Chapter : 151

  He must have made some sound, a grunt of surprise or perhaps just the creak of abused floorboards beneath his feet, because her head turned slowly, those unnerving obsidian eyes fixing on him. Her expression was, as usual, a perfect mask of cool indifference. But there was no denying it. The scent of rosemary, clean and distinct, clung to her like a subtle, almost defiant, statement.

  "You… you smell like a herb garden," Lloyd managed, the words out before he could stop them. Smooth, Lloyd, real smooth. Top-tier conversational skills right there. Probably why he was still sleeping on the sofa. Or, you know, the rug.

  Rosa’s eyebrow, that perfectly sculpted arch of disdain, rose a fraction of an millimeter. "An astute olfactory observation, Lloyd," she replied, her voice the usual cool, crisp monotone. "Perhaps your time spent communing with nature in… questionable locales… has sharpened your senses." The faintest, almost imperceptible emphasis on 'questionable locales' was the only hint that she was aware of his Galla Forest escapade. Or perhaps just disapproving of his current, rather disreputable, appearance.

  Lloyd chose to ignore the implied critique. He was too focused on the rosemary. "So, the soap," he pressed, unable to contain his curiosity. "The dispenser. You… tried it?"

  "The cleansing agent provided appeared… adequate for its intended purpose," Rosa stated, her gaze returning to the window, dismissing the topic with her usual infuriatingly detached efficiency. Adequate. That was it. After everything – the dung, the pump, the rich lather, the Duchess's near-swoon of delight – her verdict was 'adequate'. Lloyd almost laughed. It was so perfectly, frustratingly, Rosa.

  But he saw it. The slight flush on her cheeks, perhaps from the warmth of the morning sun, or perhaps from the uncharacteristic admission, however understated. And the scent. The undeniable, lingering scent of rosemary. She hadn't just used it; she was wearing it. A small, almost invisible victory, but a victory nonetheless. The Ice Princess had, however reluctantly, embraced the Ferrum Family Finest (Prototype) Cleansing Elixir. His soap empire had claimed its first, most formidable, convert.

  Buoyed by this unexpected, if subtle, triumph, Lloyd’s thoughts immediately, eagerly, turned to the other, more pressing victory: the System Coins. One hundred and three of them, burning a metaphorical hole in his mental pocket. The Maternal Bloodline Awakening. Power. Progress.

  "Right," he muttered to himself, already turning away from Rosa, the scent of rosemary now a pleasant, almost triumphant backdrop. "System. Show me the goods. Time to cash in those well-earned, nearly-got-me-eaten-by-a-pantheon-of-mythological-nightmares, trauma-inducing reward points."

  He closed his eyes, focusing inwards, ready to access the pulsating notification, to finally initiate the awakening ritual, to feel the surge of new, untapped power coursing through his veins…

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  The sound, sharp and insistent, cut through his anticipation like a well-aimed dagger. Lloyd’s eyes snapped open, a groan of pure frustration escaping him. Seriously? Now? Could he not get five minutes of peace to engage in a bit of clandestine, system-fueled, bloodline-enhancing self-improvement? Was that too much to ask?

  "Young Lord Ferrum?" a timid voice called from beyond the heavy oak door. A maid. "Apologies for the disturbance, Young Lord, but… the Arch Duke. He requests your immediate presence in his study."

  Lloyd stared at the door, then glanced towards Rosa, who was now observing him with that unnervingly calm, analytical gaze, as if cataloging his reaction to this new interruption. His father? Summoning him? Again? This was… unusual. Roy Ferrum was not a man given to casual chats or frequent, impromptu meetings. His summons were usually reserved for matters of state, significant transgressions, or the thrice-daily ritual of family dining, which often felt like a combination of the first two. To be called to the study twice in such short succession, especially after the dramatic events of the Galla Forest incident (which Ken had undoubtedly reported in excruciating, deadpan detail by now), felt… ominous. Or perhaps, just deeply inconvenient.

  "Of course," Lloyd called back, forcing a calmness he didn't feel into his voice. "Inform His Grace I will attend him presently." He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, his plans for immediate power-ups dissolving like mist. "Well, so much for a quiet morning of mystical bloodline awakenings and existential contemplation," he muttered under his breath, shooting a wry, exasperated look towards Rosa, who merely blinked, her expression unchanging. "Duty calls. Or, you know, paternal interrogation. Probably the latter."

