Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day-Chapter 384: Blithe Request [III]

I... had no idea how to respond to that.

Thalia was prophesied to die?

Were there routes in the game where she died before the fall of the Theosbane family? I couldn’t recall.

Hey, in my not-so-great defense, I’d always found her character annoying. I didn’t play Juliana’s routes much, and whenever I did, my only goal was killing Arthur as quickly as possible.

In some paths, I had to go through Thalia to get to her father, but I usually just avoided her.

She was never a fixture in the Academy setting either, so I had little idea what became of her after the Massacre of Night Sanctuary arc.

But what I do know is that an event similar to what my father was describing did happen in the game.

The Ducal houses of Theosbane and Wayforge did fight a bloody war. The objective of their war, however, was kept secret.

And more shockingly... the Theosbanes lost that war.

The reason for that was the location where the war happened: Earth.

You see, on our home planet, the Monarchs had enforced strict laws forbidding any [SS-Rank] or higher Awakened from engaging in all-out assault.

They could do whatever they wanted in the Spirit Realm, but on Earth, they were restricted to act in their full capacity.

As such, wars between noble families were fought amongst foot soldiers, generals, and heirs — proxies instead of true monsters who could wipe a battlefield clean with their Spiritual Pressure alone.

After all, the last time a clash of that scale went down on Earth, an entire county was reduced to ash with millions of people left burning to their deaths.

That was the Battle of Eden Fall, the day the Blade family was executed.

So, the Theosbanes didn’t lose to the Wayforge family because they were weak.

They lost because their greatest weapons were barred from the field. Their strength was shackled.

Or at least, that’s what I could guess. They never showed that war on screen.

Regardless, they did lose.

And that was in the game, where they only had to focus on one major conflict. Whereas in this reality, my family was going for a two-front war.

But still, I couldn’t shake my mind off Thalia’s supposed prophecy.

"How do you even know that?" I asked, and immediately cringed.

It was a stupid question.

The West hadn’t seen a true soothsayer in generations, at least before the awakening of Lily Elderwing. Yet, it was not to say we didn’t have any soothsayers at all.

We did.

Their predictions just weren’t always... accurate.

The average ratio of true-to-false prophecies was forty-to-sixty.

So forty percent.

Using that benchmark, the certainty of Thalia dying was only forty percent. Which was a lot less than what I had when a soothsayer last predicted my death...

But hey, I’m not comparing! So what if I survived a fallen god and my father had yet to acknowledge that feat?

It’s not like I wanted his recognition anymore!

Shut up!

I waved my hand... my only hand. "Forget that. Does Thalia know?"

The Lord of the Golden Sanctuary didn’t need to answer. The look that stole over his face told me everything I needed to know.

Of course he hadn’t told her.

Thalia would never back down in the face of a silly prophecy. However much I disliked my elder twin, I wasn’t above admitting her admirable traits.

Bravery — or foolishness — was one of them.

The constant need to prove herself was another.

Which brought me to my next problem.

I groaned. "Even if I agree to this shameless request of yours, how do you expect me to handle her? She’s obviously going to object."

"You needn’t concern yourself with that," he replied dismissively. "It has come to my attention that the two of you agreed to compete in a Mock War for the Ace title. Participate in that and prevail. I will use your victory as an excuse to send you in her stead."

I laughed a bitter laugh and didn’t bother holding back the venom from pouring over into my tone. "You have some nerve, Father."

He regarded me with an eyebrow raised. Then, "What?"

"Let me put it in a way you’ll understand," I spat, taking one step closer. "Why the fuck would I ever help you, or this family, after how I was treated here? After what you did to me?!"

Won’t lie, I expected him to slap me.

I expected him to force my defiant eyes downward, to break my neck so I’d lower my head, or to at least make me kneel for the blatant lèse-majesté I’d committed by speaking out of turn.

But nothing of the sort happened.

Instead, he countered me calmly, as though we were engaged in a philosophical discussion rather than... whatever this was. An argument? No, an argument only happens among equals.

This was an imposition of will. We were just deciding whose will would break first, mine or his. The answer should’ve been obvious from the start.

If my father had decided that I would go to a war, there wasn’t much I could’ve done.

Yet my pride forbade me from giving up without even trying to resist.

"You mean what you did to yourself?" he corrected me.

My jaw practically hit the gravel. "What?!"

The Golden Duke took a deep breath, turning his head to gaze at the surrounding flowers for a few seconds before returning his full attention to me.

"Do you know how the pharaohs ruled in ancient Egypt?" he asked.

I had no response— no response that I felt was correct, so I settled for a scowl.

"With divine authority," he answered himself in the very next breath. "They ruled with divine authority. They were considered the intermediaries between gods and humans, and so, they held supreme power."

My scowl only deepened with every word he spoke. "Is this impromptu lesson leading somewhere, or—"

"And that’s just one case," he cut me off. "Throughout history, monarchs and kings have wielded absolute authority — not just because they could, but because they were expected to. The people beneath them had to fear the consequences of questioning that power. They didn’t argue. They obeyed. And because they obeyed, they survived. Rulers who failed to understand this often perished... quietly, or violently."

I opened my mouth to retort, but his eyes held me in place like a physical weight against my shoulders.

"In today’s world, democracy does not exist. Above the title of Duke are the Monarchs. But my power is still my own. It was not gifted to me by a Monarch. In fact, I would argue that I am the one lending the Monarch above me my power."

Again, I stayed silent as he went on.

