Chapter 101: The Heir and the Successor

House Bluemoon — Command Chamber

Countess Luna sat at the head of the heavy oak table, with the Head Butler standing loyally beside her. Across from them sat Sir Peter and his two mercenary commanders, room steeped in quiet tension. The heavy iron doors creaked open, and Ethan entered the room. His eyes calmly swept over everyone present as he stepped toward the table and took the seat beside Luna.

Luna offered a warm smile, while Sir Ben, Commander Teresa, Sir Peter, Corbin, and Drake all offered respectful nods in greeting. Ethan gave a short nod in return as he settled into his seat.

"So," Luna began, looking into Ethan’s calm eyes. "What do you wish to say?"

Ethan turned his gaze toward the veteran mercenary leader. "Sir Peter, would you like to begin?"

Peter remained silent for a few seconds, looking into Ethan’s eyes and hesitating slightly.

"You can reveal what you need to," Ethan said, locking eyes with him. "I give you my word as the Successor that these are people you can trust implicitly."

Surprise rippled through everyone except the mercenaries. Unsure of what Ethan meant, the others exchanged questioning glances, but Ethan offered no further explanation right away.

A faint, knowing smile touched Sir Peter’s lips as he met the boy’s gaze. "It seems you already know..."

Ethan offered no reply, watching Peter with an unreadable expression.

Corbin glanced at Peter, silently questioning if it was truly safe to unveil their real identity. Drake, on the other hand, looked stunned that Peter was genuinely preparing to lay everything bare based solely on Ethan’s words.

Reaching into his tunic, Peter drew out a small, bone-carved artifact shaped like a dragon’s fang. The moment he channeled a pulse of aura into it, a translucent, shimmering barrier washed over the room, completely insulating their voices from the outside world.

"Everyone here knows me as the leader of the Wolf Mercenary Organization," Peter began, closing his eyes for a brief second as he weighed how much to disclose. "But that is only one identity. I am the current Vice-Leader of the ancient order founded by the Mercenary King."

"WHATTT?!" Teresa gasped, her hand violently snapping against the wooden armrest of her chair. Sir Ben’s fingers trembled, and even Luna’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in utter shock.

Every person present had grown up on tales of the Mercenary King—a legendary figure said to be among the strongest warriors humanity had ever produced. Among the scattered legends of his grand adventures, the most famous was his climactic battle against the Black Dragon, a beast that had ravaged entire kingdoms until the Mercenary King finally slew it. Legends claimed he sustained grievous injuries in the fight and left behind a secret organization before vanishing into history. For centuries, common belief held that the Mercenary King’s Order was nothing more than a myth spun by bards.

"To think it was true..." Luna whispered softly.

The pieces began to fall into place for her. She finally understood why Ethan had instructed them to spare the mercenaries, why Sir Peter showed such deep concern for Ethan, and why their martial forms shared a striking familiarity. It all started to align from the moment Ethan uttered the word Successor. The rest of the room, however, remained too bewildered to fully grasp the situation.

Sir Ben was still trying to wrap his mind around the revelation. "If you are the Vice-Leader of that legendary organization... why on earth did you involve yourselves with someone like Count Thorn?" he asked, unable to contain his confusion.

At the mention of Thorn, Drake’s jaw tightened, a flash of defensive anger crossing his face, but a stern glance from Peter kept him quiet. Suddenly, Peter gripped the edge of the table, a sharp throb of pain contorting his features.

"Allow me to answer that," Corbin interjected quickly, recognizing his leader’s distress. "The Vice-Leader suffers from an old internal injury, a lingering wound that has drained his strength for years. We spent a fortune seeking high-tier healers across the continent, but none could cure it. Count Thorn promised us an elixir capable of healing the Vice-Leader on the condition that we participate in the war. Even though we initially declined, watching the Vice-Leader’s condition worsen left us with little choice. In the end, we were the ones who urged him to accept Thorn’s offer."

Corbin shifted his gaze toward Ethan, pointing a steady finger. "The rest, as you know, unfolded on the battlefield. It was during the clash that the Vice-Leader recognized the truth—the Successor our order has searched for across centuries is the Black Knight standing before you."

"Young Master... no, Sir..." Sir Ben stammered, his mind reeling.

"Young Master Ethan... you are really the Successor?!" Teresa’s mouth hung open, her eyes locked on Ethan with an expression bordering on reverence. The Mercenary King had been her childhood idol.

Luna tapped her knuckles lightly against the wooden table, snapping her officers out of their stupor. She sensed that Ethan intended to reveal a few more things.

Recognizing the look in Luna’s eyes, Ethan slowly stood up from his chair.

"Let me formally introduce myself first," Ethan spoke, his voice quiet yet echoing with unquestionable authority.

