“No,” Keter said first. Eslow crossed his legs and replied, “I haven’t said anything yet.” “I figured you were about to ask me to marry Henya.” Eslow’s question wasn’t just a question; it was a quiet demand for an explanation as to why Keter was refusing. His tone made it clear that if he couldn’t give a proper reason, there would be consequences. But Keter didn’t flinch, as it wasn’t the first time he had been in a situation . If you want to live as someone exceptional, this kind of threat is part of the job. Back in Liqueur, Keter had faced so many nobles trying to marry off their daughters to him that he could count them on both hands. If he included the women who had personally tried to pressure him into marriage, he would run out of toes too. They were all stronger than Keter at the time, both physically and politically. And every time, his answer was the same. His reason had always been the same, too, and that hadn’t changed, even if his opponent now was one of the Four Lords. “...A foolish vow. The demands of the strong are inevitable. As someone strong yourself, surely you’ve forced your will on others before. Are you going to live enjoying the privileges of power without accepting its responsibilities?” “I already have accepted the responsibilities of both imposing my will and of rejecting it.” “Then are you prepared to pay the price for rejecting my will?” Eslow stood up. He wasn’t holding a weapon, but that alone was enough to send pressure crashing down on Keter. It was like he was standing before a guillotine. However, Keter neither stepped back nor showed fear. He was used to this. To him, life had always been about stepping off the edge, even knowing what awaited below. “Isn’t that the fate of the exceptional?” Keter took a step forward, even though the pressure intensified. Eslow frowned. “It won’t just be your life. Your family and their title—they will suffer misfortune worse than death. All of it will be because you rejected me.” “I don’t believe that. If you bring ruin to Sefira, that’s your will, not the result of my refusal.” “Even so, Sefira will blame you.” “Blame born of ignorance is hollow. I don’t waste energy on that.” “Even if it’s your own family? Even if they hate you?” “It’ll be frustrating. It’ll hurt. But so what?” Keter stepped forward again. A thin red line appeared on his neck, seeping blood. He had endured even Norman’s attacks, yet now he was being sliced by Eslow’s killing intent alone. One more step and his head would fall—if Eslow didn’t pull back the killing intent. “Wishing for perfection in all things is the dumbest thing a person can do.” And Keter took that final step forward. Eslow genuinely liked Keter. His talent, his conviction, his lineage... even his insufferably arrogant personality struck Eslow not as irritating, but rather amusing. That was why he chose him as Henya’s match. He was convinced that a child born between Henya and Keter would possess exceptional gifts, and if he could weaponize Henya, who would bear such a child… Then the final piece to break free from Lillian’s shackles would be complete. It wasn’t a bad deal for Keter either. Henya was his daughter—the daughter of the Lord of the South. The tournament may have elevated Sefria’s prestige, but it remained the weakest among the noble families. But if Keter had the support of Eslow, everything could fall into place. In addition, Henya lacked nothing appearance-wise; she was undeniably attractive. Keter had no reason to refuse, yet he did. Before Eslow even said anything or mentioned any conditions, Keter took one look at Henya, all dressed up, and preemptively declined. Eslow was displeased. He did value Keter, but he was crossing a line. The rejection struck directly at his pride, especially the part about Keter claiming he had sworn never to live a life bound by coercion; that left Eslow speechless. Do you truly believe you can live up to something that even countless greats of this world could not? Even Eslow himself had failed to refuse Lillian’s coercion. But Keter spoke of living free of it, even saying he was going to accept the consequences. The insane belief that would not just cost him his life but the lives of those around him shocked even Eslow. If it had been mere bravado, he might have laughed it off, but Keter was sincere. And he proved it not with words, but with action. He met Eslow’s killing intent head-on without retreating or defending; he simply walked forward. Even with a blade to his neck, he imposed his will with his life on the line. Does he not realize that one more step would mean his head would roll on the floor? Keter knew that; he was an intelligent individual who had gone through metamorphosis. He knew better than anyone that taking that final step meant death. And yet, he took it without the slightest hesitation or trembling. In that moment, he reversed the power dynamic, forcing Eslow to withdraw his killing intent if he didn’t want Keter dead. Coercion was meant to be the right of the strong, and yet here was a so-called