"Who is that?"

It was a pompous celebration held at the very heart of the March of Tiernan.

A joyous occasion where the nobles socialize and drink, boasting about their accomplishments and their partsin making this celebration possible. Dancers, music, and the wine made the experience almost alien to the likes of the weak.

Peasants or lesser people will never experience this kind of occasion.

Why would they? Power is the currency for luxury.

Each one of the people in this grand hall, young or old, men or women, are all powerful people.

It doesn't matter whether their power originated from being born with noble blood; nobody cares as long as the end result is power. Unfair? Perhaps. At least Agnar thought so, but he didn't blame these people.

Ghosts tear down Humanity and remind them of one simple fact.

That survival doesn't weigh fairness on its scales.

So, instead of blaming the world, he decided to do whatever it takes to obtain power.

And now, he has one foot inside.

"Ah, that's Young Master Deklan," the person beside him, another Exorcist hired as soldiers, said. "He's one of the Tiernans. Up until recently, he was rumored to become the heir, but he failed to become an Exorcist. It's the reason why Young Master Callen is now more active. The reason why we're hired."

He then tapped the bottom of his glass on Agnar's chest, "Don't get close to him, it's political suicide."

'One of the Tiernans…?' Agnar clenched his jaw.

For the first time in his entire life, despite never blaming the people who were lucky to be born within the circle of luxury and power, seeing Deklan irked him greatly. Across the hall, Deklan was standing alone in the corner.

A golden spoon was within his reach all his life, but one simple failure rendered him like this.

He was a part of the Tiernan Family, the lords of this land.

Nobody in this hall has a greater background than him, and yet, he was isolated.

Despite not being an Exorcist, someone normal, he could still demand respect from others because he has the blood of the Tiernan inside him. Uncomfortable as it would be, the people here couldn't refuse if he tried talking to them.

But he instead isolated himself.

Unlike the other Tiernans, his shoulders were rolled forward, he seemed uncomfortable in the presence of so many people, he couldn't socialize, or even hold eye contact. His frame was frail, and he stood in the corner awkwardly like a lost puppy.

Just then, one person approached.

A woman.

Elegant, beautiful, the kind of beauty that seized all attention the moment she stepped into any room.

She walked through the grand hall like a Goddess of Snow, almost like she was gliding.

Surprisingly, she was heading to the frail and isolated young master.

A few people tried to greet or talk to her, but her focus was unwavering on Deklan.

And when she arrived, Deklan's eyes shone like bright stars.

'Hmm, that's it… At least you use your power one way or another,' Agnar nodded—happy that Deklan is not completely oblivious to power, even though he was surrounded by it. Using his power to gain the fascination of a woman, that's one of the doors that power opened.

Shallow as it may be, it doesn't matter.

So long as Deklan was not completely neglecting the power he possessed, then it's fine.

But as Agnar was about to turn away, the crowd gasped.

Splash—!

Agnar stopped after making one step away.

He slowly turned to Deklan's direction again and sucked in a cold breath at what he saw.

To everyone's surprise, the beautiful woman poured wine onto Deklan's head, drenching him.

She said something more, but Agnar couldn't hear what she said.

He was too far away.

"Oh… there goes the last shred of his dignity."

"Is she insane? Isn't she supposed to be his fiancée?"

"Not anymore after this."

"I heard the rumors—Young Master Deklan failed his last chance to become an Exorcist. She must have caught wind of it and decided to cut ties completely. But… to do it here… at a celebration right in front of Marquis Victor? That's insane."

Agnar overheard the hushed exchange from a nearby cluster of noblewomen.

He shifted his gaze and found the Marquis himself standing rigid, eyes fixed coldly on the scene that was unfolding before them.

Despite Deklan's failings, Agnar understood that the marquis wouldn't let this slide easily. To humiliate Deklan in public wasn't only a slight against Deklan—it was also a slap of House Tiernan itself. Victoria might have thought she was discarding, but she'd forgotten that the trash beat the Marquis' blood.

This would not end well.

But there was no movement from Marquis Victor.

It was then that his eyes fixated on the First Lady, who had her arm coiled around the marquis' arm.

She was also looking at the scene, but remained completely still.

Only then did Agnar realize that Victoria wasn't insane for doing this; she had the backing of the First Lady, which was why she was so daring to do this. 'Even though the marquis might look calm, he's no doubt upset. I can see it in his eyes.'

For some reason, Marquis Victor couldn't help his son outright.

Had that not been the case, he would've already been walking towards Deklan right now.