  He quickly splashed some water on his face in the washroom – pointedly not using the rosemary soap this time, the irony would be too much – and changed into a slightly less battle-scarred, more presentable tunic. He needed to look like the responsible, if somewhat adventurous, heir, not like someone who had recently been using giant mythological creatures for target practice.

  Chapter : 152

  The walk to his father’s study felt longer, heavier, than usual. His mind raced, replaying the events in Galla Forest. Ken’s intervention. The sheer, overwhelming power. His father knew everything by now. What would the verdict be? Approval for his initiative? Fury at his recklessness? A lecture on the proper protocols for engaging (or, more accurately, fleeing from) creatures that could level small towns?

  He reached the familiar, imposing oak door and knocked, bracing himself.

  "Enter."

  Lloyd pushed the door open and stepped inside. The study was its usual bastion of ordered, intimidating power. Arch Duke Roy Ferrum sat behind his massive mahogany desk, quill poised over a stack of documents, his face an unreadable mask of stern authority. But it was the other figure in the room that made Lloyd pause, a flicker of surprise, quickly suppressed, running through him.

  Ken Park. Standing silently, impeccably, near the bookshelves, his presence a subtle counterpoint to Roy’s overt authority. Ken, not in his battle-merged, Demon Lord butler glory, but in his usual discreet, dark livery, radiating quiet competence and the faint, lingering scent of… well, nothing. Ken always smelled of nothing. Which, Lloyd supposed, was a talent in itself. His presence here, in the study, during a summons that clearly pertained to Lloyd, was significant. Witness? Corroborator? Or simply… reinforcement?

  "Father. Ken," Lloyd greeted, bowing respectfully, his gaze steady.

  "Lloyd," Roy acknowledged, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. He set his quill down with deliberate precision, the small sound echoing in the sudden silence. He didn't invite Lloyd to sit. This wasn't a discussion; it was a judgment. "I have received Colonel Park’s report." (Colonel was Ken’s official military rank within the Ferrum household guard, a title rarely used in daily interactions but invoked now to lend weight to his testimony). "A… comprehensive account of your recent unsanctioned expedition to the periphery of Galla Forest. And your subsequent, rather dramatic, incursion into its depths."

  Roy’s dark eyes, sharp and penetrating, fixed on Lloyd. "He detailed the… ecological survey. The unexpected and uncatalogued hostile entity encountered in the Sunken Fen Mire. Your commendable, if ultimately futile, attempts to engage it. Your strategic, if desperate, retreat into Galla proper. The subsequent encounter with the… indigenous serpentine guardian. And," his voice dropped almost imperceptibly, a dangerous quiet, "Colonel Park’s necessary, decisive intervention to ensure your survival and that of Lady Faria Kruts and her retinue."

  He paused, letting the summary, stripped of all its terrifying, chaotic emotion and reduced to a series of cold, tactical facts, hang heavy in the air. "Colonel Park also informs me," Roy continued, his gaze unwavering, "that the initial Guild assessment of the region was… catastrophically inaccurate. That the creature encountered in the Mire was far beyond the parameters of a 'moderate risk' assignment. That its presence so close to the forest edge, barely a kilometer from established pathways, is a severe anomaly, indicative of either gross incompetence on the part of the Guild scriveners or," his eyes narrowed slightly, "something more… deliberate. An investigation into the Guild’s intelligence gathering and contract vetting protocols for that sector has already commenced. Heads, I assure you, will roll if negligence or malfeasance is discovered."

  Lloyd nodded slowly, appreciating the thoroughness, the immediate action. His father, whatever his faults, was a ruthlessly efficient ruler when roused. "That is… reassuring, Father."

  "Reassuring is not the point, Lloyd," Roy cut in sharply, his voice losing its flat neutrality, gaining an edge of steel. "The point is your conduct." He leaned forward, his gaze hardening, the full weight of his ducal authority pressing down. "Venturing into known hazardous territories, even on a Guild-sanctioned task, is one thing. It demonstrates a certain… initiative. A willingness to engage with the world beyond these estate walls. Which, I will concede," a flicker of something unreadable, perhaps grudging approval, crossed his face for a fraction of a second, "is a recent development I find… noteworthy, if occasionally perplexing."

