The vast training hall loomed beneath a ceiling of carved stone, its air heavy with the scent of polished wood and cold steel. The torches burned low, their flames bending in uneasy silence as King Daymond entered with measured steps. His presence filled the room—majestic and suffocating all at once. Beside him glided his queen, serene and pale, followed by his six concubines whose jeweled robes whispered against the floor like faint echoes of power.
At a signal from the king, the attendants, referees, and all the children were ushered out. The heavy bronze doors closed with a resounding clang that swallowed every other sound. The hall grew still. Only the four dukes, Robert's two wives, Ray, and Prince Lucas remained beneath the dim, wavering light.
King Daymond's gaze swept across the chamber before finally settling on the young boy who stood unflinching at its center. "Tell me what has happened," he commanded. His voice was calm—but it was the calm before thunder.
The three other dukes froze. They had expected the question to fall upon Duke Leonardo, the eldest among them, or perhaps one of the neutral nobles. But instead—the king had turned to a child. Murmurs of disbelief rippled silently across their faces. Why would His Majesty give such respect to one so young?
Ray nodded slightly. The flickering light caught the faint glint in his eyes—a gleam far older than his years. His voice, when it came, was steady but carried an edge sharp enough to cut through armor.
He spoke of how an innocent children's competition had turned into treachery: how Prince Lucas, under the guise of protection, had used a stolen weapon from the Inventor's Guild to try to kill him; how Duke Leonardo, instead of seeking truth, had charged at him with murderous intent.
Each word fell like the toll of a bell in the silent hall.
Lucas's face reddened, his fists clenching at his sides. But when he tried to speak, his mother's fingers gripped his wrist—a silent plea for restraint.
Ray's tone darkened. "I am just a child," he said softly, though his gaze was anything but gentle. "But that duke, two generations my elder, chose to attack me in a children's match. I am certain he is a spy of Jack—someone who wants to erase every genius in the Richard Kingdom. He saw I won against the young genius prince and the others."
Duke Leonardo's breath caught. His face turned ashen, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The accusation struck him like a lightning bolt. A spy—he called me a spy? In a heartbeat, the narrative he had tried to control flipped against him. Now, he stood as the traitor, and the boy—the victim turned accuser—held all the cards.
"Lies!" Leonardo shouted, his voice cracking beneath the weight of fear. "I tried to protect the kingdom from you!"
Ray's eyes narrowed, the faintest tremor of anger running through him. With his boots resonating on the stone, he took a step forward. "So you went for violence instead of talking things out," he snapped. "What do you think happens next now that I'm alive? What do you think I'll want in return? What do you think I'll do to your Montclair family?"
"I—" Leonardo stammered, his throat tight. Words deserted him. He knew the truth: there was no defense for what he had done. The only thing awaiting him now was judgment. His mind raced—Could he protect his family? Could he face the wrath of this boy… and his mother?
His eyes flicked to Diana. The mere thought of her title—The Chaos of Storms—sent a chill down his spine.
Ray's voice cut through his panic like the edge of a cold blade. "No apology is going to help you. You will reap what you sow. If I can witness war between kingdoms, what do you think the destruction of a mere dukedom means to me?"
The words were quiet, but the fury behind them was volcanic. Even the torches seemed to shrink, their flames bowing to the tension.
Leonardo's legs trembled. His only refuge left was the throne. He turned to the king and fell to his knees. "Your Highness," he gasped, "I have sinned. Please… I beg of you, help me."
King Daymond's expression darkened. For a long moment, he said nothing—only studied the boy before him. The bright, laughing child he had once seen had vanished, replaced by something else—something dangerous, sharp, and commanding. He could see the fury in Ray's eyes, but also the deep wound beneath it.
Still, Leonardo had been a loyal vassal, a man who had fought for the crown and brought honor through service. To lose such a man to internal conflict was… bitter.
Daymond inhaled slowly, memories rising unbidden. The words of Alfred, the old caretaker, echoed in his mind: "Six out of ten times, the kingdom will be destroyed because of Daymond—and the one who brings that end will be Ray."
The prophecy made his chest tighten.
Finally, he exhaled and met Ray's gaze. "Ray," he said quietly, "what do you want for Duke Leonardo's wrongdoing? What would make you back off?"
The boy tilted his head, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. "Imprisonment for life? Death? Slave?"
The king stiffened, unsure whether he was jesting. Before he could answer, his third concubine, Alicia, stepped forward. A faint smile danced on her lips, soft but knowing. "Rejected!" she said playfully, her tone carrying a strange warmth that broke through the oppressive silence.
Daymond exhaled, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. For a terrifying heartbeat, he had believed Ray was serious. But Alicia's intervention softened the air around them, restoring a fragile balance.
Then the queen, Elizabeth, stepped forward, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Ray," she pleaded, her voice trembling, "I ask of you… Please give a lenient punishment to my father."
Her desperation filled the hall with a sorrow that even the king did not interrupt.
Ray's gaze met hers, and though his expression didn't soften, his voice lowered a notch. "You are correct, but you are forgetting something—your son has also done a terrible thing. The tragedy all began because of him."
Elizabeth's tears spilled freely. Seeing the queen break, Alicia sighed, her voice gentle yet firm. "Ray," she said, "I know Duke Leonardo has wronged you, but he is still a duke. If his conduct becomes public, it will stain the crown's reputation. Please—show restraint. Something within limits."
Ray studied her quietly, the fire in his eyes dimming to embers. "Since I respect you, Your Highness," he said at last, "I will give you face. I want a contract paper, which he will sign—stating he cannot harm me in any way. Second, he must give me his second-best crystal mine. Third, the Montclair family shall pay twenty percent above market price whenever they purchase network access each month."
Then he turned, fixing Lucas with a look that pierced deeper than any blade. "As for Lucas, I am permanently banning you from using wristwatch technology. Even if you try, it will not work."
The prince's face remained calm, even smug. He thought the punishment trivial. Ray only smiled faintly—knowing that one day, Lucas would understand what he had truly lost.
Queen Elizabeth paled. She saw the meaning her son didn't, and though she said nothing, her heart whispered a silent vow to find a way to undo the ban.
Leonardo signed the parchment with trembling hands, his signature jagged and bitter. Each stroke was a wound to his pride. Queen Elizabeth made sure he finished, her tears falling silently onto the table beside him.
When all was done, King Daymond rose. "We are finished here," he said quietly. He turned, his robes whispering like a sigh of wind through silk, and departed with his wives and son. Their footsteps faded down the corridor until the great bronze doors closed again.
The silence that followed was heavy, almost sacred.
Ray stood still for a long moment, letting the anger fade from his chest until only resolve remained. His parents—Robert, Diana, and Selene—approached, their faces filled with pride and quiet admiration.
He had not just won a confrontation. He had set a precedent.
Ray's mind, already calm, turned to what came next: preparations at the Inventor's Guild, his cultivation, and finally, the academy where destiny awaited him.