Lucien's power came crashing down like a collapsing sky.
Grey's knees smashed through the wooden floor with a sickening crack, blood spraying from his nose as he gasped for air.
Even Cedric, an S-rank hunter, felt his own body tremble under the residual pressure.
He gripped his wife's hand tightly - both to steady her and himself.
"What did you just say?"
Lucien's voice was death itself.
Each word carried enough weight to crush bones.
But Cedric knew...
This was barely a fraction of his true power - just enough to make a point.
If he had unleashed his full strength, not even Cedric can walk away unscathed.
Yet when he looked at Grey on the ground...
He felt nothing from him.
No fear. No pain. Just that same infuriating arrogance, as if this were all some fun game.
And as if that was not enough...
"Hah...kuh..."
The bastard smiled through bloody teeth.
Somehow, impossibly, he began pushing himself up.
His arms shook violently, bones creaking under the pressure, yet he rose inch by agonizing inch until he stood on trembling legs.
"Did you… not hear me…?"
Grey coughed, blood splattering against the shattered floor.
His chest heaved.
Every breath sounded like it scraped against broken glass.
"Then… let me—" he wheezed, shoulders trembling, "say it… again."
Each word broke free in ragged gasps, wet and strained, yet something unyielding lingered in his tone.
"I won't… apologize…" His golden eyes, rimmed with red, locked onto Cedric—gleaming with a flicker of dark amusement. He bared a bloodstained grin.
"…And I don't… want to marry… a touched girl."
"...!"
The word "touched" hung in the air like a slap.
Cedric moved before he could think.
The table exploded under his fist.
His mana screamed, a hurricane of violence focused solely on grinding this insect into paste.
Grey crumpled again, ribs audibly creaking, more blood splattering the floor—
But the smirk never left his face.
"ENOUGH."
Liana's voice cut through the storm like a blade.
The pressure lifted instantly.
Panting, Cedric stared at the bloodied boy on the ground.
Grey wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand...
And grinned up at them.
"..."
In that moment, Cedric didn't know what to think.
This wasn't the Grey he knew—the pathetic boy who could never meet his gaze. The one who used to flinch at the sound of his voice, who trembled like a cornered animal whenever he entered the room.
That same boy was now mocking him.
When Cedric looked into his eyes, all he saw was something twisted—crazed amusement dancing in the golden depths. There was no fear. No hesitation.
Just a madness that couldn't be explained.
He couldn't read him anymore.
He couldn't see through him like he used to.
The current Grey was…
Something else entirely.
Every movement, every word, felt wrong—like they were coming from a broken mirror reflection of the boy he once knew.
It was as if he'd descended into complete madness.
As if he feared nothing. Neither pain. Nor any consequence.
Not even death.
'Just what had happened to him?'
Cedric still remembered when he first heard the accusation—that Grey had tried to force himself on Effie.
He hadn't believed it.
It sounded absurd.
The boy had always followed her around like a lovesick dog, desperate for her attention.
That was why Cedric had supported the engagement.
Why he had pushed for the marriage.
But now…
Now, watching him, he wasn't so sure anymore.
For the first time, he could understand the fear he'd glimpsed in his daughter's eyes.
Because even he felt it now.
That creeping sensation—that cold unease—slithered down Cedric's spine and coiled around his chest like a serpent.
He watched, silent and rigid, as the boy slowly rose from the blood-slick floor…
like a corpse dragged from its grave.
Bones cracked audibly beneath his skin, joints shifting with unnatural stiffness.
Blood clung to his lips and teeth, glistening under the light, but his face remained unchanged—no wince, no grimace.
No pain.
The way his body moved was jerky and wrong, almost mechanical, like a marionette being tugged upright by invisible strings.
Cedric was certain—one or two of the boy's bones had to be broken.
He was mana less, unreinforced, and even though both he and Lucien had held back significantly, the force should've been enough to leave him crumpled and unconscious.
Yet the boy stood.
His spine popped. His shoulder jerked back into place with a sickening crack.
And still… not a flicker of discomfort crossed his face.
It was as if he didn't feel anything at all.
That absence of pain—of humanity—made him all the more disturbing.
He was like a puppet.
A thing animated not by life, but by sheer madness.
'What in the world happened to him…?'
'Did he finally lost it?'
The thought lingered as he stared, transfixed, at the boy who had once been Grey.
And then—
"You said you don't want to marry Effie Bennet?"
Lady Liana voice cut through the air like a blade of ice.
But Cedric didn't turn toward her.
His eyes remained fixed on the boy.
"...Yes." Grey replied.
"But wasn't it you who begged for this engagement? What changed?"
Grey's bloody smile widened as he looked at Cedric.
"Like I said...I don't like used goods."
"YOU BASTARD!"
Both Cedric and his wife lunged forward, only to be stopped by Lucien's raised hand.
The guild leader was...chuckling.
"Do you think you have a choice?" Lucien's amusement vanished as quickly as it came.
