Midnight.
In the depths of the imperial capital's high-security dungeon, silence ruled—thick and suffocating. Torches flickered along the cold stone walls, casting long shadows.
A heavy iron door creaked open.
Boots echoed against the floor.
Duke Lucas Kustoria stepped in, flanked by two royal knights. He wore no armor—only a black coat bearing the crest of House Kustoria. But the weight of his presence was heavier than any steel.
Three spies knelt in chains, bruised and bloodied. The air turned to ice.
Lucas didn't speak at first. He just looked at them—no rage, no yelling—just an unreadable calm that pressed like a blade against the throat.
Then he stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately.
"Which of you was the leader?"
The oldest of the three—a grizzled man with a broken nose—raised his head defiantly. "We don't talk to dog of the empire."
Lucas stared at him. No reaction. Just silence.
Then, with no warning, he struck—one sharp blow to the man's face. Not enough to kill. Just enough to silence arrogance.
He leaned in close.
"You kidnapped my son."
He spoke low, calm—but there was a storm buried in his voice, barely restrained.
"You tied him. Starved him. Beat him. You covered his mouth to keep him from screaming, didn't you?" His tone sharpened with each word. "But he didn't scream. He watched. He listened. You know why?Because he knew I would come."
The leader spat blood. "He's just a boy. A pawn. And your empire—your whole cursed empire—will all fall."
Lucas's expression didn't change.
"Then it's a shame you won't live long enough to see it."
He turned to the youngest of the three—the traitor boy, the spy who had lived among the empire, pretended to be Aidan's friend.
"Tell me something," Lucas said, voice quieter now. "Did he ever doubt you?"
The boy lowered his gaze. Shame washed over him.
Lucas leaned closer, his breath like frost. "He didn't, did he?"
The boy didn't answer. But his trembling hands told the truth.
Lucas stood tall again.
"Who gave the order?" he asked, voice like thunder rolling across a battlefield. "Which noble in Drosmere sent you?"
The men stayed silent.
Lucas nodded to one of his knights.
The knight drew a long, narrow blade from his sheath.
"You're spies. Not soldiers. You hold no protection under any treaty. You are not prisoners of war. You are criminals. "
He turned to the traitor boy again.
"You have one chance. Give me a name, and I'll see to it you die quickly—and buried far from Drosmere's filth."
Lucas walks slowly, his gaze fixed on the traitorous boy—the spy who once called himself Aidan's friend.
The boy trembled under that gaze, eyes wide with fear. Bloodied, exhausted, but desperate.
"S-Spare me, please… I helped your son escape," he pleaded, voice cracking. "I was the one who got him out—if it weren't for me, he'd be dead!"
But Lucas remained unmoved. His silence was colder than any blade.
Yes, the boy helped Aidan escape—but only after luring him into captivity. After pretending to be his friend. After feeding him lies and leading him straight into their trap.
He was the reason Aidan was taken in the first place.
Lucas raised his hand.
A simple motion.
A signal for death.
The other knights stepped back. They'd seen this before—the moment before .Lucas Kustoria unleashed his wrath.
But just as his aura began to flicker like fire in a storm—
The heavy dungeon doors burst open.
"Stop."
A commanding voice echoed through the chamber.
Val, the Royal Knight Commander, entered, his cloak trailing behind him. His armor gleamed with authority, and on his shoulder: the unmistakable seal of the Emperor.
Lucas turned, his expression sharp and lethal.
But Val didn't flinch. He stepped closer, eyes locked on Lucas.
"The Emperor commands it."
"These three will not die—not yet. They'll serve a purpose."
Lucas's voice dropped, low and cold. "And if I kill them anyway?"
Val didn't blink. "Then you'll never reach the one who gave the order. These three are pawns. But the hand that moved them is still hidden. If you want justice—not just vengeance—you'll wait."
A long silence followed.
The flames in Lucas's eyes dimmed, but only slightly. His clenched fists loosened.
"Fine," he said, voice tight with fury barely held in check.
"But hear me, Val. Every soul involved in this—every noble, every spy, every shadow hiding behind Drosmere's banners—will die by my hands."
Val gave a nod, firm and calm. "As you wish."
Lucas turned, his cloak swirling as he walked away from the three bound spies.
The boy watched him go, breath trembling. For now, death had passed him by.
But the Duke of Kustoria had made his promise.
And when Lucas made a promise… not even gods could stand in his way.