บท 10: One Prisoner Please

[You have gained 0.3% Protagonist Progression.]

Seven squinted his eyes. His frown deepened as he swiped the system screen aside and glanced at the updated progress bar.

[Protagonist's Progression: 2%/100%]

"Still no clear pattern…"

Up until now, he still had no idea how it progresses. Was it tied to the events that are related to the protagonist, decisions, or the narrative itself? He couldn't tell.

But he knew one thing for sure, and that is the progress was agonizingly slow.

"All of you are to learn from this moment."

The Archduke raised his right arm and extended it to the area where his children lined up.

"Not one of you shall question the blood that flows through our veins."

Seven caught a few glances at his older siblings. He could hear their murmurs of acknowledgements, though some did frown a little.

Then, the Archduke shifted his gaze towards Seven. But before he could speak, the entrance creaked open and interrupted the moment.

Creak.

A man entered, and everyone's attention were immediately focused on him. He was dressed in a dark blue livery, and he wore a mask that concealed his face. He walked forward. His boots echoed against the marble floor as he approached the throne.

He then knelt on one knee and bowed his head.

"I greet the Archduke."

Masked persons like him were the messengers of the household. There are only a total of seven, and they are incharge of gathering information about all the seven continents. They are also the one incharge of communicating through sending and receiving letters.

"Speak."

The Archduke's eyes narrowed. With a stern expression, he curled his fingers over the armrest of the throne.

A sealed letter reflected tha faint sunlight as the man extended his hands.

"The reply from the fourth child has arrived."

"..."

The Archduke didn't reply, but his gaze said it all. It was also the same for everyone who waited for the letter to be unfolded with bated breaths. The siblings frowned. It was someone none of the siblings expected to hear.

The fourth child.

Someone that was rarely spoken about within the household. A ghost in the lineage, or so they said. The siblings exchanged uneasy glances.

A psychopath.

The only memory they shared with the fourth child was when she turned five years old, he day when the halls of the mansion was painted red. The day where every servant who crossed her path met their ends.

The day where a five year old girl was labeled as lunatic.

After all, she didn't cry nor scream any remorse. She simply killed. Methodically. Mercilessly.

And by the time the knights subdued her, her small hands were already drenched in blood.

It was too late to turn back.

Even the Archduke himself ordered her exile that very night. But she wasn't punished, nor was she disowned. She was simply… sent away.

…To a place where only the Archduke knew.

Yet now, after more than a decade, her presence was here carried by a letter.

"She… still exists? I thought she was buried in a hole somewhere."

"Quiet. Do you want the father to hear you?"

"So what? She's not our sister. She's a monster."

As the siblings exchanged whispers, Seven spoke nothing but just stood in silence. It didn't make sense—there are already seven of them here, yet there's still another one.

"I thought… I was the seventh…"

Clenching his fists, he shifted his gaze back to the man who finally opened the letter and began to read the content aloud.

"My decision is final, shitty Father. You speak of stains on our bloodline, as if my existence is not already one. But remember this:

A sword does not question the hand that wields it.

Magic. Swordsmanship. They are but tools to dominate. To kill! And if Eden possesses both, then she's a masterpiece.

So, I stand against her banishment! Ahhh… I can't wait to use her blood to paint the—"

"Stop."

The Archduke interrupted, and the man stopped reading the letter. Bowing his head, he carefully folded the letter and placed it in the floor.

"I have delivered the message, Archduke. I humbly request permission to take my leave."

Without any second thought, the Archduke waved his hand.

"Granted. You may go."

Bowing his head one more time, the man turned his hell and walked away. His footsteps faded into the distance.

Step…

For a moment, there was silence, only broken by the rhythmic sound as the Archduke tapped his fingers against the armrest, his gaze surveying his children.

His gaze landed at Eden, still kneeling, and she immediately straighten her posture.

"Eden Hart. Your siblings speak in your favor."

"Thank you, Arch—"

"However, words carry no weight without proof."