"Do you think your choice even matters?"
"..."
The room held its breath.
Grey met his father's gaze without flinching.
"Yes it does. in fact it's the only choice that matters."
"..."
"Is this your final decision"
"yes"
"..."
For a long moment, both father and son stared each other down - neither backing down.
Then Lucien laughed.
Low at first, almost a scoff. Then it deepened, curling with disbelief.
"Hah… I see."
The smile didn't reach his eyes.
"…Very well," he said at last, voice sharp as shattered glass. "Then here's my final decision- Either you marry Effie Bennet…"
His eyes narrowed, voice dropping into something dark and absolute.
"…Or you leave this house."
"...!"
A stunned silence followed.
As everyone gaze shifted to him...
Even Liana looked shocked.
Grey on the other hand didn't show much of reaction as he calmly reply...
"Then I'll leave."
The moment Grey uttered those words- the air in the room turned to ice.
Lucien's face darkened like a gathering storm. "Good. Then leave this house right now."
The words dropped like stones.
Just as grey turned to leave...
It was then that something unprecedented happened.
From the shadows where he'd stood silent as a statue, the head butler Albert moved with startling speed, dropping to his knees before Lucien with a heavy thud.
"My Lord," the old servant's voice trembled with uncharacteristic emotion, "I beg you to reconsider. Young Master is not in his right mind. Please, grant him one final chance—"
A shocked silence fell. In all his years of service, Albert had never once interfered in family matters.
His sudden declaration made even Liana's eyes widen.
But Lucien didn't move. He simply stared down at his son with unreadable calm—an eerie, frigid stillness behind his gaze.
Before he could say a word, Grey was already near the door.
His back faced them.
"Stand up, Albert," he said quietly. His voice, strangely gentle now, was a sharp contrast to the venom he had spat moments before. "There's no point talking to fools. They only see and hear what they want to."
The insult dropped into the room like the blade of a guillotine—sharp, deliberate, and unforgiving.
Liana's patience finally snapped.
"Grey Ravenwood!" Her voice cracked like a whip, laced with raw authority. Mana surged around her in shimmering, visible waves, making the air tremble with pressure. "I warn you—do not cross the line."
Grey turned his head slightly—just enough for them to catch a glimpse of one golden eye.
His smile widened, slow and bloodstained, curling into something truly terrifying.
"Oh? Did I offend you… mother?" he asked, voice soft but thick with mockery. He let the word drip from his tongue like poison. "Well… that wasn't my intention at all."
A beat passed. His grin grew sharper.
"Not that I'm going to apologize, of course."
He dragged his tongue across his cracked lips, smearing the dried blood that clung there like warpaint. His golden eyes gleamed—not with anger, but with something far more unsettling.
Madness.
"I mean, what else should I call you all… if not fools?"
The room went still.
No one breathed.
"You all claim I tried to violate a girl," Grey continued, his voice low, almost conversational—yet every syllable dripped with mockery. "But tell me—how exactly could an unarmed, mana-less cripple overpower an F-rank hunter?"
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Cedric felt the blood drain from his face.
Beside him, Liana's grip tightened around his arm, her knuckles turning white. Her breath caught in her throat.
Grey's grin didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider—hungrier—as he watched their expressions twist in silent realization.
"The fact that none of you even questioned it," he said, voice rising just slightly, "means one of two things. Either your brains are so full of shit that you can't even think straight…"
He tilted his head.
"Or you already knew the truth."
His gaze landed squarely on Liana.
"…And chose to hide it."
"..."
The accusation rang through the room like a bell tolling the end of something.
He stepped outside the hall—not fully, just enough to loom in her periphery—and cocked his head to the side, eyes glittering.
"So tell me, mother…" His tone was sweet, venom wrapped in silk. "Are you a fool with a shit-filled brain, or—"
He stopped.
Then suddenly he burst out laughing—a sound jagged and unhinged, like glass cracking under strain. It was the laugh of a madman. He turned and walked away, steps slow and deliberate, until he slipped out of sight and vanished through the doorway.
All that lingered was his laughter, echoing down the corridor, crawling beneath their skin
He never finished his sentence.
Because he didn't need to.
The damage was already done.
As color drained from Liana's face, replaced by a rage so potent it trembled at the edges of her expression.
Her aura flared again, heat and power cracking in the air.
Lucien said nothing.
But the murder in his eyes was plain.
For a heartbeat, he looked ready to kill his own son.
Albert remained frozen—caught in the midst of them all, his aged face pale with dawning horror.A realization had finally settled into his bones.
Silence fell over the hall, thick and unrelenting.
All eyes turned to the door—where just moments ago, he had stood.
The air felt hollow, as if something vital had been carved out and dragged away with him.
The absence he left behind was louder than any scream.
It was almost funny.
They had never acknowledged his presence before—never truly seen him.
But now? Now they couldn't look away.
Every gaze lingered on the space he'd occupied, as if his shadow still stood there.
And in that awful silence, no one dared to speak.