Modret's face was terrifyingly dark as he finished hearing everything from Dora.
'So this is what the system was warning me about and why it said it is already too late?' He felt the urge to curse at the system.
'If only it had given me the warning a few days earlier. None of this would have happened!' Modret was furious. He glared at no one in particular and stood up.
'Hopefully nothing's happened to him and I can still resolve this,' Modret muttered silently in his heart.
Shoving the tickets into his pockets, he increased his speed, using all his abilities, and vanished from Dora's line of sight.
The little girl stood stupefied, staring at the location where the young master had vanished, unable to believe her eyes.
She clutched her hands together and prayed silently that everything would work out fine. However, her brows furrowed, and a deep unease crept into her heart.
…
Modret rushed through the streets, heading in the direction of the execution ground. Thankfully, he had heard about this place from his father over the years.
He passed a few pedestrians along the way, his heart pounding violently in his chest. His senses, sharpened by his abilities, were tingling, and a faint premonition gnawed at his thoughts. Something was going wrong.
There was no time to think about it. He had to save Axel first, then resolve the crisis. He continued on, racing past shadowed alleyways until the grim structure of the execution ground came into view.
Without hesitation, he kicked open the towering wooden door in front of him. At the sheer force of his strike, it swung open with a resounding bang that echoed across the area.
Modret stepped inside. His gaze immediately scanned the surroundings, sharp and searching, filled with urgency and unease.
Suddenly, his expression froze. His entire body went still, and his face twisted into one of disbelief and horror.
Just a few meters ahead, Axel stood—or rather, what remained of him did. His dull, jewel-like eyes locked on Modret, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. A sword lay nearby on the ground.
The upper half of his body had been severed from the lower half.
Modret stood stunned, horror gripping his chest. Time seemed to slow around him, and the world turned distant and cold as he quietly approached Axel's broken body.
Despite the wound, Axel was still alive. He looked at Modret with deep respect, his gaze unwavering.
His eyes remained fixed on the door, as if he had been expecting Modret to arrive.
But it was too late.
Modret dropped to his knees, helpless. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as a crushing weight settled over his heart.
Axel gasped lightly and opened his mouth. His voice trembled faintly.
"Young master… I… am truly grateful to you for everything."
He took another breath and continued.
"It happened more than eleven years ago. My sister was sick… almost dying. But… young master… you chose to save her. You gave her a few pastries… and some medicine."
This was something Axel had carried in his heart for years, never telling anyone. At the time, his father had gone deep into the forest to hunt, unaware that Axel's sister had become gravely ill.
Terrified that she might die, the four-year-old Axel had ventured into the forest alone, hoping to find herbs or catch some game.
But he wasn't strong enough. He couldn't identify the right herbs or hunt anything.
On his way back, tears staining his cheeks, he saw the young master gently wiping his sister's face with a cloth. Nearby, a small stack of snacks sat beside her. Axel hid in a corner, watching quietly as tears flowed down his face.
"From that moment," Axel said softly, "I promised myself I would protect you… young master… I… still… failed."
Modret's mind drifted to the past. He remembered a young boy who, ten years ago, stood in front of him during a dangerous encounter. Now, the reason behind Axel's unwavering loyalty was finally clear.
Axel had made his decision long ago. Despite having no ability, he had trained hard, pushing his limits every day, just to impress Modret. Just to protect him.
Modret could almost see the younger Axel again—his light features filled with determination, silently vowing to devote himself.
His chest tightened.
"You didn't fail. You protected me… even now," Modret said. His voice was just loud enough for Axel to hear.
Around him, Modret's uncles and aunts stood in silence, their eyes on him. Ronald's face was filled with complicated emotions. He stood still, thinking deeply.
Why had he allowed this to happen? Why had he made those choices?
Something felt wrong. It was as if… for a long time… he had not been fully in control of himself.
He turned and looked at Modret, trying to understand the strange emotion rising within him.
"Young master…" Axel whispered again, smiling faintly.
The smile was calm and respectful.
"I'm at the end of my life now. Please… live on for me. Even in death, I'll remain by your side. I'll become a ghost, always watching from the shadows… protecting you."
With those words, Axel looked at Modret with expectant eyes. He was waiting for a response. Waiting for permission to let go.
Modret met his gaze. After a brief moment, he reached out, sensing that Axel's body was quickly growing cold. He gave his promise, then looked at him in silence.
Axel released a faint breath.
"I'm… relieved."
And with that, he took his last breath.
Modret remained still, his hand trembling slightly. He stared at Axel's body, unable to accept that the one who had served and protected him for over ten years was truly gone.
This was his first time losing someone dear to him.
And it hurt more than he had imagined.
He stayed in place, unmoving, for several minutes.
No one spoke. The entire area was silent, as though the very air respected the moment.
Then, a cold, venomous voice cut through the stillness.
"Why are you mourning over him? He was just a… servant!" she said, chuckling deliberately at the last word.
At her words, Modret's emotions erupted violently.
The words echoed in his mind.
He is just a servant…
He is just a… servant?
At that moment, Modret's bloodline awakened once more after years of silence.
It was as though something ancient, something buried deep, had been stirred awake.
The skies outside began to dim. Golden scales surfaced slowly across Modret's skin, their sheen faint but unmistakable.
He let out a deep roar. It resonated across the manor, shaking the walls and reaching the hearts of everyone present.
Because of that roar, the A-grade enchantment that had been applied on a wide scale across the Axarel Manor weakened.
Several stronger experts, previously entranced, suddenly woke from their daze.
Modret turned, his gaze sharp and full of fury. His eyes locked onto Jarvis—the one who had spoken.
'This woman who had been constantly trying to kill him for a long time… he would take her head today!'