Chapter 196: Chaos in The Sterling Mansion
Boom!
"Argh!"
Dan’s body crashed violently onto the stone floor.
The impact forced another mouthful of blood out of him as he rolled across the ground before finally coming to a stop near the wall.
His breathing was weak.
His body looked so miserable.
His shirt had long since been torn away, exposing skin covered with bruises, lash marks, and swollen wounds. Some injuries were still fresh while others had already begun healing, only to be reopened again.
For the past two days, Zara had shown him no mercy.
Not even a little.
Every ounce of humiliation he suffered during the unveiling ceremony...
Every disappointed gaze...
Every mocking whisper...
Every noble that looked at him like a fool...
All of it had been poured onto Dan.
"YOU FOOL!"
Zara roared.
Cognis surged through his arm.
The muscles in his fist tightened before he threw another punch.
Boom!
Dan’s head snapped sideways.
Blood splashed across the floor.
The Alchemist guards stationed around the chamber watched quietly.
Some looked away while some frowned slightly.
A few even felt sorry for Dan.
But none of them stepped forward.
None of them intended to stop their Young Master.
"You told me the Wallace Gang could handle everything!"
Zara grabbed Dan by the hair.
His fingers tightened, then he violently yanked him across the floor.
"You told me they could kill that fool easily!"
His voice cracked from rage.
"So how?! HOWWWWW?!"
Dan’s scalp burned from the force.
His body dragged helplessly across the stone tiles.
Before he could even recover a bit...
Zara stretched out a hand.
A nearby guard immediately understood, he moved sharply to were the torture weapons were arranged and handed over a leather whip without hesitation.
Crack!
The whip struck Dan’s back.
Crack!
Again.
Crack!
Again.
Zara didn’t care where the attacks landed.
His aim wasn’t controlled in the slightest and his mind wasn’t calm to make things worse.
The whip struck Dan’s shoulders.
His ribs.
His arms.
His face.
More blood gradually stained both the floor and Zara’s clothes.
Still, he continued.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each strike was enhanced by Cognis flowing through his arm.
Each strike carried enough force to tear his skin apart.
Dan didn’t scream anymore.
He couldn’t.
Two days of beatings had already broken him completely.
Whenever he reached the edge of death, healing elixirs were forced down his throat.
Then the torture would begin again.
Now he simply just lay there.
Breathing barely.
Tears slid down his cheeks without his control while his body no longer had the strength to move.
"I WILL KILL YOU!"
Crack!
"I WILL KILL YOU!"
Crack!
The whip descended again.
Zara’s face had become twisted.
His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was disheveled.
He looked less like a noble and more like a madman venting every frustration he possessed.
At the same time...
The entire Sterling Mansion had descended into total chaos.
Servants rushed through hallways carrying luggage, doors opening and closing repeatedly.
Footsteps echoed throughout the whole estate.
People were leaving.
And they were leaving fast.
"What’s going on?"
A young maid standing near the servant quarters reached out and stopped another maid who was practically running away with three bags hanging from her arms.
The rushing maid immediately turned around.
"You didn’t hear?"
Her face looked pale.
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the other maid by both shoulders.
"A guard from the Main Family arrived not long ago."
Her voice trembled.
"He delivered a message saying someone is coming to carry out a Rule of Judgment on this place."
"What?"
The confused maid blinked.
"A Rule of Judgment?"
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Is it some powerful Alchemist that’s coming?"
She glanced around.
More servants continued rushing out of the mansion. Some didn’t even bother hiding their panic.
"I don’t know."
The maid shook her head.
"But according to the Head Butler..."
She swallowed nervously.
"It’s only one person."
The confused maid froze.
"One person?"
"Yes."
The first maid nodded rapidly.
"I think he said it was that ghost Young Master we saw before."
For a moment...
Silence filled the space around the two of them.
The confused maid blinked twice, then laughed awkwardly.
"Wait...Isn’t that just a kid?"
She pointed toward the guards outside.
"The Baron hired additional guards recently. There are Alchemists everywhere. So, shouldn’t everything be fine?"
The words sounded weak even to her own ears.
The rushing maid stared at her, then her expression became serious.
"So that’s what you’re thinking?"
She tightened her grip.
