SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 446: Chapter 446: Decision [V]

Lucien stepped into the corridor with calm confidence.

The elf who had summoned him walked ahead, guiding the way through the stone halls. Two guards followed several steps behind, escorting him as protocol required. The corridors were unusually quiet. The war had ended only recently and the castle had not yet returned to its usual rhythm. Fewer soldiers moved through the halls, fewer messengers rushed between rooms. The noise had simply disappeared.

Lucien did not mind the silence.

If anything, it made the moment feel more significant.

His father was dead. The former head of House Thal’zar had fallen during the war, leaving the entire family structure unstable. Many of his siblings had reacted with fear when the news spread. Some had locked themselves away in their chambers, uncertain of what would come next. Others whispered constantly about what the Morgain and Sylvanel families might decide to do with them.

Lucien did not share those fears.

His father’s death had created something far more valuable. Opportunity. He was certain the meeting ahead would confirm it. Valttair du Morgain and Elenara au Sylvanel were waiting for him, and the future head of House Thal’zar had to be chosen. This meeting was likely a formality before the announcement. Power rarely appeared twice in a lifetime, and Lucien intended to take it.

Ahead of him, the elf continued walking in silence.

Beneath his cloak, his fingers rested near the dagger he had concealed earlier. The blade remained unseen, but his grip tightened slightly with every step. The potion running through his body had stripped away the discipline he normally carried, leaving only what had always been underneath it.

One image.

A sanctuary in flames. Collapsed stone. The still body of his sister among the dead.

The memory repeated without mercy, and with each step forward the hatred inside him grew heavier, darker, harder to contain.

Behind him, Lucien walked only a few meters away, completely unaware.

The corridor ended at a pair of heavy doors reinforced with dark iron bands. Two guards stood on either side and straightened the moment they recognized the Sylvanel insignia on the elf’s cloak.

”The chamber is ready,” one of them said quietly.

The elf gave a short nod. The doors opened.

Inside, the room was wide and dimly lit by tall torches fixed into the stone walls. At the far end stood a long table of dark wood, and behind it sat two figures whose presence alone carried the weight of the entire castle.

Valttair du Morgain. Elenara au Sylvanel.

Neither of them moved when Lucien entered.

Lucien stepped forward with the same confidence he had carried through the corridor, eyes passing briefly over the two figures waiting for him. He was already imagining the conversation that would follow. Recognition. Responsibility. Authority. The shape of everything he had been moving toward since his father fell.

Behind him, the elf remained standing in the doorway.

Lucien slowed and glanced back with faint irritation. ”Move.” No courtesy.

In his mind the man behind him was a soldier doing his duty, nothing more.

The elf stepped aside.

Lucien walked past him.

And turned his back.

The moment lasted less than a heartbeat.

Steel caught the torchlight for a fraction of a second before the blade drove across Lucien’s throat in a single brutal motion. The kind of movement that left no room for hesitation or reversal.

Lucien’s body froze before his mind understood what had happened. His hand rose instinctively toward his neck as heat poured between his fingers. A wet, choking sound escaped his throat. He tried to breathe and found nothing there to breathe with.

The guards behind him shouted, but the sound reached him strangely, as if it were coming from another room entirely.

He staggered forward two steps. Blood spread across the stone floor beneath him. His legs gave way and he went down hard, one hand still pressed against his throat, the other braced against nothing.

Within seconds, the heir of House Thal’zar lay on the ground, choking on his own blood as the life left his body one ragged breath at a time.

And then he stopped moving.

For a moment, no one moved.

Lucien’s body lay twisted across the stone floor, blood spreading slowly beneath him in a dark, widening stain. The violence still hung in the air like a sound that had not yet finished echoing, and the people in the room had not yet fully caught up to what they had just witnessed.

At the far end of the chamber, Valttair du Morgain remained seated.

He had watched the entire thing unfold without rising from his chair. His expression had not shifted much — the same composed stillness in his posture, hands resting calmly on the armrests. But a faint irritation had settled behind his eyes as he looked down at the body of the man who, only seconds ago, had been walking toward him as the future head of House Thal’zar.

Lucien gave one last weak movement and went still.

