The emperor rose slowly with an anger filled gaze at Ace.
"You executed my daughter."
Ace's expression didn't shift. "She defied the law of my house and sought to trade imperial protection for betrayal. The blood she carried was imperial, yes. But the blood she spilled was Thornevale."
"Are you saying the law of your house supersedes the crown?" the emperor asked, voice like low thunder.
If any other noble was asked this, he would flat out deny this and would try to appease the emperor.
Even the transmigrators, despite having power would kneel and appease the emperor.
Ace replied without hesitation, "Yes, the law of my house always comes before the crown. Even your ancestors recognized this. To deny it now would be like slapping their memory in the face."
Gasps again — some in outrage, others in admiration.
The nobles were stunned by his audacity. The warriors and mages at his back stood silent, unmoved.
Aurelius stared at Ace for a long, long time.
Then — slowly — he sat again.
"No punishment, then," he said. "No imprisonment. No exile."
The room shifted like the air had been sucked from it.
"But there will be consequences."
Ace inclined his head slightly. "Naturally."
The Emperor leaned back, fingers drumming on the throne arm.
"You will attend the Imperial Academy as originally intended. There, you will be monitored — by imperial eyes, not your own."
Ace smirked faintly. "A gilded cage is still a cage. I'll make do."
"And if you defy the law again," Aurelius said, voice suddenly cold, "I will have no choice but to treat you like a traitor."
Ace's silver eyes met his blue without blinking.
"Then I suggest you pray I remain loyal."
Lucy stood behind Ace, just a little to his right, flanked by silent warriors and glowing sages. They were like statues, eyes forward, unmoving. But she wasn't like them.
She felt everything.
The weight of every gaze in the room. The hush of hundreds of nobles. The presence of the Emperor, seated on that magnificent sun-drenched throne.
And her brother…
He stood there like he owned the room.
Not bowed.
Not trembling.
Not even blinking.
When the Emperor's voice echoed through the hall, deep and golden, Lucy felt her legs tense.
"You executed my daughter."
Even then, Ace's voice came back without a pause. Calm. Flat. Perfectly still.
"She broke the law."
Lucy's breath caught.
She remembered that woman. Cold eyes. Words like blades. She'd towered over Lucy in the manor — never once calling her by name.
And Ace… had killed her. Not in secret. Not out of rage. By law.
Even the Emperor, ruler of the empire, sat forward as if unsure what would happen next.
But Ace didn't waver. Not for a moment.
"The blood she spilled was Thornevale."
Lucy's fingers curled tightly in her sleeves.
He isn't afraid. Not even of the Emperor…
From her place behind him, she could see nobles shifting in their seats. Some fumed. Others whispered. A few stared in pure disbelief.
But no one interrupted him.
Even when the Emperor threatened him, called him a potential traitor — Ace stood there like it was nothing.
"Then I suggest you pray I remain loyal."
The words echoed like thunder under marble.
Lucy felt it — that ripple, like a spell cast without chant. Everyone in the room had just seen something. Not just a boy.
A force.
She wasn't sure if her legs were shaking — or her heart.
And yet…
Somewhere inside her, past the fear, past the awe… she smiled.
Because this man who stood tall before the Emperor, who defied nobles and silenced generals — this was the same man who'd once told her,
"We do not bow. Not even to kings."
And now here he was, proving it in front of them all.
"Your Majesty," spoke a high-ranking noble — Duke Granhelm of House Vaecia.
He stood confidently, hands folded behind his back, his voice calm and sharp.
"This boy has insulted your command, broken palace protocol, and executed a member of the imperial family without trial. If you let this go unanswered, the people will question your rule."
A murmur spread.
Another noble — Count Elric Marvens, whispered with a smile, "If House Thornevale is unmanageable, perhaps a reduction in land and military rights would… restore balance."
"Arrest him now."
"Summon his father to explain himself."
"Use the imperial seal—he will have no choice but to submit."
Their words were not shouted. They were whispered into the Emperor's ears, wrapped in silk and poison.
And for a moment, Aurelius Solarian seemed to consider.
The tension became suffocating.
Then—clap.
A slow, steady clapping echoed through the chamber.
From a corner where lesser-ranked nobles and family representatives stood, a hooded figure emerged.
"Such brave words," the man said, voice deep and cool, "spoken from the safety provided by us."
Gasps broke across the hall.
As the hood fell, the room seemed to darken.
There he stood — tall, broad-shouldered, white-haired with chilling silver eyes that mirrored Ace's own.
Duke Alaric Thornevale.
The Iron Wolf of the South, a supreme-master rank swordsman.
Veteran of two border wars. Slayer of demons. Unbent, unbowed, unbroken.
"Your Majesty," he said, ignoring the rest, "You may call for my son's head — but understand, if you do so, I will not march. I will not write. I will not kneel."
He took one step forward.
"I will burn the roads from my land to the capital… and remind the Empire what your borders look like without me."
Silence fell even the sound of the banners fluttering above stopped.
