Chapter 55: Damian Blacksun [3]

Damian stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the sunlit floorboards beneath his boots.

He knew his little sister was right. Deep down, he had asked himself that exact same question a hundred times over the past few weeks.

In the cold, unforgiving Northern Continent, they truly had nothing.

They possessed no land to call their own, no ancestral property, and no family backing.

Their parents had perished years ago during a localized beast surge, leaving them as two helpless orphans struggling to survive on the fringes of civilization.

So why couldn’t he simply walk up to the gates of Heaven’s Net Castle and offer his sword to the new Viscount?

Was it his foolish pride as a young, self-made Ranker refusing to bow to noble blood?

Was it because he harbored grand, unreachable dreams of exploring the wild continents as a free blade?

Or was it something far more grounded—a deep-seated fear that a powerful, ancient ducal bloodline like the Darkstars would treat him as just another disposable commoner pawn, undervaluing his worth and throwing his life away in their endless political games?

He didn’t know.

The conflict burned in his chest, leaving him trapped in deep, silent contemplation.

Annie watched her older brother in quiet understanding.

She didn’t press him further, remaining still on the edge of the bed so as not to disrupt the heavy thoughts clouding his mind.

Then, a sudden sound shattered the silence of the room.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The sharp, measured rapping against the wooden door echoed through the small bedchamber.

Damian’s eyebrows furrowed tightly. His relaxed posture vanished in an instant, replaced by the lethal, coiled tension of a trained warrior.

Both he and Annie turned their heads simultaneously, their eyes locking onto the locked door.

"Damian..." Annie whispered softly, her blue eyes widening. "Were you expecting someone?"

Damian shook his head firmly. "No one." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Without wasting a single second, Damian gestured toward the small washroom at the back of the chamber. "Get in the bathroom, Annie. Lock the door and do not come out unless I call you."

Annie obeyed without a word of argument.

She scrambled off the bed with silent, nimble steps and darted into the washroom, pulling the wooden door shut behind her with a faint click.

Once his sister was hidden, Damian reached down.

SHING.

With absolute stealth, he pulled his arming sword four inches from its leather scabbard, the cold steel gleaming in the sunlight.

He glided across the floor without making a single sound, stepping to the side of the doorframe while keeping his center of gravity low.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The knocking came a second time, firm and unhurried.

Damian narrowed his eyes, inhaling slowly as he finally called out, his voice sharp and laced with hidden aura.

"Who is it?"

"Open the door, Damian Blacksun," a calm, clear voice responded from the hallway. "We came Heaven’s Net Castle."

"Heaven’s Net Castle?" Damian’s frown deepened into a harsh glare. His mind raced as he tried to figure out how anyone could have tracked his exact location to this obscure inn.

"Why would someone from the Heaven’s Net Castle be seeking out a foreign mercenary like me?"

The voice outside replied instantly, carrying a quiet, undeniable weight that seemed to vibrate through the thin wood.

"The Lord Viscount wishes to have a word with you."

’Huh?!’

Damian’s icy-blue eyes widened in absolute shock.

The Lord Viscount?

The supreme ruler of the Myrain Viscounty was personally seeking him out in a second-rate inn?

Realizing the absurdity and gravity of the situation, Damian abandoned all thoughts of an ambush.

He sheathed his sword with a crisp click, unlocked the heavy latch, and pulled the wooden door wide open.

The moment the doorway cleared, Damian instinctively staggered back half a step.

Standing in the dimly lit hallway were two figures draped in heavy, dark traveling cloaks with black hoods pulled low.

But as the lead figure reached up with a gloved hand and pushed his hood back, Damian’s breath hitched in his throat.

Emerging from the shadows was a striking, handsome teenager with damp, crimson hair framed against fair skin, and eyes that glowed like molten, liquid gold.

A Trueborn Darkstarian.

The unmistakable, terrifying features of the legendary dragon-blooded lineage.

And the tall, imposing figure standing silently half a step behind the youth was even more terrifying.

Even with his cloak fully drawn, the man radiated a dense, oppressive pressure that made the surrounding air feel heavy.

Damian’s refined senses as a Sword Runner screamed in warning—the man guarding the youth was without a doubt a high-tier entity.

A certified Sword Master.

The sheer reality of who was standing in his doorway crashed over Damian like a tidal wave.

Abandoning every trace of hesitation, Damian dropped straight down onto his knees, slamming his right fist against the wooden floorboards and bowing his head low before the crimson-haired youth.

"I greet the Lord Viscount!" Damian uttered, his voice tight with deep reverence and alertness.

"Hmmm..."

Craig stepped smoothly across the threshold, his boots making a quiet sound against the floor as he entered the modest inn room.

He looked down at the kneeling Black Knight, his dark golden eyes scanning the young man’s frame with a calm, penetrating gaze that seemed to pierce straight into Damian’s soul.

"Do you know me, Damian Blacksun?" Craig asked smoothly.

His voice was remarkably calm, yet it carried an innate, terrifying authority that filled every corner of the room.

Ser Hughway stepped inside right behind his liege, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his broadsword.

His sharp, veteran eyes scanned every inch of the bedchamber—the open basket of fresh herbs, the adjusted curtains, and the locked washroom door—evaluating every potential threat with silent precision.

Still bowing his head low against the floorboards, Damian answered immediately, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"No, my Lord," Damian replied honestly, his voice steady despite the intense pressure.

"I do not know your personal name... but I know that the newly appointed Viscount of Myrain is the Seventh Successor of the noble Darkstar Family."