"I am Ethan Ravencrest—Heir to House Ravencrest, and Successor to the Mercenary King."

BANG!

Every single person in the room, barring Ethan—scraped their chairs back and stood up with lightning speed. A few chairs clattered violently against the stone floor.

The mercenary commanders, who had maintained an air of stoic composure throughout the entire conversation, lost it completely. Drake’s eyes blew wide, stretching unnaturally. Sir Peter’s iron mask cracked. The man who had silently endured years of agonizing pain without uttering a single groan now stared at Ethan in complete bewilderment.

Luna, Ben, and Teresa stood frozen, disbelief plastered across their faces.

"Ravencrest...?" Luna murmured softly, her breath catching in her throat.

Ethan remained completely calm. Reaching into his collar, he pulled out the crest of House Ravencrest and laid it flat onto the center of the wooden table.

Hiccup! Hiccup!

Teresa suddenly began gasping for air, her mouth going completely dry as she reached blindly for a pitcher of water.

This... I did not see this coming at all. This is far more complicated than what I imagined, Peter thought, his mind racing.

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the suffocating tension surrounding the table, Drake leaned toward Corbin and whispered urgently, "How are we supposed to take the Successor back to our sanctuary if he’s a Ravencrest?! Won’t the Sword of the North slaughter us all? Should we just kidnap him and take him to the Supreme Leader?!"

Corbin slowly turned toward him, glaring with pure disbelief.

"Shut up, idiot."

A few heavy, agonizing minutes passed as the weight of the revelation settled over the chamber.

"Everyone, calm down," Ethan said smoothly.

He had expected them to be surprised, but the sheer level of panic in the room was bordering on absurd. Slowing their breathing, Peter and Luna were the first to compose themselves, motioning for the others to sit back down.

Once everyone was seated, Ethan continued. "Now, let us return to the matter at hand."

"As I mentioned, I originally traveled to House Bluemoon to discuss trade," Ethan continued, weaving the lie seamlessly, unable to reveal the full truth due to the System’s strict constraints. "Only to discover that Count Thorn was actively conspiring against your house."

Ethan explained the sequence of events, finally arriving at why he had instructed everyone to spare the mercenaries. "It was only recently that I acquired the legacy of the Mercenary King, and I suspected Sir Peter’s forces belonged to the ancient Mercenary King’s Order. That is why I ordered you to spare them at Blackstone Ravine."

Peter knew that the legacy chose its Successor on its own. Yet even he knew little about how the inheritance itself worked, and he highly doubted that even the Supreme Leader understood the full truth. Apart from the commandments and trials left behind for the Heir, the Order knew only a handful of things: the Successor would inherit the Mercenary King War Art, and an ancient prophecy claimed that fate itself would guide them to the Heir when the time was right.

The realization slowly spread across the table. Corbin and Drake finally understood why House Bluemoon had spared their lives.

To think the Successor foresaw and arranged every single piece of this outcome... Woah, I wish I could think like that, Drake thought, his gaze shining with absolute devotion, while Peter and Corbin analyzed the tactical brilliance behind the move.

Instinctively, Luna felt that Ethan wasn’t telling them the whole truth. Yet her trust in him remained absolute. She knew there was no logical reason for the heir of a Marquis House to get involved in a brutal war where the stakes were enormous, fighting with their life on the line for a house completely unrelated to his own just for the trade.

She knew that the elixirs Ethan handed them possessed immense value. If he wanted, he could have used House Ravencrest’s influence to approach other houses or directly sell them under their name—even Ducal Houses would be desperate to trade for such an elixir. Yet she couldn’t understand why he went out of his way to save House Bluemoon under the guise of trade. Why? Her thoughts drifted back to the Mage Saint who took him... but she still couldn’t make sense of it.

Suddenly, something deep within her heart tugged gently.

As she stared intently into Ethan’s eyes, a fleeting vision flashed before her—a vast, suffocating shadow of loneliness and an unimaginable burden resting on his young shoulders. For a split second, Ethan looked entirely different. In the faint vision crossing her eyes, he appeared mature, his body covered in battle scars, unusually tall, with an imposing atmosphere surrounding him like a legendary warrior rather than a child. Her heart ached deeply at the sight.

The vision vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Luna blinked, rubbing her eyes in confusion before staring at him again. Sensing her intense gaze, Ethan turned and met her eyes directly. Catching herself staring, Luna’s heart gave a sudden, violent thump. She quickly looked away toward the stone wall, a warm, crimson flush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

What is wrong with Luna? Ethan thought, watching her flushed face with mild concern. Don’t tell me she’s sick...?

What was that vision...? Luna thought, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the overwhelming emotion still echoing in her chest.