"From this day forward, you are no longer a part of House Valemont. You will bear no crest, no protection, no recognition. Be gone."
The words shattered the air, reverberating through the vast marble hall like the ominous toll of a death knell.
Duke Leofric Valemont did not raise his voice. He did not need to. His tone was calm, solemn, and final — a guillotine's blade sheathed in velvet, descending without hesitation.
At the receiving end knelt Klein Valemont. The third son of the Duke. The fallen prodigy. The false talent.
His forehead pressed against the cold stone floor, his body trembling with emotions he could barely contain. Rage. Shame. Helplessness. A tumultuous storm twisted across his face, yet none of them mattered. Not here. Not in the presence of these people.
He could feel their eyes.
The uncles who had once boasted of his brilliance. The cousins who had once cowered beneath his shadow. The parents who had once offered him warmth. All of them now looked down upon him, their gazes as cold as ice. Their love had vanished. Their pride curdled into contempt.
To them, he was no longer a son, no longer kin. He was nothing but a blemish — a stain on the name of Valemont, one of the pillar families of the Almadeon Kingdom.
Even his mother. Duchess Emily Valemont, the rose of the house, once gentle with both her words and touch, now regarded him as filth beneath her heel.
A stain. Nothing more.
'This… this was not how it was supposed to be.' The whisper vanished in his throat, consumed by the oppressive silence of the hall.
It was his eighteenth birthday. His coming of age. The day he should have stood proud before the house, the day he should have donned his mantle as an enforcer of the family's legacy. It should have been a day of triumph.
Instead… banishment. That was his reward.
It was cruel, yet not unexpected. He had always known this day would come. Since the awakening. Since two years ago. That cursed day.
On his sixteenth birthday, he had stood tall, golden in every sense. Intelligent. Handsome. Brilliant with both sword and word. The next heir, everyone whispered. The prodigy blessed by the heavens.
And then came the truth.
The announcement of his awakening's result echoed through the grand hall. The hall that had once cheered for him fell silent.
A sealed affinity. It was worse than being a dud. A dud could still follow the path of body tempering, could still wield strength as a knight. But a sealed affinity was a curse.
The mana core had formed, but it was useless. The life seed could not awaken, and with no known way to unseal it, his fate was sealed with that single revelation.
No power. No future. No hope.
A sealed fate.
From that moment, everything changed. Praise turned to ridicule. Respect soured into scorn. Love twisted into loathing. Every whispered word of envy became a sneer spoken aloud.
For two years, Klein fought against this. He trained until his body was broken. He bled in secret, clawing at the walls of his destiny, hoping for a miracle that never came. And still, the chains held. His affinity remained sealed.
And as he struggled, his place within the family withered. From heir to disappointment. From disappointment to burden. From burden to disgrace. Until, finally, a slave in all but name.
And now, banishment.
Duke Leofric's voice cut through the air once more, relentless and unforgiving. "Guards."
The twin doors of the grand hall groaned open. Two armored figures strode in, their steps sharp, each one a resounding echo in the silent hall. Their steel armor gleamed with light, polished so brilliantly it shone like liquid fire.
They stopped before the Duke and, in perfect unison, knelt.
"Yes, our lord." Their voices boomed, steady and unwavering.
"Take him away."
The command was simple, but it struck Klein's chest like the blow of a hammer.
His teeth ground together. His vision blurred. He wanted to scream, to beg — but he had already done that. He had already cried. He had already debased himself countless times, pleading for another chance, another shred of faith. And what had it earned him? Nothing but further humiliation.
No. He would not show weakness again.
His jaw locked as the rough, unfeeling gauntlets seized his shoulders. They pulled him upright as though he were nothing more than trash to be discarded.
"Enough. I can walk on my own."
Klein's voice shattered the silence, sharp as steel drawn from its sheath. With a jerk, he tore the guard's hand from his shoulder, his back rigid, chin raised in defiance.
To them, he was no more than discarded nobility — a broken son, a failure stripped of his crest and bloodline heritage. But even in ruin, even in exile, he would not be dragged like a carcass through the halls that once echoed with his triumphs.
Dignity was all he had left. And that, he would not surrender.
The guards hesitated. A beat passed. Then, they stepped back, their iron boots clanging in unison as they resumed their flanking position. A silent warning in their posture: falter, and you will be dragged like trash.
Klein walked. One step, then another, the weight of the polished marble pressing against his soles. He did not turn. He did not look back at the sea of faces he knew lingered behind him. To look back would wound him further.
To look back would mean seeing the cold sneers of those who had once praised him, the mocking curve of lips that had once sung his name in pride.
So he walked on.
And behind him, the whispers began.
Maids peered from behind the pillars, servants peered through half-closed doors. Their hushed voices curled through the air like smoke.
"Pathetic."
"To think a prodigy would be reduced to such… It is truly pitiful."
"Such a shame… He was the brightest of them all…"
Mockery, contempt, pity — each word was a dagger. But it was pity that cut deepest.
Contempt he could endure. Mockery, he had grown numb to. But pity — pity wrapped its fingers around his throat, squeezing, making him feel smaller, weaker, more wretched than he already was.
His chest burned. His fists clenched. Still, he pressed on.
And then it came.
"Halt!"
The command sliced through the air, sharp and commanding, like the crack of a whip. The guards froze. Klein's steps faltered, though he did not turn. He knew that voice. Knew it all too well.
The sound of measured, arrogant footsteps followed, striking against the stone in deliberate rhythm.
"…Young Master," the guards muttered, bowing as Lucian Valemont entered.
The second son. The shadow. The boy who had once cowered beneath Klein's brilliance, like a weed beneath a towering oak. Untalented. Unwanted. And now, the loudest crow in the wake of Klein's fall.
"Well, well…" Lucian's voice dripped with mockery as he sauntered closer, arms crossed, chin tilted with arrogance. "So the family has finally cast out the trash. About time. The air has stunk long enough."
From the corners of the hall came stifled laughter. Servants' giggles. Maids' muffled chuckles. Each sound felt like a needle beneath Klein's skin, each ripple of amusement another wound.
Heat surged up his neck, his face flushing crimson. He wanted to shout. To strike. To claw the smirk from Lucian's lips. But reason held him back. Lucian had awakened a flame affinity. Fire ran in his veins, a weapon waiting to burn. Klein had nothing. Nothing but a sealed affinity and empty hands.
Lucian circled him, like a jackal savoring prey, his smirk widening with each step. "The great Klein Valemont," he drawled. "Once a prodigy. Once the shining jewel of the family. All those praises, all that glory…" He leaned close, his breath hot against Klein's ear. "All wasted. Tell me, brother, how does it feel? To fall from heaven into the mud? To become nothing but the family's shame?"
Klein's nails dug into his palms, crescent-shaped wounds opening as blood welled up. His body shook with fury. His tongue pressed hard against his teeth, tasting iron, holding back the roar that clawed at his throat. He would not give Lucian the pleasure of watching him break.
But the laughter returned. The whispered giggles, the hidden smirks, the eyes gleaming with cruel delight. Their amusement crawled into his ears, into his skull, until his whole body burned with rage and shame. His ears turned red, his heart pounded, his vision blurred with fury.
And then —
"Enough!"