The guard saw them—and recognition flashed in his eyes. Brent. The Duke's third son.
Without hesitation, they surged forward. The sudden arrival of Brent altered the course of everything. Just moments ago, Dan had been a prisoner—confined and hopeless. But now, that same prisoner, filthy from his cell but alert, was free to move and act. He stepped forward, taking the lead, guiding them swiftly toward the underground facility.
They arrived at the ship.
Dan paused, struck by awe. The vessel stretched out before him—a towering Pegasus-class cruiser, the same ship he had glimpsed just days before, yet seeing it up close, he understood the full magnitude of the Duke's wealth. The Pegasus was a masterpiece of engineering—sleek lines, powerful engines, and shimmering with advanced technology. Its presence alone commanded respect. It was a symbol of power, of influence. No wonder the Duke was both feared and admired across the systems.
As Dan scanned the area, his eyes fell upon the Duke's absence. Only a handful of high-ranking officers stood in attendance, their posture regal, their gazes sharp. Among them was a commander—a man whose appearance belied his true strength. White-haired, older, yet his body was like iron—his aura potent and undeniable. It was the aura of a warrior forged by years of battle, a man who had seen and survived what others could not.
This was no ordinary officer. He was a living embodiment of war, his presence sharpening the air itself.
The commander approached Brent, exchanging a few hushed words. Dan stood quietly beside them, a shadow in the corner, careful not to draw attention. But then, without warning, the commander's gaze shifted—his eyes locking onto Dan's.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence. Dan could feel the weight of the commander's eyes, as though they peeled away the layers of his being, searching, probing—measuring not just his body, but his soul. It was an unsettling feeling. But just as quickly, the commander turned away, his eyes no longer focused on Dan.
He had seen everything and said nothing.
The moment passed, and they were led aboard the Pegasus, entering the VIP lobby. The space was a study in extravagance. Plush, oversized sofas encircled a central table, upon which sat an array of delicacies from across the systems—fruits that shimmered like jewels, meats that seemed to hum with flavor, pastries that emanated an irresistible aroma. It was a world of indulgence, an invitation to decadence. Luxury exhaled from every corner, and even the air itself seemed to carry the scent of power.
Dan and Brent settled into a brief respite, the quiet hum of the ship lulling them into a momentary peace.
By the time the Warneck base had been fully neutralized, the Pegasus began its ascent.
Dan knew where they were headed—Perduta, the capital of the Leion Dukedom. It wasn't just a political center; it was a living symbol of the Dukedom's immense legacy. Rich in history, breathtaking in beauty, and a magnet for visitors from every corner of the galaxy, Perduta represented the very heart of the realm. The Duke, however, lived on his own world—a planet wholly reserved for him, his private dominion.
But for Dan, it wasn't the destination that occupied his thoughts—it was the bond growing between him and Brent. The relationship was evolving. From comrades to friends. Genuine friends. In a world where power was everything, this connection was not to be taken lightly. Brent was more than just an ally—he was a conduit to influence, to power, perhaps even to the Duke himself.
Dan had learned a valuable lesson: power alone wasn't enough. In a universe where the weak were consumed, allies were as important as strength. To rise, to survive, he would need people at his back—people like Brent.
As exhaustion set in, sleep took him.
The gentle hum of the Pegasus' descent nudged him awake. The ship's movements were subtle—barely a tremor in the air, but if one had observed from afar, the landing would have seemed as if a meteor had quietly fallen to earth. Precision, elegance, and speed—this was the Pegasus.
As the ship settled, a figure approached—Brent's personal butler. The man's attire alone spoke volumes. Silk interwoven with gold, a design that whispered of wealth and status. Every detail screamed opulence.
They disembarked, stepping into a garden—a place that transcended the mere notion of greenery. The land stretched into infinity, an endless canvas of vibrant trees, flowering plants, and animals—some earthly, others alien—migrating through the ethereal space. The air itself pulsed with energy. Magic lingered in the air, subtle but tangible. Dan could sense it—the unmistakable presence of botanical sorcery. The gardeners weren't mere caretakers; they were wielders of arcane arts, cultivating life with both science and magic in perfect harmony.
No house. No structures. Only the land itself, teeming with life.
A small airship hovered nearby, a gleaming craft that exuded opulence despite its compact design. Stepping inside, Dan's senses were flooded with a kind of luxury he had never known. Plush sofas. A bed that seemed designed for royalty. The cabin was more spacious than his entire home—a stark reminder of the world he was now entering.
As the airship ascended, Dan gazed out the transparent windows, watching as the landscape below shifted and transformed. The trees thinned, the mountains faded into the distance, and then—looming ahead, emerging from the horizon—a castle.
It was no mere building. It was a colossal structure—its towering spires rising like spears toward the heavens. Each level seemed to stretch on forever, the walls a patchwork of stone and gold. The castle was a fortress, yes, but also a symbol of opulence and grandeur.
When the airship landed, Dan's heart skipped a beat. Before him stood the castle, magnificent in its scale, a fusion of ancient design and futuristic comfort. Every corner seemed to whisper of power, of history, and of untold wealth.