'He needs help,' Agnar's gaze snapped back to Deklan, still rooted in place, wine dripping steadily from his hair onto the carpet. 'You still carry Tiernan blood in your veins… Look at your father. Turn to him. Ask him for his help!'

Agnar was basically screaming inside his head.

For someone who wanted to be in Deklan's position so badly, he knew what to do in this situation.

If Deklan asked for help, Marquis Victor had no choice but to help.

But he didn't.

Before Agnar's widening eyes, Deklan cried and ran towards the door, towards him.

Despite having an overwhelming background, with multiple choices to either ask his father for help or even walk out in a dignified manner, Deklan chose to run to the entrance with tears in his eyes. And at that moment, Agnar's eyes turned cold.

'Ah… I get it. He's simply a trash wimp.'

Tug!

Just as Deklan was about to bolt past, Agnar's foot shot out, tripping him mid-strike.

Deklan pitched forward and hit the carpet face-first.

Once he recovered, he looked up and stared at Agnar through his tear-filled eyes.

It was a pathetic look.

One that Agnar absolutely disdains.

But their gaze only met for a few seconds before it was shattered by the muffled laughter and sidelong glances of the guests—looks that stripped Deklan bare, treating him like gutter trash. Unable to endure the weight of those judging stares and whispered mockeries, he shoved himself up from the carpet and bolted.

As Agnar watched Deklan's back disappear around the corner, he sneered in contempt.

Deklan will be swallowed by power soon enough, that's Agnar's conclusion.

…

'As expected, he was exiled by the House of Tiernan in shame, sent away to be forgotten,' Agnar thought inside, his eyes narrowing. 'He'll either die unmourned or live a hollow, meaningless life. But what is this… how did it come to this? How did he climb back up?'

Agnar was now staring at the same person he had been staring at back in that celebration.

It was the same person he saw isolated in the corner.

But the difference between then and now was outright ridiculous.

Deklan's shoulders were no longer rolled forward; his back was straight like an arrow and strong.

His stance was wide as he held the shadow spear, making his frame look massive.

And then there were his eyes.

Back then, he couldn't even hold eye contact with a servant, but now, he was holding eye contact without a problem. Moreover, the fire in his eyes showed more than confidence and resolve; they also showed utter relaxation.

Almost like he was used to battling stronger opponents.

Agnar thought Deklan was lucky to have survived Rock.

Or perhaps there was someone powerful who was protecting him to use him because of his blood.

Because of that, he came here with the preparation to kill Deklan's protector—not fight Deklan himself. That earlier throw hadn't meant to wound; it was bait, designed to flush the shadow into the open. Even if the shadow didn't come out, it would also ended Deklan outright.

A perfect move with no downside.

In fact, he was more worried about the masked woman beside Deklan, who had an aura to her.

One that made it certain that she was an Exorcist.

But the frost lance was parried by Deklan himself like it was nothing.

"Don't tell me, is he really the one who single-handedly defeated Rock's group?" Agnar's eyes widened; this didn't cross his mind at all, considering how meek Deklan was. Then, his eyes trailed to the side, at the people lying on the ground, "And those people… Deklan killed them?"

Agnar knew that those were Victoria's people.

No doubt about it.

Her purpose here was clear; she came to warn Deklan about him.

But for her people to get killed and wounded in the process, coupled with Deklan's stark change, it was obvious that he was the one who did that, since the masked woman looked clean. It seemed the change was bigger than Agnar had first assumed.

This was no minor change.

The Deklan he knew couldn't harm a fly—killing people should be an impossibility for him.

But he managed to do it.

And seeing how he doesn't seem to be shaken by the killings, Agnar understands it now.

'I can't treat him like the same person,' He thought.

"Not going to attack me first?" Deklan's voice echoed again, as his eyes blazed with killing intent. "In that case, I'll come to you!"

Bang—!

A thunderous crack split the air suddenly.

And almost at the same time, Agnar's eyes widened as a bullet seared past, piercing through the air and aimed squarely for his forehead. In the nick of time, he jerked his head aside—feeling the hot stroke of its passage, 'Where did that come from? I never saw a gun!'

Just earlier, he only seen that Deklan was holding the shadow spear.

No gun to be seen.

Heck, there wasn't even a holster or even any place for him to hide the gun, so this was surprising.

"A hunter always strikes first, that's their very first advantage."

Swoosh—!

Agnar's eyes flicked up.

And they widened in surprise to see Deklan was already upon him.

His shadowy spear was already pulled back, charged, and ready to strike with all his strength.

"Wasting that crucial advantage, what kind of hunter are you? Bad mistake."

CLANG!

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