  The 'perplexing' was undoubtedly a nod to the soap, the dung, and his son’s generally bizarre recent behavior.

  "However," Roy’s voice rose again, sharp, commanding, "to do so without prior consultation, without seeking permission, without informing your commanding officer – myself – of your intentions, your destination, the potential risks involved… that, Lloyd, is not initiative. That is recklessness. That is insubordination. That is a dereliction of your duty as heir to this house, a house that relies on your continued existence and sound judgment for its future stability!"

  Chapter : 153

  The Arch Duke mask was firmly in place now, stern, unyielding, radiating paternal fury and ducal displeasure in equal, overwhelming measure. "You are not some common hedge knight, Lloyd, free to chase adventure and risk your neck for a few paltry silver coins! You are a Ferrum! The future Arch Duke! Your life is not solely your own to gamble with! Every decision you make, every risk you take, has implications far beyond your own person! Implications for this family, for this Duchy, for the thousands of souls who depend upon our strength, our stability, our leadership!"

  He slammed a fist onto the desk, the sound a sharp crack in the tense silence, making the inkwell jump. "What if Colonel Park hadn't been there? What if his… considerable abilities… had not been sufficient? What if that… serpent… had decided you were a more appealing appetizer than the Mire creature? You would be dead, Lloyd! Dead! For what? A misguided ecological survey? A handful of silver? The thrill of facing down monsters you are clearly ill-equipped to handle on your own?"

  His voice was a low, dangerous growl now, the controlled fury of a man pushed to his limit. "You will not do this again, Lloyd. You will not engage in any activity outside these estate walls, be it Guild contract or personal whim, that carries even a moderate risk, without my express, prior permission. You will not place yourself in unnecessary jeopardy. You will not act like a common thrill-seeker. You are the heir. You will behave as such. Is that understood?"

  The silence in the study was absolute, broken only by Lloyd’s own steady breathing. He met his father’s furious gaze, not with fear, not with defiance, but with a quiet, unwavering understanding. He saw the anger, yes. But beneath it, raw and undeniable, he saw something else. Fear. His father’s fear. Fear for his son, for his heir, for the future of their line. It was the same fear he’d recognized before, the fear that had driven Roy to push him towards business studies, the fear that now manifested as this thunderous, almost desperate, assertion of authority.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  And in that moment, Lloyd didn’t feel chastised. He didn’t feel resentful. He felt… a strange, unexpected warmth spread through his chest. This wasn't just the Arch Duke reprimanding a reckless subordinate. This was a father, terrified of losing his son, expressing that terror in the only way he knew how: through anger, through commands, through the assertion of control.

  A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Lloyd’s lips, a smile of genuine, quiet affection that his father, in his righteous fury, probably missed entirely. He’s worried, Lloyd thought, the realization surprisingly heartwarming. He’s actually, genuinely, fatherly-concerned-about-my-well-being worried. Even if he sounds like he’s about to have me clapped in irons and fed bread and water for a month.

  "If you ever," Roy Ferrum continued, his voice dropping again, laced with a threat that was both terrifying and, in its own twisted way, deeply paternal, "pull a stunt like this again, Lloyd, if you so much as think about setting foot in a place like Galla Forest without my knowledge and a full contingent of the Ducal Guard armed to the teeth, I swear by the bones of every Ferrum ancestor, I will personally break both your legs. And then," he added, his eyes blazing, "I will have Ken chain you to that ridiculous sofa in your suite until you develop some semblance of common sense. Are we absolutely, unequivocally, crystal clear on this point?"

  Lloyd looked at his furious, powerful, secretly terrified father. He looked at Ken Park, standing silently by the bookshelves, his face an impassive mask that probably hid a universe of butlerly exasperation and Demon Lord amusement. He thought of the forty System Coins, the promise of his awakened bloodline, the burgeoning soap empire, the giant snake that had almost eaten him. Life, he decided, was certainly never dull.

  "Crystal clear, Father," Lloyd replied, his voice calm, respectful, and holding absolutely no trace of the internal amusement bubbling just beneath the surface. "My apologies for the… unsanctioned fieldwork. It will not happen again. Without proper authorization, of course." He even managed to inject a note of sincere contrition into his tone. The "break his legs" threat was a classic Roy Ferrum rhetorical flourish, usually reserved for particularly incompetent stable masters or tax collectors caught with their hands in the ducal till. To have it directed at him, the heir, was… almost endearing. In a terrifying, slightly dysfunctional, aristocratic family sort of way.

