Chapter 653: Chapter 654: He’s Honored
"So this is Damon Grey... he’s bolder than I imagined."
Lilith glanced at her grandmother, who was smiling at Damon with an amused twinkle in her eyes.
"Hmmm ahhhh..." Lilith held her face with her palm, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"He is quite interesting... I can see why you’re so smitten with him. Girls your age always like the contrarians, the ones with a rebellious streak..."
Her grandmother teased with a gentle laugh.
Lilith bit her lips, lowering her gaze.
"I’m... not smitten..."
Her voice was soft, though her flushed expression betrayed her.
Lilith’s father sighed, saying nothing. He still wore the same tired expression with the bags under his eyes, watching quietly.
’So that’s Ranar’s son ...’
But he wasn’t the only one looking at Damon, who was clearly trying to make a statement before all present.
Cassian leaned slightly toward the Grand Duke.
"Should we..."
"Jahahah! That’s my boy out there!" the Grand Duke roared with laughter, slamming his feet against the ground.
"Look at him, showing them who’s boss. This is how a man should be!"
Cassian wisely shut his mouth. Clearly, the old man was encouraging this kind of behavior rather than restraining it.
"Well, who wasn’t wild in their youth..." Annalise muttered under her breath, her eyes following Damon with faint amusement.
On the floating pavilion of the Moonveil royal family, Sylvia giggled like a little girl, her soft, distant gaze fixed on Damon. Her mother watched helplessly, while her father glared with growing irritation at the young man in the distance.
Damon had already captured everyone’s attention before his speech had even truly begun.
He raised his hooded head, his movements deliberate.
His voice rang out cold and serious.
"Now, they tell you the War Games are about honor, glory, courage. Hah. Let me tell you a secret. War has never been about any of those things. Honor doesn’t mean anything when you lay dying on the battlefield."
The air seemed to thicken, and murmurs rippled faintly among the crowd.
"War is about killing. War is about who can walk out of the flames still breathing.... That’s why I’m going to make one simple fact clear to you. So listen up."
He raised his voice, the words striking like a blade across the silence.
"I don’t care if you’re a noble or a commoner. I don’t care who your father is, how much your family is worth, the size of your land, or how expensive your armor is. If you face me, death is not just a possibility. It’s a promise."
The crowd suddenly went silent. Nobles and commoners alike froze, staring. Damon was making a bold declaration, stripping away the invisible shield of nobility. He was making it clear that if they crossed blades with him, he would kill them regardless of who they were.
"So, to my rivals out there, to the swordsmen, the mages, the beasts in human skin... come at me. I don’t care if you’re stronger, faster, or shinier than me. You bleed the same color. And I’ll make sure the dirt remembers your blood."
The silence deepened. Damon knew exactly what he was doing. He was challenging the untouchable nobility who held power to oppress the adventurers, who were forbidden to kill noble heirs even in battle.
The whole setup disgusted him. Two enemies could face each other on the battlefield, yet only one side was not allowed to kill because of fear of retaliation.
The murmurs swelled louder.
"Life and death are nature’s law. War is a product of the Goddess’s law. Yet we live in a revolting culture where some lives are worth more than others on this battlefield."
His eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"But make no mistake. If you cross me, if you stand in my way, I’ll show you the truth about what a War Game really is."
Damon chuckled softly, and a chilling killing intent spread outward, his shadows spreading through the pavilion floors and walls. Those destined to face him felt their bodies turn cold.
"Some of you may die, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make."
He smirked casually, spreading his arms wide as if mocking the entire stage, as though he were receiving a king’s welcome.
"Let’s skip the speeches, skip the parades, and skip the boring rules. Let’s just... start the damn games already."
He lowered his hands, his voice echoing in finality.
"Let the Goddess decide our life and deaths."
The whole crowd was silent, stunned into stillness. Not a word was spoken until one adventurer glanced at his peers. Slowly, he began to clap. From the corner belonging to the adventurers and commoners who had no status, roars and cheers broke out like thunder.
The nobles sneered, some laughing mockingly, some cheering, some jeering. It was a tough crowd, divided in opinion, but Damon didn’t care.
The journalists eagerly scribbled notes, their quills scratching furiously across parchment.
The master of ceremony hurriedly stepped forward.
"We are opening the grounds for questions!"
The journalists turned immediately to Damon, the center of the stage.
"Can we ask a few questions, Lord Ascendant?"
Damon raised his hand casually.
"One question per person."
A journalist in the front row spoke first.
"Young Lord Ascendant, this is your first War Game. The world is watching. How do you feel stepping into such a stage?"
Damon shrugged his shoulders.
"How do I feel?... Hungry. I skipped breakfast."
Laughter erupted from the adventurers and commoners. Nobles groaned, shaking their heads, while Cassian buried his face into his palm.
"Young Lord, the Grand Duke himself named you vanguard leader for the parade. How does it feel to carry such a burden?"
Damon lifted his hand lazily.
"He was honored..."
The Grand Duke coughed into his hand, trying not to laugh, while Cassian glared at him with irritation.
"Ahem. Ahem." The old man cleared his throat, feigning composure.
"Do you believe you will win the War Games?"
Damon chuckled, tilting his head slightly.
"Was there ever a doubt?"
A female journalist held up her notepad, raising her right hand.
"We heard you received your golden ticket from the legendary Seras Blade herself. The world needs to know... what’s your relationship with her?"
Damon paused, his eyes flicking toward Seras Blade, who sat in her pavilion with a chilling smile curling her lips.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Duke Cassian shaking his head vigorously, his expression saying plainly, ’Don’t do anything strange.’
Damon chuckled, ignoring the warning.
"My relationship with her... well, I’m not her student or anything like that. I guess you could say I’m in the kind of relationship where I know how soft her rear feels."
The arena fell into dead silence.
Cassian facepalmed hard, taking a deep breath as a radiant sword of light appeared in his hand. He was ready to fight Seras if he had to. The journalists, and anyone with even the faintest inkling of Seras’s brutal reputation, turned toward her pavilion with visible dread. Some had already begun fleeing to take cover.
Seras’s lips moved.
Then she chuckled.
Then laughter erupted from her lips, echoing out across the arena.
"Hahahahahaha... ahhhh..." She wiped a small teardrop from the corner of her crimson eye.
"That wasn’t bad. But I’m still not impressed. You’re going to have to do a lot more than that. Though... you’ve just raised the bar a little higher."
Damon looked up with a sigh.
"Really... hmmm. You’re more patient than I thought you’d be. How have you still not gotten a—"
"I believe we should begin the grand event. We haven’t time to waste," Cassian cut him off sharply, stepping forward to the edge of his pavilion.
He turned to the imperial pavilion and bowed respectfully.
"Your Majesty, I humbly request the continuation of the ceremonies."
The emperor’s gaze lingered on Damon for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"I suppose so. It seems this War Game will not be a dull event."