Valttair shifted his gaze. Not toward the corpse. Toward Elenara.

”I wasn’t aware your soldiers failed their duties, Elenara.” His voice was calm.

The two escort guards reacted at last, lunging forward and seizing the elf before he could move again. One wrenched his arm behind his back while the other forced him to his knees. The dagger clattered across the stone floor.

The elf did not resist.

Instead, he began to laugh.

It started quietly, almost like a breath escaping his chest, before rising into something harsher and more broken. His eyes were wide as if he were relieved.

”This is for my sister!” The words tore out of his throat.

Elenara’s expression hardened instantly.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Mana gathered beneath the stone floor and a sharp crack split the silence as a thick root burst upward through the ground, twisting violently as it shot forward. It pierced straight through the elf’s chest. His laughter cut off. His body hung there for a brief second, impaled through the torso, before the life drained from his eyes completely.

Elenara exhaled sharply. ”Fuck.”

Valttair let out a quiet breath through his nose, glancing once more at Lucien’s body lying nearby. A faint click of his tongue followed.

”Tch.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair. ”It seems I must send one of my own. Leave it to me.”

Valttair’s gaze remained on the blood spreading across the stone for another moment before he spoke. ”Caelum.”

For a brief second nothing happened. Then the air near the wall shifted, and a figure stepped forward from the shadow as if he had been standing there the entire time.

Caelum appeared in his usual human form, pale grey hair neatly arranged, yellow eyes calm and unreadable. His black attire carried the quiet elegance expected from the right hand of the Morgain patriarch. He bowed his head slightly.

”My Lord.”

Valttair did not look back at Lucien’s corpse. ”Bring Darian and Maris.”

Caelum inclined his head once more. ”As you command.”

His presence thinned almost immediately, the faint distortion in the air vanishing as he disappeared from the chamber.

Several corridors away, the door to Trafalgar’s room opened quietly. Caelum stepped inside. Darian looked up first. Aubrelle remained seated beside Trafalgar, her fingers still idly resting in his hair. Trafalgar himself did not move much, though his eyes opened slowly as Caelum entered.

Caelum’s gaze settled on Darian.

”Darian du Thal’zar. Patriarch Valttair du Morgain and Matriarch Elenara au Sylvanel wish to see you.”

The room went still.

Darian understood immediately. Lucien was dead. The knowledge settled in his chest with a weight that did not need confirmation. His brother had been walking toward that same meeting only minutes earlier. Now he was not.

His eyes shifted toward Trafalgar.

The man who had ordered it.

Trafalgar met his gaze without expression, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.

Darian swallowed once. ”I will not disappoint you.”

Trafalgar gave the faintest nod. ”I’m counting on you, partner.”

Caelum turned toward the door. Darian followed.

Elsewhere in the castle, another presence wearing Caelum’s face was already approaching Maris, delivering the same summons in the same measured tone.

Minutes later, the two heirs stood inside the same chamber where Lucien’s body had recently been removed. The stone floor had been cleaned quickly, but the room still carried the faint trace of what had happened there. Valttair remained seated. Elenara stood beside the table, arms crossed, her expression still carrying traces of irritation she had not quite set aside.

Valttair looked at them both in silence before speaking.

”There will be a new heir of House Thal’zar.” His voice carried no ceremony. ”The sins of your father have been paid. The children should not carry them. House Thal’zar will remain.” He leaned back slightly. ”We cannot destabilize the world by erasing one of the Eight.”

Maris spoke first. ”Why us?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. ”Why not the eldest brother?”

A faint trace of disdain crossed Valttair’s expression. ”Do you truly believe your father would entrust the house to that fool?”

Silence followed.

Darian stepped forward slightly. ”If House Thal’zar is meant to survive this,” he said, voice steady, ”then choose the one who understands the position we now stand in.” He did not raise his tone. ”I won’t pretend things are the same as before. But what remains of our house still has value.” His gaze moved between Valttair and Elenara. ”If given the chance, I will rebuild it in a way that ensures stability. For everyone involved.”

Valttair watched him carefully.

Across the room, Elenara’s eyes narrowed slightly as she considered him in silence.

Neither of them spoke immediately.

The decision had not yet been announced.