The Uninvited Guest

Takashiro Ryuji walked back toward the crowd of heirs, his steps measured, deliberate. The death of his father, the head of the Takashiro family, had left a palpable void.

The heirs did not grieve; instead, they exchanged furtive glances, their faces pale and drawn, as if the very air had thickened with fear.

Whispers buzzed through the crowd like nervous insects. Some stepped back, distancing themselves from the young man who had committed the unthinkable.

The image had seared itself into their minds: this was no mere heir—this was a parricide.

"Ryuji...!" Marquis called out, disbelief lacing his voice, though it barely rose above a whisper.

Emotions churned within him—horror, anger, or something else he couldn't name. Marquis stood frozen, heart pounding.

The impossibility of what he'd just witnessed weighed heavily.

To kill one's own father, with such calm… such cold precision. Marquis's face went still. Ah—right. This was Ryuji, after all.

"I did what i thought was right for the future of my family," Ryuji interrupted, his tone flat, emotionless—as if his actions bore no consequence.

Marquis's anger surged, a hot fury threatening to consume him. "Killing isn't good, no matter who it is!" he shot, his voice rising with desperate fervor.

His fists clenched at his sides, his body trembling with emotion. He couldn't let this go—couldn't let Ryuji's actions slide without consequence.

"He was my father, not yours. And I don't think you, of all people, should be telling me that," Ryuji replied, his words slicing through the air with familiar weight.

Guilt washed over Marquis. He turned to the side and saw Sid squinting at Ryuji. Marquis lunged, seizing Ryuji by the collar, the fine fabric bunching in his fists.

"How…!" he began, his voice breaking, but the words died in his throat. What could he even say? What could possibly justify or explain what had happened?

Ryuji stared back, unblinking. "Is this a rematch? I don't accept the end of our last few fights." With a sudden shove, Ryuji threw Marquis off.

Marquis stumbled back, breath coming in ragged gasps. Ryuji turned and walked back to the spot he'd occupied before—calm, deliberate.

Wata approached cautiously. "Sir, was that really necessary?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

"It is," Ryuji replied, unyielding. "He was unfit. He was since he stopped waging wars. He was since he got corrupted by the beast," he muttered.

"He really did it... He killed his own father," Alaric murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Nasty boy, isn't he?"

Nneka flexed his arm on the table, their golden lion-embroidered tunic glittering. "They're all nasty. The Takashiros rose through conquest—like that blasted city of theirs."

Ashur glanced over. "Generalizing a whole city is ignorance budding."

A snark came from Colan. "I may not agree with Ashur on everything, but he's right. Without Takashiro manufacturing weapons, what would the guards' ranks even use?"

"So it's money," Luca muttered, tapping his fingers.

"It always is," Alaric concluded, voice slow and suffocating.

"Who do you think will take over as the new head?" someone asked from a distant table, breaking the stunned silence.

The figure in the chair exuded regality. A robe of deep indigo pooled around him, offset by a wide red sash. His long silver hair spilled over his shoulders, and a crest—a star encroached by glowing blue darkness—marked his chest.

"Are you serious right now, Bel-Ibni?" Alphonse asked, disbelief thick in his tone.

"I'm simply stating what most of us want to hear... but you're right. It's early," Bel-Ibni responded, then fell silent.

"Why did you do that?" Leonardo's voice trembled as he stood frozen, Ryuji brushing past him.

"Well, isn't he frightening?" the knight remarked, turning to Marquis. "Don't fight him,"

Adad laughed. "Ahahaha, Ryuji! You never fail to stir things up!" His deep red robe lifted, revealing muscular arms, dreads floating with unseen energy.

"You wish to fight?" Ryuji's voice was low, cold—anger simmering. The room held its breath. Adad's lips curved into a slow, predatory grin as his muscles tensed, ready for the inevitable clash.

"I sure do!" Adad's reply was laced with eager anticipation, his guide standing by helplessly, unable to intervene.

"Not this again," Alain muttered, considering leaving. A contrast to Itami, whose body screamed for battle.

"He killed Koroko," Itami whispered, struggling to restrain himself. His anger—or perhaps rage was a better term—was palpable. He didn't just want to fight; he wanted to kill Ryuji.

"Not you too… I'll just go over there," Alain said, gesturing away.