"If you’re smart, you’ll stop thinking that way."
The maid swallowed.
"I don’t care if he’s only a kid."
She looked around nervously.
"There has been a lot of bad news after bad news surrounding this family."
Her voice dropped lower.
"Did you see what Young Master Zara did to those maids after returning? And Dan? The servant who... followed him since childhood?"
The maid’s lips trembled.
"He’s barely alive."
She leaned closer.
"The Mistress is crazy. The Lord is crazier and that demon upstairs is trapped inside a rage he can’t control."
The frightened maid released her shoulders, then quickly picked up her luggage.
"If the family wins, fine. That isn’t our concern."
She began walking away.
"But if they lose..."
She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t need to.
The fear on her face already said enough.
The confused maid watched her leave, then turned to look at the countless servants fleeing from the estate.
The fear started slowly creeping inside her...
Inside Zavier’s office...
"Father, I’ve already told you."
Zavier paced back and forth.
His foot tapped endlessly against the floor and his fingernails were nearly bitten apart.
"I’ll handle everything."
The holographic screen floating above the desk displayed an elderly man with gray hair.
The old Baron stared at his son.
Disappointment filled his aged eyes.
"So please." Zavier continued. "Take care of your granddaughter."
Beside him, Helen sat quietly on a sofa.
She wasn’t listening.
Or perhaps she wasn’t capable of listening anymore.
Her attention remained fixed on a small picture frame.
Inside it was a photograph of baby Ezra.
She gently traced the image with her fingers while quietly muttering words nobody could hear.
"How did you fall this badly, Zavier?"
The old man sighed.
His shoulders slumped.
"Not only did you fail to realize how much that child had changed..."
His eyes narrowed.
"You made a fool out of this family before the entire kingdom."
"It’s not my fault!"
Zavier shouted, his voice immediately filling the room.
"You know how much I wished for my heir, the next Baron of Sterling, to be someone capable of taking our family to a higher status."
Zavier’s voice rose as he spoke. His hands moved aggressively through the air as if he could somehow force his father to understand his reasoning through sheer emotion alone.
"And Ezra showed promise at first, but his weak body made him a wasted child. A piece of talent trapped inside a broken shell. I didn’t even realize when he became a ghost in this household at first."
His breathing became heavier.
The pressure that had been building inside him for days finally began leaking out.
"When the order for the Trial of Steel was announced, did you honestly expect me to risk my only useful son’s life?"
He pointed at himself.
"I had an opportunity to keep Zara safe. An opportunity to protect the child who actually mattered to me."
His expression twisted.
"So, I used the trash nobody cared about."
The words came out without hesitation.
"Remember? Even... you said it was like a stroke of luck."
Zavier leaned forward slightly, staring directly at the old man on the holographic screen.
His face was red from frustration.
His fists were clenched so tightly that the veins along his hands had become visible.
The old man listened quietly, then he released another long sigh.
The disappointment in his eyes deepened.
He slowly rubbed his forehead as if a headache was beginning to form.
"I know all of that."
His voice sounded tired.
"But after discovering Ezra was the more useful child... couldn’t you have used your brain and gotten rid of Zara instead?"
The room became silent.
For a brief moment, even the servants moving outside seemed far away.
Then...
"Father!"
Helen suddenly stood up.
The picture frame she had been holding shook in her hands.
Her eyes widened with disbelief as she stared at her father-in-law.
"How can you say something like that about Zara?"
Her voice cracked.
The pain in her expression was obvious.
"After losing Ezra, you want me to lose my other son too?"
She took a step forward.
"Never!"
Her scream echoed through the office.
"Never!"
"SHUT UP, YOU CRAZY WOMAN!"
Zavier finally exploded.
The anger he had been suppressing found a target.
His arm swung out violently.
Crash!
The picture frame flew from Helen’s hands.
It hit the floor.
Glass shattered in every direction.
Tiny fragments scattered across the carpet and stone tiles.
For a moment...
Nobody moved.
Helen froze.
Her eyes slowly lowered toward the broken frame lying on the floor.
The photograph of baby Ezra was now covered by shattered glass.
The image had been split by cracks running through it like spiderwebs.
Her body trembled.
Her lips parted slightly, then her pupils shrank.