weaker man, coercing him. Eslow felt a surge of emotions he didn’t expect, like anger, fear… but also envy—envy that Keter, who could die from a single gesture of his hand, still staked his life despite knowing that fact. Death wasn’t fair; the more one had, the more unfair it was. Keter had a lot: he was only eighteen, was from a master family, was as strong as a six-star Grandmaster, and he had just been honored as the Bow of the South Bow. He had only just gained these things barely a day ago, yet he was ready to cast them aside without a second thought. To think I’d come to envy someone... Eslow had no intention of killing Keter before, but now, a part of him truly wanted to. The moment was perfect. It wouldn’t be he who killed Keter but he would simply die walking into the sword. As such, there wouldn’t be any issues with causality. If I cannot control you... then you may as well die, Keter. Eslow did not retract his killing intent. He hoped Keter would fall right here, but what Eslow failed to realize was that Keter wasn’t the only one whose life was on the line. A sharp slicing sound rang out, but it wasn’t from Keter’s neck. It came from Henya’s back. She had leaped forward to shield him. Flesh and bone tore as blood sprayed through the air. Even Eslow, for all his skill, had been so focused on Keter that he failed to react in time. His delay in withdrawing the killing intent left a deep wound on his own daughter’s back. Eslow instantly dispelled the killing intent and ran to check her injury. Thankfully, it wasn’t fatal. But what Henya saw in his eyes was not a father’s worry; it was the gaze of a warrior afraid his prized weapon had been damaged. The pain didn’t even register because she was so disturbed. “Why did you protect Keter?” Eslow scolded after making sure the injury wasn’t life-threatening. Henya, trying to stay unfazed by the pain, stood tall and replied, “I wasn’t protecting Keter. I was protecting myself.” “I don’t accept your coercion to decide my husband for me.” “Keter is a bad influence. You cannot act like that.” “I cannot live like Keter, but I’ve learned that I must be the one to protect what matters to me.” “I can’t marry Keter. I already have someone I care about.” Both Eslow and Keter were taken aback. Keter knew she meant Wid, a commoner boy. Is this the right moment to reveal such a thing to Eslow? To Keter, it was akin to presenting a pet as a lover, but he didn’t plan to stop her. Trying to do something right now would just be bothering her. You must have your reasons, Henya. Eslow glared at Henya. The blood from her back dripped onto the floor and formed a small pool, yet no one—not even Henya herself—cared. I can tell she’s telling the truth. She really has someone. But who is it? Eslow didn’t know everything about Henya, but he knew most. As far as he knew, there was no one close to her who could possibly be her lover. He knew about Wid, but he couldn’t imagine him as her lover since the difference in status was huge. Heyna was basically royalty, and he was a commoner. It was the kind of difference not even fairy tales dared to bridge. To Eslow, Wid wasn’t even a pet; he was more like a fish in a tank. How could he imagine his daughter with a fish? “You were seeing someone without telling your own father? I’m sad.” “You would never have allowed it.” “Of course not. Have you forgotten my rule? I don’t care who you bring, but they must be able to withstand a single strike from me.” Eslow nodded back and continued, “So tell me. Who is it?” “I can’t say right now.” “You’re not dating someone so weak they can’t survive a single strike from me... are you?” “Let me ask you one thing first. If you were trying to match me up with Keter, that means he can withstand a strike from you, right?” Henya turned to Keter, and so did Eslow. However, Keter simply shook his head. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚫𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚫𝕟𝕖𝕥 When he saw Eslow fighting the Undead during Deep Dark Fantasy, Keter realized his own level and knew he wouldn’t be able to block even one serious attack. And that wasn’t even Eslow at full power; he was analyzing the new types of Undead as he fought. Eslow barely used one percent of his full power. So Keter saying it was impossible wasn’t to support Henya, but simply the truth. Eslow also thought highly of Keter, but not that much. “In a year. Keter might be able to withstand it a year from now.” “Then please give me a year.” “One year from now, my partner will prove himself by surviving your blow.” Eslow pondered it, and Keter was stunned by it. What are you going to do? Keter could maybe manage it in a year, but Wid had no combat experience whatsoever. Even if he sold his soul a hundred times over, it wouldn’t be enough. Keter rarely called something impossible. But this was too reckless. Is she planning to flee? Or find another way out? Nothing about it sounded plausible. And for the first time in a while, Keter was genuinely curious about Henya’s plan.