"Enough," a calm voice commanded, bringing everything to a halt. Adad stopped. Even Ryuji sighed, irritated.

"Who made the rule of non-involvement again?" Alphonse asked, frustrated.

"And what happens if we break it? Oh, right… compensation," Alaric muttered.

"Compensation..." Henri echoed, the word heavy. The concept of compensation was one of the many decrees set forth by the sage—rules that bound locations.

In the current hall, the heads of the families were bound by such rules, with penalties severe enough to deter even the most reckless.

Henri rose, movements slow and deliberate. The room tilted under the weight of what was to come.

The very atmosphere grew heavier as Henri approached Ryuji. Each step echoed ominously, bouncing off the walls.

Ryuji's eyes narrowed. He felt Henri's presence—oppressive, suffocating—but didn't flinch. His hand moved instinctively to his katana.

"He's done it now," Alphonse whispered. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made every muscle tense, every breath shallow.

"Go teach the boy a lesson, will you? I can't afford the compensation, or I surely would!" Sir Eadric said, almost gleefully.

"Shut up, will you?" Alaric snapped, patience waning.

"Oh, how dare—!" Eadric started, but fell silent.

"Dad?" Anna asked, surprised, as she watched her father approach the boy who had just committed parricide.

Henri was direct. "Attachment Skill: Graviton Shift," he intoned. The air rippled, gravity itself warping under his control. "I need to take care of something real quick, honey," Henri said to Anna, offering a small, reassuring smile.

The room twisted, rasvian energy bending. Ryuji's knees buckled, the weight immense. He tried to adjust, to stand—but the world had already warped.

"What are you doing?" Ryuji grunted, struggling as if the ground slipped beneath him.

"You need guidance. But before that, you need a beating," Henri said, grabbing him with shocking strength.

In one fluid motion, he slammed Ryuji into the floor. The impact was so forceful that the ground, made from a material said to be near indestructible, dented slightly.

The sound of the impact reverberated through the hall, a dull, echoing thud that made the other heirs flinch.

"Why did you kill your father?" Henri asked, calm—almost casual. Ryuji gasped, struggling to breathe under the crushing pressure.

"I—told you…" he tried, but Henri punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. The pain was sharp, searing, radiating through his body like a wildfire. He gasped for breath, his vision blurring as the world spun around him.

"Oh, he's gone..." Alain muttered, resigned. Adad, who had been so eager for a fight, took a step back, sweat beading on his forehead as he witnessed Henri's demonstration of strength.

"Are the heads really that powerful?" Leonardo asked, stunned.

"Not exactly... Dad's one of the few," Anna replied with a small, proud smile.

"Lightning," Elara whispered, watching Adad. She saw fear in his eyes.

"How foolish can you be? Stop using your attachment skill!" Marquis shouted, frustration boiling. "How idiotic is everyone here?" he muttered.

"He might be as strong as Father," Adad whispered, a smile flickering.

He looked at the table of heads. The first face he saw was his father's.

Ashur, staring back at him with a look of intensity. There was no anger, no disappointment, just a calm, measured gaze that seemed to cut through the chaos around them.

"Oh..." Adad muttered, confidence wavering. "I give up—" he began, but Henri moved with blinding speed. His fist collided with Adad's gut. Gravity itself seemed to warp. The lightning around Adad flickered and died.

"You didn't really think you could beat me?" Henri said, voice calm as Adad's body floated, suspended by gravitational force. "If I'd known I was going to rumble, I would've worn armor," he added with dry amusement.

Ashur, seated opposite Sir Eadric, huffed in agreement. No words were needed.

"Compensation for the head of the de Meaux family, Henri de Meaux, shall commence shortly," the sage announced. "I shall continue the rules in due time," he added, leaving the hall in uneasy silence.

"Is your dad going to be okay?" Leonardo asked Elara, while Anna remained entranced by her father.

"Definitely!" Elara replied cheerily.

Leonardo stared.

"Dad's not only strong but smart too," she added. Her voice faded as Leonardo turned to Henri. Was she happy... just to see her father? A parental figure. Something he didn't have.

"Henri's family, de Meaux—excluding the heirs—shall receive prohibition of any items from any district."

"Ouch!" Alaric laughed.