"I understand, Archduke. I will not fail."

The air grew colder. Seven's eyes burned as he activated Theia's Eye. As he did, the hall shifted in his perception, and he could feel it—intense currents of aura crashing against one another in chaotic torrents.

The source was unmistakable.

The Archduke. The pressure bore down on him, a silent declaration of power from a man who stood at the top.

Six gates.

He could see six aura gates inside the Archduke's body. The seventh gate, the pinnacle of swordsmanship, remained closed. And though it sounded deceptively simple, it was anything but.

In all the known history of the seven continents, only a handful of swordsmen ever achieved it. Recalling his memory about the novel, this generation only has one swordsman who stood at the summit and opened the seventh gate.

…The Emperor of the First Continent.

'I still have a long way to go…'

As if noticing Seven's gaze, the Archduke turned his full attention at him.

"And you, Seven Hart."

"Yes, Archduke."

He took a step forward.

"Tell me. What do you believe defines a Hart?"

Seven froze. For a long moment. His mind raced as he searched for an answer that, again, wouldn't seal his fate. But none came. His mind was dry, and so was his mouth. But then, as if by instinct, he smiled faintly and raised his head.

"A Hart wields the sword as a heart, and forges forward no matter the path."

"..."

No one dared to speak. Even the Archduke said nothing, and only offered a curt nod.

'Damn it. Was it too corny? Was it—'

"The ceremony is over."

The Archduke interrupted his thoughts.

"Prepare yourselves. The next time we gather, I will tolerate nothing less than results. You may leave."

The seventeen knights in ceremonial armor were the first to leave. Their polished weapons gleamed in the sunlight until they disappeared beyond the grand entrance.

Next were the Hart siblings. One by one, they bowed before the Archduke before turning to leave as they murmured quietly among themselves.

Eden, however, remained still. She just stood up, gazed briefly on Seven, before she turned it back to the Archduke. The Archduke nodded faintly, giving her unspoken permission to depart.

With measured steps, she walked past Seven.

"You've changed."

"..."

She then walked out of the hall. Her presence left a chill in the air.

Seven lingered. He was the last to leave. But before he could take a step towards the door, the Archduke called for him.

"Seven."

"Yes, Arch—"

"Father."

For a moment, he paused.

"...Yes, Father."

The Archduke leaned back in his throne.

"The founding head. The first Hart. He was indeed a magic swordsman."

Seven's eyes flickered with faint surprise. He did think about it, so it wasn't entirely unexpected. But hearing it from the Archduke himself still felt significant.

"But… it is not a fact known to the world. It was never written in the history books, nor passed down through our bloodline. None of his descendants, myself included, awakened magic after him. Until Eden."

"..."

"Eden is the first to carry both the blade and magic since the founding head. I did not think it was possible. And yet, here she stands."

The Archduke stood up from his throne.

"For that, I am… glad."

"I see. As expected of older si—"

"Now, what do you desire as a reward? Eden has informed me of your hard work. You've proven yourself worthy of recognition."

Seven's thoughts momentarily drifted to Eden. Of course, she had mentioned his progress. She always seemed to keep an eye on him, even when he tried to avoid unnecessary interactions.

'But this is so random…'

He squinted his eyes.

"Reward?"

"Yes. You may take a reward from the treasury."

The Hart Treasury. a legendary vault said to hold centuries' worth of relics, treasures, and ancient artifacts from the Hart family's long history.

Only a select few were ever permitted to enter.

It wasn't just a collection of gold and jewels but a repository of power—enchanted weapons and heirlooms.

For a brief moment, Seven considered the possibilities.

But then he shook his head.

"Father, I don't want a treasure."

The Archduke raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

He smiled, though faintly. But his smile slowly turned into a smirk, and his smirk turned into a laugh. The Archduke looked at him, unsure of what was happening.

Seven then stopped laughing.

"The basement."

"The basement?"

"Yes, Father. I want to take a prisoner from the basement."