It was as if she had just witnessed something horrifying.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
A scream tore out of her throat.
"Honey! What have you done?!"
Her hands flew to her face.
Terror filled her eyes.
Without caring about the sharp glass pieces covering the floor, she immediately dropped to her knees.
"No... no... no..."
She crawled forward.
Her trembling fingers reached for the broken frame.
One piece.
Then another.
Then another.
She carefully picked them up one by one.
Like somebody desperately trying to rebuild a broken puzzle.
Like somebody who believed that if she moved quickly enough, she could undo what had happened.
"Stop..."
Even Zavier’s expression changed slightly.
He stretched a hand forward, but Helen wasn’t listening anymore.
She couldn’t hear him.
Blood began appearing on her fingertips as the glass cut into her skin.
Yet she continued.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Red droplets fell onto the photograph.
Mixing with the image of the child she could never stop thinking about.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"My Ezra..."
Her voice shook.
"Your mother failed you..."
Another tear landed on the broken picture.
"My Ezra..."
She finally gathered the shattered frame against her chest.
The sharp edges dug into her arms.
Fresh blood stained her sleeves, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Or perhaps she simply didn’t care.
She held the broken picture like it was the most precious thing left in her life.
Zavier looked away.
For the first time since he was consumed by rage, he couldn’t bear watching her, his wife act like this.
"MAID!"
His shout thundered through the office.
No answer came.
"MAID!"
He shouted again.
Still nothing.
Outside the room, footsteps could clearly be heard.
Doors opened.
Doors closed.
People were moving everywhere throughout the mansion.
Yet nobody answered his call.
The servants who once rushed to every order were disappearing one after another.
"Lord Zavier."
The office door opened.
March hurried inside.
He immediately lowered his head in a respectful bow.
As he lifted his gaze, he noticed Helen kneeling on the floor.
Blood covered her hands and forearms.
The broken frame remained locked tightly against her chest, like a treasure she refused to let anyone take away.
"March."
Zavier’s face darkened.
His patience was gone.
"Where are the damn maids?"
He slammed his palm against the desk.
Bang!
The sound echoed throughout the office.
"Many of them have already left, and some of them are still leaving."
March’s reply came out nervous and careful.
He lowered his head even further as he spoke, afraid that saying the wrong thing might cause Zavier’s anger to fall on him next.
"WHY?"
Zavier’s roar shook the room.
The veins on his neck bulged slightly as he glared at March.
His eyes looked like they could swallow someone whole.
March instinctively took a small step back.
"They are scared, my Lord."
His voice almost came out as a whisper.
The fear inside him was obvious.
Ever since the unveiling ceremony, the entire mansion had felt different.
Servants spoke less.
The guards looked more nervous, even the atmosphere itself felt heavier.
"Scared?"
Zavier laughed angrily.
The sound carried no amusement.
"Are you kidding me?"
He slammed his hand on the desk again.
Several papers flew into the air.
"The messenger from the Main Family only said that trash was coming."
His eyes narrowed.
"So why are they scared?"
His fist tightened.
"Do they seriously think he’s capable of destroying this house? By himself?"
The room fell silent again.
March didn’t answer.
Because honestly...
Many people inside the mansion were thinking exactly that.
The image of Ezra standing inside Castle Hall Grandus and exposing everything before the whole kingdom was still fresh in their minds.
The image of Zara being thrown around like a rag doll during the spar was still fresh.
The image of the crowd supporting Ezra was also fresh.
Even if Ezra was only thirteen.
Nobody dared look down on him anymore.
"Just leave it."
The old Baron’s tired voice came from the holographic screen.
His shoulders looked heavier than before.
"Tell your butler to attend to Helen."
Then he looked directly at his son.
"And Zavier..."
His voice softened.
"Try convincing Ezra to change his mind."
The old man paused.
His eyes moved toward Helen, who was still hugging the broken frame while tears continued to flow down her face.
"Maybe sacrifice Zara to satisfy his anger or maybe just apologize. Anything."
His gaze returned to Zavier.
"We need to stop this before it gets worse."
The office became quieter once more with only Helen’s sobbing could be heard.
"It might take years for Ezra to forgive this family."
The old Baron sighed.
