And That's Final

The entire process happened too quickly—so quickly that the guards had only just placed their hands on the hilts of their swords.

The imperial majesty on Julian's face was now completely gone, replaced by sheer horror.

He scrambled backward almost on all fours, his magnificent dark gold robe dragging along the floor in a pathetic display.

Duke Windsor's slender body was even more agile; he dove straight under a wide, solid wood table.

Duke Natt's obese body proved to be a liability. He stumbled and fell to the floor, ignoring the pain as he scrambled and crawled toward a corner of the room.

Duke Mindrow's reaction was a beat slower, and he was only saved from brushing against the vines when his guard behind him gave him a violent tug.

Only then did the panic-stricken guards snap out of it. They quickly rushed forward to form a human wall, separating their masters from the five tightly bound impostors.

The drawing room was in utter chaos. Heavy breathing and the scraping of armor blended together, raising the tension in the room to its absolute limit.

Duke Leo sat in the host's seat, not having budged from start to finish.

He merely squinted slightly, watching the impostors subdued by the vines before him, his face completely devoid of expression.

Standing behind him, Colin stared at the wildly struggling vines, his eyes filled with excitement. However, remembering where he was, he bit his lip hard and forced himself to stand firm.

Old Ford bowed slightly, his graying hair perfectly neat, as if everything happening before his eyes was nothing more than a servant breaking a teacup.

Gal stood where he was, his dark green robe fluttering despite the lack of wind.

His dark brown tentacles shot out completely from beneath his robe, the suction cups at their ends flaring open and closed violently with excitement.

His body trembled uncontrollably, his gaze locked onto the vines that extended from the green plants like living things.

Beneath the shadow of his hood, his cloudy eyes reflected the bound figures who lay entirely defenseless.

This was the power of a Wizard.

This was the power he had dreamed of possessing, the sole obsession that had sustained him through decades of bitter struggle in the tower.

Now, this power was right before his eyes, displayed in such a dominant and effortless manner.

He felt something beating violently inside his chest—an emotion mixed with ecstasy, longing, and endless bitterness that nearly overwhelmed him.

This was the strength of his dreams, a shore so close yet forever out of his reach.

The side door slid open silently.

Ethan walked out from behind the door, his dark blue aristocratic attire tailored perfectly, with the Thorn Crest of House Leo embroidered on his collar.

He walked at a moderate pace, the soles of his boots making rhythmic tapping sounds against the obsidian floor.

Every eye in the drawing room fell upon Ethan at the same time.

Ethan came to a stop before the long table. Completely ignoring the expressions of these so-called powerful and influential figures, he smiled and looked at his father. “See? I told you just talking wouldn't work. They would never believe it. Seeing is believing.”

A dead silence fell over the drawing room.

Everyone's gaze was pinned on Ethan.

Those present felt their brains freeze, unable to process what was happening.

Leo, a youth, supernatural methods, a replaced son...

All this information clashed, leaving their minds in a state of utter confusion.

Just then, Gal took a step forward.

He walked up to Ethan's side, leaning forward slightly with his hood angled toward him.

“Lord Ethan.”

Two words.

His voice was respectful to the absolute limit.

Everyone in the drawing room felt as if they had been struck hard on the back of the head.

They snapped out of it instantly.

Gal.

Master Gal, who had guarded the Thorn Empire's Wizard Tower for decades.

An existence to whom even Julian had to bow first upon meeting.

Now stood before a young man, bowing respectfully and calling him “Lord.”

Which meant...

Didn't that mean...

A single thought flashed through everyone's mind.

A Wizard!

A legendary Wizard!

A Wizard capable of destroying an entire nation single-handedly!

Was right here in this room?!

The drawing room fell silent for a brief moment.

Julian was the first to bend his waist. Duke Windsor followed immediately after, while Duke Natt and Duke Mindrow bowed at the same time. The four of them spoke in unison.

“My Lord.”

Duke Leo and the rest of his household made no movement.

Ethan waved his hand.

“Alright, I don't care for these tedious formalities. I'm going to make an announcement.”

The four of them straightened up.

Julian looked up, his white beard trembling slightly. “Please speak, My Lord.”

“This whole mess was orchestrated by that piece of shit Duke Garce. Therefore, I declare that the entire Garce family is sentenced to death. All of their territory and property will go to my father, Duke Leo. And that's final.”

Julian's fingers clenched tightly inside his sleeves.

Duke Garce's territory spanned three northern counties, accounting for nearly one-fifteenth of the empire's landmass.

The toll taxes from those two trade routes alone amounted to millions of gold coins every year, and the two massive iron mines were the empire's largest weapons production sites.

Just like that, all of it went to House Leo?

In that case, the balance of power within the Thorn Empire would be completely shattered starting today.

The muscles on Duke Windsor's thin face twitched. He instinctively took half a step forward, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

Duke Natt wiped his face with his silk handkerchief and opened his mouth.

Duke Mindrow's hand tightened silently on the back of his chair, the goatee on his chin trembling slightly. He glanced sideways at Julian, then at Duke Windsor.

The gazes of the four men met in midair for a fleeting second.

They all saw the exact same thing in each other's eyes.

It was greed, reluctance, and an instinctual resistance.

Duke Garce's territory was simply too lucrative. It was so lucrative that even with a Wizard standing right in front of them, the string of “profit” in their minds still tightened uncontrollably.

Julian's Adam's apple bobbed.

He was the Emperor of the Thorn Empire, and nominally, the entire empire belonged to him.

Logically speaking, even if Duke Garce's assets were confiscated, they should have been reclaimed by the imperial family.

Now, with a single sentence, Ethan had handed it all to House Leo. How was he supposed to explain this to his ministers?

How was he to explain this to the other high nobles?

He looked up, his gaze landing on Ethan.

Looking at that youthful face, the image of Gal bowing and calling him “Lord Ethan” suddenly flashed through Julian's mind.

He remembered the vines bursting from the green plants and the five bound impostors.

He sighed inwardly.

Duke Windsor lowered his eyelids, clasping his hands in front of him as he reverted to his submissive posture.

Duke Natt tucked his silk handkerchief back into his sleeve, shrinking his portly frame backward.

Duke Mindrow cast his gaze downward, staring at the floor as if he had suddenly developed a profound interest in the floorboards of House Leo.

No one spoke.

Ethan, meanwhile, watched this play out with great amusement.

Power?

It was nothing more than the outward manifestation of strength.