Inside, the grandeur continued. Sixty butlers stood in formation, bowing as Brent entered. The air shifted as they walked past—heavily armed guards flanked the hall, their eyes sharp, their presence an unspoken warning. And yet, it was all for Brent.
Dan felt a pang—a tightening in his chest. He was a commoner. A former prisoner. And in this moment, it was impossible to ignore the vast chasm that separated him from the world Brent inhabited.
But despite the overwhelming sense of alienation, he kept walking. He had come too far to turn back now.
Past the butlers and guards, they reached the inner sanctum of the castle. Brent disappeared into his quarters, while a butler led Dan to his own room—an opulent suite, far beyond anything Dan could have ever imagined. The room was more than just a space for guests. It was a sanctuary of luxury, with a bed fit for royalty and furnishings that seemed to pulse with quiet elegance.
The balcony offered a view of a private garden, bathed in the soft glow of the stars, and a pool that shimmered with an almost otherworldly light. It was paradise—and it was all for him.
Dan had never dreamed of such a life. He could scarcely comprehend it.
That night, a soft knock at the door roused him from his reverie. A butler, once again, informing him it was time for dinner.
He dressed in the fine clothes they had provided him. Expensive, rich fabrics that molded to his body like a second skin. He looked... too good. Too out of place.
But he embraced it.
The family dining hall was magnificent, the table set for a feast that Dan could only imagine. But to his surprise, the table was empty—no dishes, no food. The children waited in quiet anticipation. Dan took his seat across from Brent, unsure of what to expect.
The silence stretched, broken only when a butler entered and announced:
"The Duke is coming."
The room fell into immediate stillness. Everyone stood.
Then, the door opened.
The Duke entered.
A pressure filled the air, thickening the atmosphere. Dan felt it as soon as he saw him. It was not just power—it was dominance. A force that could bend the world itself to its will.
The Duke stood before them, a man of immense presence. His every step was a command. His gaze—piercing, authoritative—was enough to make even the strongest shiver. This was a man who could destroy worlds with a thought.
And now, his gaze was on Dan.
observers.
You stared at the Duke, the silence stretching long between you, thick with unspoken words. His presence was commanding, filling the room with a heaviness that made even the flickering candles seem subdued in comparison. He sank into his seat with practiced ease, and one by one, the others followed suit.
As the butler moved to serve, your gaze flickered over the feast laid out before you: an abundance of food that stretched the limits of imagination. Lobsters, glistening with butter, octopus tentacles curled in delicacy, roasted lamb tender enough to melt with a touch, and countless other rare and exotic dishes. The bounty could easily feed fifty, perhaps sixty people—but there were only eight seated at the table. No one questioned the opulence. The butler, with unwavering precision, served each of you with the same formality, and the clinking of silver against China soon filled the room as the meal began.
The Duke broke the quiet. "So, how was your last adventure? How many warnacks did you bring back? You've been gone for quite some time, after all."
Brent's breath caught, his muscles tensing under the weight of the question. He didn't need to answer—he never did. The Duke already knew the truth, every last detail. It wasn't a question, but a judgment, a silent demand for Brent to confront his failure.
Brent's fingers curled around the edge of his spoon, but he didn't raise it. His eyes remained cast downward, absorbed in the tension hanging like an unseen storm cloud above them. The quiet became heavier, the air thicker with expectation.
The Duke's patience frayed. His voice rose, each word carrying an edge of scorn. "You're not leaving this house for the next year. I may even cancel your entry to the King's Academy. You couldn't even kill a single warnack. What should I expect from you? Look at your brothers!" His gaze swept across the table with disdain. "One of them won the Galaxy Tournament of esoteric Warriors, and the other commands my army."
His words dropped like stones, one after another, the weight of each sentence pressing Brent further down. The Duke let the silence fill the gaps, waiting for the sting of his words to settle deep within.
Then, as though shifting his gaze from one disappointment to the next, the Duke's eyes rested on Dan. A flicker of something darker passed through the Duke's expression, but his words, when they came, held a different tone—one of calculation.
"For years, James never recommended anyone," the Duke mused, his voice thoughtful, as though contemplating something far beyond the table. "This is the first time he's vouched for someone. And he recommended you. You've already mastered things that most wouldn't dream of at your age. I see it in your eyes—the strength. Surviving at the base with no connections... that speaks volumes."
Dan's heart raced, and his thoughts stuttered to a halt. The Duke was offering him something no one could refuse.
"I'll make you an offer," the Duke continued, his voice sharp with the weight of a decision being made in the blink of an eye. "Join the Imperial Army. You'll serve under James, the Main Commander. Your rank will be just below his. And I'll grant you half a planet as your own territory."
Dan's mind spun, grappling with the magnitude of what had just been laid at his feet. Such a proposal was nothing short of extraordinary—one of the highest honors in the entire dukedom.