  He was pretty sure he wouldn't get his legs broken. Probably. But he also knew he'd just been given a very clear, very loud, and surprisingly touching demonstration of paternal concern. The Ferrum way.

  Chapter : 154

  The thunderous echoes of Roy Ferrum’s leg-breaking pronouncements slowly faded, leaving behind a heavy, charged silence in the study. The paternal fury, having vented its immediate pressure, began to recede, replaced by a different kind of intensity – a keen, probing scrutiny that made Lloyd feel as if his very soul were being dissected under a powerful, analytical lens. His father, having established the absolute, non-negotiable boundaries regarding future unsanctioned, potentially suicidal, adventuring, now shifted his focus.

  "Now, Lloyd," Roy began again, his voice regaining its flat, almost judicial tone, though the underlying tension remained palpable. He steepled his fingers, his gaze fixed on his son with unnerving precision. "Your recent… activities… have brought several matters to my attention. Matters beyond mere youthful recklessness or a sudden, inexplicable aptitude for soap-making." He paused, the silence stretching, heavy with unspoken questions. "It is about damn time, I believe, that we speak plainly about your… abilities."

  Lloyd’s internal alarms, already jangling from the near-death experiences and the paternal dressing-down, went into overdrive. Abilities? Plural? Uh oh. He’s not just talking about my surprisingly adequate soap chemistry, is he? He kept his external expression carefully neutral, projecting polite, slightly chastened, attentiveness. "My abilities, Father?" he prompted, feigning mild confusion.

  "Do not play the fool with me, Lloyd," Roy’s voice sharpened instantly, cutting through the pretense. "I am not Master Elmsworth, to be distracted by feigned ignorance or clever deflections." His eyes narrowed. "Colonel Park’s reports have been… detailed. Illuminating. He described your encounter with those street thugs – the ones loyal to your uncle," (a flicker of renewed displeasure crossed Roy’s face at the mention of Rubel) "not just the initial slap, but the subsequent… incapacitation. Heat. Precision. Injuries consistent with something far beyond a simple brawl or basic Void manipulation."

  He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Then, the incident in Galla Forest. The Mire creature. Colonel Park described you attempting to engage it with… manifestations of what appeared to be metallic cables. Superheated. And then," his voice dropped, acquiring a new note of gravity, "your engagement with the scavengers. The ‘Ridge Runners’, as they pathetically styled themselves. The initial, non-lethal takedown using unseen forces. And then, the subsequent display against their summoned spirits. Wires of gleaming… steel, not iron. And finally," Roy’s eyes bored into Lloyd, "the projection of solid, heated, metallic spheres. From your bare hands. With considerable force."

  He paused, letting the litany of observed powers hang in the air. "These are not the actions of someone with merely mediocre ‘Iron Body’ capabilities, Lloyd. This is something else entirely. Something… potent. Something you have kept remarkably well hidden." He looked towards Ken Park, who stood as impassive and silent as a stone gargoyle. "Colonel Park confirms my assessment. The power signatures were not consistent with publicly known Ferrum abilities, nor with any rudimentary Spirit Power you might possess."

  Lloyd’s mind raced. Okay, this is it. The big reveal. Or, you know, the carefully curated, partial reveal that doesn't involve interdimensional travel, eighty years of accumulated life experience, or a cosmic shopping catalogue that runs on magic money. He couldn’t tell them the truth, the whole truth. It was too fantastical, too unbelievable. It would mark him as a lunatic, or worse, something to be feared, controlled, perhaps even… dissected. He needed a plausible explanation, something that fit within the known parameters of their world, even if it stretched them.

  "Father," Lloyd began, choosing his words with extreme care, "it is true. My abilities… they have been developing. Unexpectedly, perhaps. More rapidly than I anticipated." He focused on the Ferrum power, the one Roy had directly observed. "The… metal manipulation. It is stronger, more refined than I previously demonstrated. It feels less like crude iron, more like… true steel. And there is an affinity for heat, for fire, that I am only just beginning to understand and control." He deliberately omitted any mention of the System, Fang’s true nature beyond 'developing', or the source of his knowledge. Stick to what they’ve seen, what they can potentially verify or understand within their own framework.