Emperor Aurelius's eyes sharpened. "Is that a threat, Duke Thornevale?"
Duke Alaric smiled thinly.
"No, Your Majesty. A reminder."
After saying the Thornevales all simply walked out of the hall.
The golden doors of the Solar Hall groaned closed behind them.
Ace Thornevale, his father Alaric, and their elite escort of Master-ranked warriors and Supreme Sages walked in perfect formation, down the vast marble staircase of the Imperial Palace.
They did not wait for dismissal.
They did not bow.
They simply turned and left.
As they passed beneath the radiant sun-banner of the Solarian Empire, nobles still inside the throne hall whispered in confusion, outrage… and fear.
"He just walked out?"
"Not even a farewell?"
"That's House Thornevale for you…"
The silence they left behind was more deafening than any shouted rebellion.
Inside the Carriage — En Route from the Capital
Ace, Duke Alaric, and Lucy sat in velvet-padded seats. Outside, their army of escorts rode like shadows.
Lucy kept her eyes down. She was still shaking slightly, though she didn't understand why.
Across from her, Ace lounged in thought, fingers drumming lightly against the carriage wall.
Duke Alaric broke the silence.
"You didn't have to escalate it that far."
Ace didn't look at him. "They were already preparing to remove us. If not by chains, then by ink and rumor."
Alaric's gaze narrowed slightly.
Ace continued, voice calm, cold.
"They are ready to tarnish our name. Label us as corrupt and linked with demons and I don't like dying slowly, Father."
He leaned back with a slight smirk.
"I'd rather go down like with my teeth bared."
Ace remembers in the novel, they accused Thornevales and tarnished the name as history's darkest family.
Alaric was silent for a long moment.
Then he gave a short, quiet chuckle.
"I never doubted you were mine," he said. "But today, you sounded like my father."
Lucy looked between the two of them — still unable to speak, still unsure what to feel.
There was pride in her chest. Fear too. And something else… reverence?
She was seeing not just her brother — but the man who made the court bow by standing taller than them all.
A Moment Later
Duke Alaric straightened and tapped the wood beside him twice. The carriage slowed.
"I'll take the eastern route. There are border matters to handle."
He looked to Ace as he stood.
"You did well. You shook the Empire without unsheathing a blade. But remember… you still walk a sword's edge."
Ace nodded once.
Alaric looked to Lucy last, gave her a brief, unreadable glance… then exited.
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
Couple of days later — Back at the Thornevale Manor
The journey had been long, but Ace stepped out of the carriage like he'd never left.
The servants lined up. The butler bowed deeply. The soldiers saluted.
Lucy followed behind, dazed.
The sky above the southern mountains was darkening into dusk — clouds gathering above the cliffs, wind rushing through the ancestral walls of the Thornevales.
And within those walls, one thing was certain:
Ace Thornevale had returned.
And the Empire would remember it.
Ace's room at night.
The room was silent, save for the occasional whistle of wind brushing against the high stone windows.
Ace lay in his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, though he wasn't looking at anything.
He wasn't asleep.
Sleep had been distant since their return from the capital.
His thoughts churned — cold, clear, endless.
He remembered the Hero's Sword — the famed relic in the novel.
It was said to imprint the moves of its past wielders into the current bearer. Their techniques, instincts, even their battle rhythm — all would seep into the hero's body over time.
That's how the hero rose so quickly. Not only just because of divine favor — but because the past held his hand.
"And yet," Ace thought, "he still took a year to defeat Ace in the book."
He closed his eyes, recalling a different weapon — one far more obscure.
A hidden sword that the hero gave to lucy as she became one of his harem member.
Ace smiled faintly.
"I'll find it. Not now. But soon."
"My strength isn't enough to wield that sword properly. I need to get stronger... and quickly."
The Next Day – Before Sunrise
The first to wake that morning were the guards.
One by one, they noticed something strange from the windows — sparks flying in the back training courtyard.
By the time the sun rose, the sound of metal clashing against weighted dummies echoed through the manor.
Ace Thornevale was already drenched in sweat.
His body moved with terrifying purpose — swings clean, footwork precise, flow sharp. His form wasn't flawless, but each mistake was cut in half the next repetition. He didn't just train.
He devoured his training.
Days Turn to Weeks
Word spread quickly.
At first, servants whispered. Then knights watched in silence. Even a few Masters observed from rooftops, exchanging glances.
"He's growing too fast."
"His breathing technique's evolving daily."
"He broke the reinforced dummy yesterday. With a wooden sword."
Growth like this was unnatural. Too fast. Too sharp. Too… controlled.
Unbeknown to them, the rapid growth rate was the effect of the potion, Ace wants to increase his strength as much as possible before the entrance ceremony.
His pride won't let him be defeated by the hero, so he wants to reach a level from where the hero is comparable to an ant.
A level where the hero and his harem can't even dream of achieving in their lifetime.
Even lucy has started train vigorously after watching Ace.