But he stood his ground, his voice steady and unwavering as he met the Duke's piercing gaze. "Your Majesty, I appreciate the offer, but I must respectfully decline. I see myself as a student, someone who seeks knowledge and growth. I'm not ready for titles or the weight of responsibilities."
The Duke's smile was unreadable, but the words that followed were spoken with the gravity of someone who had seen everything and expected nothing less. "Very well. The offer remains open. Join whenever you wish."
He turned toward the butler, his tone taking on the familiarity of command. "Send all my contact details to Dan."
His eyes lingered on Dan for a heartbeat longer, a flicker of something unspoken in their depths. "It was a pleasure meeting you. If only one of my sons had the same hunger to grow as you do..." He trailed off, his gaze sweeping the table, and with a soft sigh, he rose, leaving the table behind.
Dan sat still, a strange sense of disquiet gnawing at him. Had he angered the Duke? He had turned down an offer that most would have fought for, yet the Duke had left without a glance at his untouched meal. The silence that followed felt suffocating.
Then, as if by some unseen cue, Second brother's voice broke the tension. "Oh, I thought you'd gotten busy at a brothel or something. At least this is better than that!" pointing to Brent.
Laughter erupted around the table, the lighthearted banter filling the room like a wave crashing against a rocky shore. For a moment, it felt like nothing had happened, and the weight of the conversation lifted, replaced by familiar teasing and wit.
But Dan's thoughts strayed, wandering to a simpler time—the days when his sister's laughter had been the loudest sound in the room, when life was free of politics, titles, and unspoken expectations.
As the dinner wound down, the eldest son—always the one to challenge—turned to Dan, his eyes gleaming with a challenge of his own. "I'm curious—how strong are you? After dinner, care for a sparring match?"
Dan hesitated, his pulse quickening. The Duke and the Main Commander had spoken highly of him, but this was something different. Something personal. Reluctantly, he agreed, thinking it would be a friendly contest.
Later, they gathered in the training grounds, an open expanse stretching beneath a velvet sky pricked with stars, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of hanging lanterns that swayed like fireflies caught mid-dance. The air was heavy, not just with anticipation, but with the faint scent of oil and sweat — a lingering echo of countless past battles. It clung to their skin, warm and metallic. The ground underfoot was dry and cracked in places, crunching faintly beneath booted steps, as if whispering secrets of the warriors who had fought there before. Every breath felt shallow, taut — as though the earth itself had drawn in its lungs and refused to exhale, waiting for something to break the stillness. The guards stood rigid, their armor glinting dully like polished stone under the lanternlight, while the butlers and other onlookers formed a hushed, reverent circle, their eyes fixed forward, unblinking. It wasn't just a fight they awaited — it was a spectacle, a proving.
The signal was given. Dan's first strike was swift, calculated—a blur of motion as he unleashed Thousandfold Grasp, his body a blur of fluidity as he melded it with Sky Drift Mirage, moving faster than the eye could follow. The elder brother, seasoned in battle, summoned a protective shield with practiced ease, his movements sharp as steel.
The collision of their powers was deafening. Dan's blow hit with such force that the air itself seemed to shudder, dust erupting in a cloud around them. The shield cracked under the pressure, and the elder brother stumbled back, his eyes wide in surprise.
But that moment of vulnerability was brief. The elder brother, his own aura surging with power, drew a knife, slashing through the air with deadly precision.
Dan's instincts kicked in. He leapt into the air, weaving the Vile Blaze into his movements. He tossed a cloth at the elder brother, a distraction. As the cloth tore, flames erupted, catching the elder brother off guard. He was forced to raise his shield again, retreating several steps, but the air shimmered with the heat of the fire.
In a heartbeat, Dan was no longer on the ground. With a flash of movement, he exploited Sky Drift Mirage's aerial advantage, striking from above, landing a blow to the elder brother's chest that sent him crashing into the earth with an audible thud, the ground cracking beneath the force of the impact.
Dan landed gracefully, poised for the next strike, but the elder brother's aura flared—doubling, then tripling in intensity. It was a reminder of the immense power that lay hidden in the Duke's family. A reminder that he was still far from his own limits.
Before the elder brother could retaliate, a butler intervened with remarkable speed, halting the match.
The elder brother, still gasping for breath, extended his hand to Dan. "You won," he admitted. "If I'd fought with my full strength from the start, it might have been different."
Dan nodded silently, not quite satisfied, not yet certain of his true strength. The elder brother left, and Brent, beaming with pride, rushed to Dan's side. "Incredible! You defeated my older brother—he's the strongest of our generation!"
Brent's praise rang in his ears, but Dan couldn't help but wonder—had he truly reached his peak? If the elder brother had fought with all his might from the beginning, would the outcome have been the same?
A few days later, Dan made his decision to return to his own planet. The silence that surrounded his departure felt heavy, as if the weight of the Duke's household lingered in the air long after he had left.
The three brothers had spoken kindly to him, but the sisters—too young to grasp the intricacies of family politics—had observed quietly, their eyes following his every move. The silence of their departure felt like an echo, a reminder of the delicate balance he had just entered.