  Chapter : 155

  Roy listened, his expression unreadable, absorbing the partial admission. "Steel," he repeated, the word resonating with a strange, almost ancient significance. "And fire." His gaze became distant, thoughtful, as if accessing a deep, seldom-visited archive of memory. "The old tales. The whispers. The true Ferrum legacy, before the… dilutions. Before the public facade of mere 'Iron Blood' was established for security, for survival." He looked back at Lloyd, a new, almost startling intensity in his eyes. "How, Lloyd? How did you come by this knowledge? This control? The 'Book of Ferrum: True Lineage', the one detailing the path to awakening the Steel Blood, to undoing the ancestral curse that binds our true power… that book is sealed. Known only to the Arch Duke. I have not yet shown it to you. I deemed you… unready." The unspoken implication: How do you wield a power you should not yet comprehend, let alone master?

  A trap. A direct, pointed question designed to expose any deception, any hidden source of knowledge. Lloyd felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. He couldn't admit to finding the book in his previous life. He couldn't reveal the System’s potential for buying Void powers (though he hadn't yet). He needed a different explanation. One that played into their existing understanding, yet allowed for his unexpected development.

  He feigned confusion, a look of genuine bewilderment crossing his face. "Steel Blood, Father? An ancestral curse? The Book of Ferrum?" He shook his head slowly, as if trying to process unfamiliar, almost mythical concepts. "I… I confess, I know nothing of these things. I have merely… focused. Meditated. Tried to understand the power that flows within me, the Ferrum blood. It… it just responded differently this time. The steel, the fire… it felt… natural. Innate. As if it were always there, just waiting to be properly grasped." He looked down at his hands, as if marveling at some newfound, inexplicable talent. "I simply… willed it, and it obeyed."

  He looked back up at his father, projecting an air of earnest, slightly dazed, discovery. Let him think I’m some kind of prodigy, Lloyd strategized wildly. A once-in-a-generation talent who stumbled into awakening the true power through sheer instinct and dumb luck, bypassing the need for ancient texts and forgotten rituals. It’s more palatable than ‘I died, went to another planet, came back with a magic shopping list and a serious case of déjà vu’.

  Roy Ferrum stared at his son, his mind clearly grappling with this new, even more perplexing, possibility. Lloyd, using the Steel Blood without the book, without the knowledge, without the ritual to break the curse? It was… theoretically impossible. The curse, a self-imposed limitation from generations past, designed to shield the true Ferrum power from those who would misuse it, was supposed to bind the full potential until specific rites, detailed only in the sealed book, were performed. For Lloyd to have bypassed it, to have awakened the true Steel and Fire through sheer innate talent and willpower… it was unheard of. It would make him not just powerful, but a genius of a caliber not seen in the Ferrum line for centuries. A true, unadulterated expression of their most ancient, most potent, bloodline.

  A slow, almost stunned expression began to dawn on Roy Ferrum’s face. It wasn’t disbelief, but a dawning, almost fearful, awe. "You… you undid the curse?" he murmured, more to himself than to Lloyd. "On your own? Without the Truths? Simply by… instinct?" He looked at Lloyd again, a profound, almost unsettling reassessment occurring. The boy he had deemed mediocre, average… was he, in fact, a diamond of unparalleled brilliance, merely hidden beneath layers of youthful insecurity and a lack of proper guidance? Had Roy himself misjudged, underestimated, failed to see the true potential lurking within his own son? The thought was both exhilarating and deeply humbling.

  "It would seem," Roy concluded, his voice regaining some of its usual gravitas, though now tinged with this new, almost reverent understanding, "that you possess a level of innate talent, Lloyd, a connection to the core Ferrum lineage, that surpasses even my most optimistic, if previously unvoiced, hopes." He paused, a flicker of something that might have been paternal pride – fierce, unexpected, almost painful in its intensity – crossing his stern features before being ruthlessly suppressed. "You are a true Ferrum, it appears. Perhaps more so than many who have borne the name."

  Lloyd merely inclined his head, accepting the pronouncement with feigned humility, while internally, his eighty-year-old self was doing a frantic victory lap. He bought it! He actually bought the 'accidental prodigy' routine! Gods, the man wants to believe in me so badly, he'll accept almost any explanation, however far-fetched, as long as it doesn't involve interdimensional shopping sprees for superpowers!