn, the world would crack.
And Aden would be the one to split it open.