"How dare you bully me, I, Arthur, the only son of the Pendragon family?"
The golden rays of sunlight streamed through the clouds, casting a warm glow on a youth who seemed to be around sixteen.
His chin was lifted high, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips, the kind that dared anyone to challenge him.
The light reflected off his bald head, causing the other youths not too far away to squint their eyes.
The youth's name was Arthur Pendragon.
He glared fiercely at another young man with dark brown hair, his eyes filled with anger.
He couldn't stand the way the boy looked at him — as if he was less than royal.
Yet behind the fury, a flicker of irritation—almost fear—passed through his eyes before vanishing.
There was a light bruise on the youth's face, and even though he had been slapped by Arthur, he didn't dare retaliate.
He lowered his head as though afraid of something.
The courtyard fell silent except for the rustle of leaves and the faint tremor in the boy's breath.
After a few seconds, his low voice echoed in the air.
"I–I am sorry, Master…"
There were roughly five youths in the surroundings, watching the unfolding situation with pity.
Arthur shrugged, then said in a cold tone filled with disgust, "Get out of my sight!"
The youth bowed once more before quickly rushing out of Arthur's sight.
At that moment, a guard swiftly approached the source of the commotion.
Bowing politely toward Arthur, he spoke, "Young Master, the King has ordered for you to meet him and the other officials in the meeting room."
Arthur rubbed his bald head in annoyance.
'Tch, he better not lecture me again about "responsibility." I've heard enough of that.'
'And, I hope it has nothing to do with my bullying as of late.' Arthur clenched his fist, planning internally to teach them a lesson if that was the case.
Having made this decision, he swiftly departed with the guard, heading in the direction of the meeting room.
As he walked away, the five youths from before couldn't help but huddle behind a stone pillar, voices hushed though their eyes darted nervously toward the departing figure.
"Damn, to think he would dare lay a hand on Brother James. This young master truly needs to be killed!" one of them, a youth with dark brown hair, clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"I heard he wasn't like this before, but after awakening the Calamity Summoner class, he changed—started bullying anyone he disliked."
"Tch, that bastard needs to be taught a lesson. However, with his father's influence, and him being the only son, no one dares lay a hand on him. I recall the last person who did disappeared overnight."
"So that's the reason for his unruly behavior? I better stay out of his sight then…" another youth who looked relatively young spoke up. It was clear he was new to the establishment.
…
Arthur walked briskly with the guard toward the meeting room.
As this wasn't the first time he'd been called there, he didn't feel the slightest bit of nervousness.
'At most, Father will ground me at home for a week…' he thought, already knowing how much his father cared about him.
The corridor stretched endlessly, lined with banners of his family crest. Each step of the guard's boots echoed like a countdown in Arthur's ears.
They soon reached the massive chamber. The guard in front stepped forward and knocked on the door.
Soon, a voice from within ordered them to come in.
The door swung open, revealing a group of men and women who looked to be between forty and sixty years of age.
Arthur entered and bowed politely toward the head seat not too far away, where a middle-aged man sat.
"Greetings, Father."
He then turned to the others beside his father, reluctantly showing his respect.
"Greetings, Elders."
Some elders' faces turned ugly upon sensing no hint of politeness or respect in his tone, but recalling what was about to happen, they kept their mouths shut and only stared intently at the King.
The King—a man around forty, with light gray hair streaking through his short black hair—had deep green eyes filled with solemnity and… weariness?
A suffocating silence lingered before his father finally let out a wry sigh, then spoke up.
Arthur straightened, expecting another lecture — perhaps a scolding, maybe even a fine. Anything but what came next.
"Arthur, you have been stuck at the same level for more than three years and are unable to advance. Aside from that, you have repeatedly left a bad impression on the youths of your generation. As the heir of the family, your punishment is to explore an E-rank dungeon alone."
As the King finished speaking, it was as if all the strength had been drawn out of him.
Arthur, with his bald head, widened his eyes in shock.
He was stupefied, to say the least.
He stared at his father as though he had said the most absurd thing ever.
"Father, you know I can't explore an E-rank dungeon! Moreover, I can't explore it alone—that's simply a death sentence!"
Uthur Pendragon kept silent, despite knowing the truth. He sighed once more and turned to the guards not too far away.
"Guards, take him to the E-rank dungeon. When he returns alive, bring him back to me."
The King's meaning was clear. After some time had passed, they were to scour the dungeon and bring back Arthur's dead body.
Arthur was dumbfounded. He searched his father's eyes, praying to find some trace of kindness — but saw only the weight of duty.
He tried to pinch himself but only felt the stinging pain.
Then, his gaze shifted as the guards hoisted him up on their shoulders and carried him toward the E-rank dungeon.
Even as Arthur flailed his hands about in a panicked struggle, none of them paid him any heed.
The clang of armor drowned out his pleas, and the marble floor blurred beneath him as he was dragged away.
In his eyes, he could see a few elders with gloating expressions. Some had solemn looks on their faces, while others seemed relieved.
As Arthur was "escorted" to the dungeon, the elders turned back to the King, and the silence broke like a cracked mirror—murmurs spreading among the elders.
A lady in her mid-thirties spoke up with a smile. "Your Highness, you did the right thing. The longer your son lived, the more he would disgrace the name of the Pendragon family."
"Indeed," another elderly man interjected, "this is a decision you should have made since his awakening. How can there be a summoner among warriors? Moreover, he's a variant summoner without potential—a disgrace!"
The King's fingers tightened around the armrest, though his expression remained unreadable.
Another elder, roughly fifty, with full gray hair and a long beard, spoke up. "Your Highness, this is the best decision. For now, all you have to do is focus on producing a new heir."
The others nodded in agreement, though their eyes flickered with a calculating light. No one could tell what they were truly thinking.
…
'No… this can't be real. Father wouldn't—he couldn't do this to me!'
Arthur Pendragon, in despair, was brought before the shimmering blue portal.
Before he could even plead with the guards, he was violently tossed into it.
The world twisted into a swirl of blue and white, and his scream vanished into the void.
…
Author's Note: I am a new author, and this is my first novel. I hope everyone will support me—I've put so much hard work into this. Please enjoy the story of Arthur Pendragon, and support the novel with Power Stones to help boost its visibility on the app. Thank you!