The Imperial Palace glowed with celebration.
The Great War had finally ended, and the banquet hall overflowed with nobles, generals, and envoys of every race.
At the center of the hall stood a man in his early forties:
broad-shouldered, scarred, sharp-eyed.
Daka Grave de Aurores.
Born the third son of a small Baron household.
A son so unremarkable that his own father once said:
> "Sending Daka is less painful than sending a valuable child."
That was twenty-five years ago.
Now that same "weak third son" stood ready to receive the Empire's highest title.
The Emperor placed a silver crest upon his shoulder.
"I declare you—Grand Duke of the East."
Thunderous applause followed.
But Daka only exhaled quietly, as if this title weighed no more than a dry leaf compared to the wars he had lived through.
He turned to leave the platform—
—and immediately heard someone clap slow and loud on purpose.
"Bravo, Daka. Truly inspiring. From 'the disposable son' to Grand Duke."
Daka's eyebrow twitched.
There stood Grand Duke Silverwind, grinning.
"Your family must be regretting every decision now," Silverwind added cheerfully.
Daka grunted, "You came just to mock me, didn't you?"
Silverwind smirked.
"A once-in-a-lifetime chance to bully the man who bullied us for years? Absolutely."
Before Daka could retort, a cold voice cut in:
"Hm. The third son of Baron Aurores becoming Grand Duke… this will be a historical joke for centuries."
Daka turned to see Grand Duke Iceblade adjusting his cloak, expression emotionless.
"You're enjoying this," Daka said flatly.
"I am observing karma," Iceblade replied.
Then the hall's temperature seemed to dip slightly as a presence approached behind him—
soft footsteps, chilling aura, a faint jingle of bone ornaments.
Grand Duchess Venomous appeared, veil fluttering, eyes glinting with wicked amusement.
"Oh my," she said. "To think the little, weak Baron son who was 'sent to die' is now above all the dukes' children."
Silverwind burst out laughing.
"Right! Remember? When the war began, everyone expected him to die within a month!"
Iceblade nodded seriously,
"Rumors said he fainted during his first training."
Daka clicked his tongue.
"It was heatstroke. And it was summer."
Venomous giggled behind her fan.
"You were adorable back then."
Daka groaned, "For once, can we skip this?"
"No," all three said together.
Silverwind slapped him on the back—hard enough to shake the nearby table.
"Face it, Daka. You survived everything, outgrew your bloodline, and rose higher than any of us expected."
Iceblade added,
"You became the Empire's shield. A man who defeated armies alone. But we will never let you forget your origin."
Venomous leaned close and whispered teasingly:
"Congratulations… my dear third son."
Daka stared at all three of them.
Expression dead.
Soul leaving body.
Then he muttered the only words appropriate for this moment:
"I hate all of you."
Silverwind threw an arm around him.
"Too late! We're old friends now!"
Venomous smiled,
"And fellow Grand Dukes."
Iceblade nodded.
"Your suffering has just begun."
As the four strongest figures in the Empire stood together, the nobles watched with fear.
Because wherever these four gathered—
chaos followed.
And tonight marked the beginning of a new era…
not of peace—
but of absurdity only possible when four monsters who survived war refuse to grow up.