"As such, it has become vital for us to represent ourselves with even more authority than those rulers of the ancient past. We must show everyone beneath us why we are above them... why we are closer to deities than we are to men. That is exactly why the Monarchs are considered modern-day gods. That is exactly why Dukes like myself or Raygun Wayforge must act as immovable monoliths."

I was still silent, but now that silence was there because I understood exactly where this speech was going. "Let me guess? You’re going to say I was not born as some ordinary boy. The responsibility to conduct myself in accordance with my family name falls on me... and I failed that responsibility?"

"You did," my father nodded just once. "I continued to ignore your minor misdemeanors, but I could not have ignored you being beaten by a newly awakened peasant. A peasant! One of those lowly worms we rule over! Do you even understand the weight of that, boy? The moment you bleed at the hands of one of them, they stop fearing you. They realize you are just another human... and that, like them, you can be brought down. You stop being absolute and they stop being obedient. So at that point, I had the option to either banish you or defy Monarchical law of not harming a Cadet candidate by having that commoner boy and his entire bloodline wiped out in your name, simply to make up for your failure."

I clenched my fist until I felt the sting of my nails sinking into my palm, my knuckles porcelain under the pressure.

Yeah, I knew he wasn’t wrong.

But so what?!

That didn’t make me any less angry.

"Is that really how you justify a duel with your own child?!" I shouted, more emotions boiling into my voice than I could keep count. I stared dead into my father’s golden eyes — eyes that reminded me so much of my own. "Is that how you justify beating me to within an inch of my life?! I used to look up to you! You were my hero! I used to beg for even a scrap of your attention, and that is how you treated me? Tell me honestly, did you ever even love me, or did you just hate me for Mother’s passing?!"

I didn’t know why I asked it.

I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

My father averted his gaze... and the motion broke something in my chest.

It is one thing to know you lack a parent’s affection, but it is another thing entirely to be reminded of it by the said parent himself.

I fought to keep my eyes from watering, even as a lump rose in my throat. "During our Rite of Valor, you said it was a mercy that my mother wasn’t here to witness what a disappointment I’d become. But I think it’s a much greater mercy for her that she doesn’t have to see whatever you have become."

The man flinched.

My father, the Golden Duke, the Dawn’s Scourge himself, actually flinched at my words.

Good.

I wanted him to feel every bit of the bitterness that had been festering in my heart all these years.

"And now, instead of apologizing, instead of rejoicing the return of your son from a perilous journey, or even just leaving me in peace, you’re brazenly asking me to be your proxy in a war alongside my brother?" I laughed out loud, as if I’d just heard the world’s funniest joke. "Fuck off! Just fuck right off with—"

"Sorry."

I stopped mid-rant.

...What?

D-Did he just—

"I’m sorry," he repeated. "I know I didn’t treat you right. I will perhaps regret that until the end of my days, however close they may be. You can choose to believe that or not. But I really am... sorry."

The wrenching pain in my chest and the rising lump in my throat both went still. I had imagined this scenario many times — my father finally apologizing to me for years of neglect.

But in those daydreams, I always felt smug and triumphant.

I wasn’t feeling any of that now.

I was just... numb and... hollow.

I knew he wasn’t the type of man to just say things. If he was apologizing, he must’ve meant it.

But my mind immediately jumped to the subtext.

Because my father was also not the type of man to admit fault, since admitting fault meant admitting he could make mistakes — a human quality that he pretended to be above.

So... what exactly was so important that he was willing to trade a sliver of his pride for my cooperation?

My heart thumped as I searched his face for some clue, some tell. But there was nothing except a firm, immovable resolution.

"I am sending you, and you will go," he continued with final certainty. "Because this is bigger than you and me. Bigger than personal grudges and bigger than our pride. You don’t understand it now, but you will. Go to Iron Height and bring me that relic... or else."

I blinked. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to lash out, to scream that he had no right to demand anything of me, let alone make threats.

But the words stuck in my throat.

My curiosity, the curse of any good storyteller, won out. "What is the relic, exactly?"

"I cannot tell you," was his only answer.

"Then I’m not going," I bluffed, crossing my arm.

My father simply shook his head. "That is up to you. But if you don’t... I will execute your Shadow."

I blinked again, and this time, I was angry. "Really? On what basis?"

He looked at me with an exasperated expression, like he wanted to say I was fooling no one. "You are her master. You should know she is planning to rebel against us. I have no idea how she intends to achieve her goals, but if I scrutinize her business, I know I can definitely find at least one reason to behead her for treason. Or perhaps I won’t find one and I’ll kill her anyway. Who will stop me?"

...Gods.

Every time I faced him, I was reminded of how much I hated this guy.

Gnashing my teeth, I shrugged in an attempt at one last bluff. "And what makes you think I care enough about that girl to go to a fucking war?"

He gave me that same look again — pitying, almost — before turning away. This time, he didn’t gesture for me to follow.

"Think my offer over," he called over his shoulder. "Win the Mock War against your sister. Or don’t."

He walked on, his long strides eating up the marble footpath, leaving me standing there like a fool while my thoughts collided in chaos.

Just before he receded out of view, I found my voice again. "Where are my friends?!"

"Where else?" he replied, rounding the corner to vanish out of view. "In the guest mansion, resting after recounting everything that happened on your journey."

...Wow.

So he’d just let me think he had them locked up in a dungeon or something? He’d let me stew in that fear just to see how I’d react?

I really... really hated that guy.