"Maybe decades, maybe he won’t fully forgive you until he becomes an adult and understands why you made that decision."
His expression became complicated.
"But at least he will still be alive. Blood is thicker than water."
The old man slowly stood from his chair.
"You don’t need to kill a genius like him, nor does this family need to be broken like this."
His voice carried obvious regret.
"I’ve said everything I can."
He adjusted his coat.
"Now I need to see if I can speak with the Elders I know. Perhaps I can help reduce some of the punishments given to this family."
The holographic screen flickered.
Then...
The call ended.
The image disappeared completely and silence returned into the room.
Zavier stared at the empty space where his father’s image had been only moments ago.
The darkness in his eyes deepened.
"You heard the man."
His voice came out cold.
March swallowed.
"Yes, my Lord."
He immediately moved toward Helen.
"Lady Helen..."
He crouched down carefully.
His hand reached toward the broken frame, but the moment he got close...
Slash!
The shard of glass in Helen’s hand cut across his cheek.
A thin line of blood appeared immediately.
March didn’t scream.
He didn’t even flinch.
Instead, he gently held her wrist.
"Lady Helen... it’s okay."
His voice was soft, calm and patient.
He slowly removed the broken frame from her hands while speaking to her like someone comforting a frightened child.
Helen’s shoulders trembled.
Her eyes remained fixed on the picture.
"My Ezra..."
She whispered.
"My Ezra..."
March could only sigh inwardly.
At the same time...
Zavier turned toward his wife.
The disgust on his face was impossible to hide.
Apologize?
Sacrifice Zara?
After all the humiliation that trash has caused me?
His jaw tightened.
The thought alone made his blood boil.
"Where is Zara?"
He suddenly asked.
March didn’t look up.
"Young Master Zara is inside the prison chambers."
"What about the mercenaries and Alchemists we hired?"
Another question came immediately.
His tone remained cold.
"My Lord."
March lowered his head.
"Most of them are already stationed outside the entrance and around the entire mansion."
"Good."
A malicious smile slowly appeared on Zavier’s face.
It wasn’t the smile of a father nor was it the smile of a noble.
It looked more like the smile of a cornered animal preparing to bite with everything it had to survive.
"That boy will die today, March."
His eyes moved toward the office door.
"He actually dares to invoke the Judgment Law."
A mocking laugh escaped him.
"He thinks he can challenge a Baron?"
He pointed at himself.
"A Baron. I fought my own siblings to become the heir of this family."
His voice grew louder.
"I secured profitable deals. I expanded our influence. I increased the wealth of this household."
His chest rose and fell.
"And now some child thinks he can walk into my house and demand justice?"
The anger inside him became visible.
"I will never allow a useless son of mine to destroy everything I spent my life building."
His hands adjusted his sleeves.
The expensive fabric rustled softly.
"All because he found a little talent and suddenly believes I should apologize to him."
He laughed.
A cold laugh.
"Let him come." The smile on his face widened. "And let him see how he dies."
He walked toward the liquor cabinet.
A bottle of wine sat there.
He poured himself a full glass and without any hesitation...
Gulp.
The entire wine disappeared in one go.
Boom!
The empty cup slammed onto the table.
The sound echoed throughout the office.
Outside the mansion...
Everything had already transformed into a battlefield waiting for its first shot.
Guards patrolled constantly.
Groups moved through the courtyards carrying swords, revolvers, and Kalthoff Repeaters.
Mercenaries occupied balconies.
Alchemists stood near key entrances.
The entire estate had become a fortress.
Every pathway was watched.
Every blind spot was covered.
Every movement was monitored.
All of those preparations.
All of those soldiers.
All of those weapons.
Could be seen from far away.
Far beyond the mansion grounds.
Far beyond the nearby streets.
Far beyond the rows of snow-covered buildings.
High above the city.
At the top of a building so tall it resembled a modern skyscraper from another world.
A boy knelt quietly.
Cold wind brushed against his coat.
Snowflakes drifted past him.
His breathing remained steady.
His finger rested near the trigger.
Through the scope of the Barrett M107...
Ezra watched everything.
Every guard.
Every patrol.
Every entrance.
Every mistake.
His dark eyes remained calm.
Like a hunter observing prey that had already stepped into the trap.
