Reynard watched Clifton silently as he approached, loosening the muscles around his neck by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You kept your promise and came alone.”

“And as expected, you didn’t,” Clifton replied, his tone mocking as if showing respect to a prince of the Empire was no longer necessary.

“You should have at least one witness to attest to how our honor is preserved, don’t you think?” Clifton sneered, a smirk curling his lips. 

The fact that his witness was one of his own people only made it more absurd. Reynard wasn’t amused.

“If you intended to bring a second, you should have informed me like a gentleman,” Reynard said, implying that he should have had a fair chance to select a second for the duel as well.

“Oh, your so-called 'gentleman’s honor'—I wonder if that will truly shine when your witness presents his testimony before the courts and the noble assembly,” Reynard retorted, pointing out the 3rd Prince’s clear lack of integrity.

In traditional duels, it was customary for each duelist to have two or three witnesses who would also act as mediators before and after the duel. Reynard was openly criticizing Clifton’s treachery.

“Do we really need mediation at this point?” Clifton’s response showed his complete disregard for any true honor or shame. He was shameless, a man at the end of his rope, whose honor had long since been abandoned. His words hinted that this duel would result in absolute ruin for one of them, without mediation or mercy.

No mediators. This duel would end in defeat or death for one of them. Reynard had always known Clifton’s true objective: the death of Marquis Valcarez, the one who stood in the way of his ambition. That was the very reason Reynard was here.

The two alphas stared at each other amidst the dry trees and shrubs of winter.

“You look terrible. Is it true what they say, that you’ve lost your mind since your partner left?” Clifton remarked, his eyes scanning Reynard’s gaunt face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the bloodshot whites.

It seemed like light banter, but there was nothing casual about it. The air between them was filled with the tension of two beasts sizing each other up before a lethal attack.

“Enough small talk. Let’s begin,” Reynard scoffed. Clifton’s own face wasn’t much better—he, too, was showing the signs of drug addiction. Yet he seemed completely oblivious to his own deteriorating condition.

The only thing in Clifton’s eyes was a burning desire to kill Reynard. His face may have still worn the mask of a serene imperial prince, but his eyes revealed the soul of a vile murderer.

Clifton’s aide pulled out a white handkerchief from his breast pocket.

As per tradition, the duel would begin the moment the handkerchief hit the ground, and bullets would fly the instant it fell.

Yet, the aide hesitated, dragging out the moment as if waiting for something. Slowly, he raised the handkerchief into the air.

The sound of guns being cocked, however, didn’t come from the duelists. It came from elsewhere.

*Click! Clack!*

From the bushes, Clifton’s private soldiers began to emerge, their rifles pointed at Reynard. There were at least thirty of them, and Reynard let out a twisted smile.

“So, it’s an execution, not a duel?” Reynard mocked.

“I’ll make sure the official records say it was a most honorable duel,” Clifton replied, his nose high in the air as if he were granting Reynard a favor, even as he ordered his soldiers to fire.

Reynard burst into laughter, bending over at the waist. Then, standing straight, he planted both feet firmly on the ground.

A cold winter wind swept between them, making the tails of Reynard’s military coat flutter.

Clifton, with his soldiers' guns still trained on Reynard, took slow steps forward.

“Honestly, I never thought you would interfere with me to this extent, even if your partner sided with my sister.”

“I was the one who first supported the 1st Princess,” Reynard replied.

Clifton’s attempt to target only the weak, disregarding the true order of events, was pathetically base.

“Right, that was foolish of you. Why would you do that? I always wanted us to be allies, Reynard. Before your marriage, you weren’t aligned with any political faction.”

“I wasn’t interested. And I never intended to support you.”

“That’s unfortunate. I thought we could have been good business partners from the start,” Clifton said, shrugging his shoulders as if it were a small matter.

“Think about it. Two strong alpha males ruling this Empire. I would become the Emperor, and you, the rightful lord of Dales. A noble master and servant relationship, passed down from the founding of the nation. Wouldn’t that have been a beautiful picture?” Clifton smiled, looking genuinely regretful.

“You threw that wonderful opportunity away. You supported my sister, and your partner solidified that choice.”

“It was your actions that gave me cause,” Reynard replied coldly.

“My actions?” Clifton raised an eyebrow.

“You tried to swallow up the Count’s family, used Valentin as a pawn, and your wife attacked Valentin even before the marriage. After doing all that, did you really think I could side with you?”

Clifton laughed, bending at the waist this time.

“As the future ruler of the Empire, everything belongs to me, does it not? It’s laughable that you’ve been nursing such petty grievances. You’ve let your omega partner’s whims weaken you, Reynard. You’re no better than an ordinary man.”

Clifton’s words reeked of arrogance, a belief that no alpha male should concern himself with such trivial matters. His superiority complex was staggering.

“And Valentin? Not that omega—he was a foolish brat. Arrogant and insufferable as a child, though, I must admit, his looks made up for it. By the time he grew up, he was seducing half the social circle. Too bad. If he had behaved, I might have kept him as a concubine. Such a pity.”

At these insulting words, Reynard’s face, previously expressionless, cracked with fury. Clifton had crossed the line. To insult Reynard’s partner so openly in front of soldiers—it was the behavior of a common thug, not a prince. Clifton truly saw Reynard as a dead man.

Reynard dropped his gaze to the ground.

Clifton smiled, pleased. Finally, the proud Marquis of Dales was bowing his head. Here, at the very end, with his life on the line. Clifton’s laugh was filled with satisfaction.

“So, the great naval hero of Dales, the Empire’s war hero, is really nothing special after all, right?”

“...”

“You’re powerless away from the sea, aren’t you?”

“...”

“You’ve lost your partner, your child, and now your mind. You’ve even come to your own grave.”

The white handkerchief in Clifton’s aide’s hand trembled. The wind, too, seemed to shiver ominously.

“So, now you die,” Clifton declared, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction.

The fallen war hero’s downcast gaze fed Clifton’s twisted pride.

“Prince, do you know something?” Reynard’s voice cut through the air, startling Clifton.

“...What?”

“This place won’t be my grave. It will be yours.”

Reynard lifted his head and locked eyes with Clifton.

“Talking nonsense right before you die, are we?”

Clifton raised his hand, ready to give the command to fire.

“Any last words? I’ll grant you the honor of a final statement out of familial affection.”

“I don’t need a will.”

At that moment, the ground beneath them trembled.

“But I will give you a prophecy: You will pay for your sins in full.”

“What...?”

Before Clifton could fully comprehend Reynard’s words, a deafening sound erupted from the earth.

It wasn’t thunder—it came from the ground itself. The solid rock and soil beneath them cracked and tore apart with the sound of an earthquake. The ground began to shake more violently, sending Clifton and his soldiers into a panic. Earthquakes were rare in the Empire.

“What is this…?!”

Clifton’s eyes wavered, as did the earth itself. Then, all of a sudden—

*Splash!*

A geyser of water shot up from the cracks in the ground.

It wasn’t a natural disaster. Clifton realized this wasn’t an ordinary earthquake.

“I thought there needed to be no water...! What are you doing?! Fire! Shoot him now!”

His soldiers, struggling to maintain their footing, pulled the triggers of their rifles, firing at Reynard through the rising water.

*Bang! Bang!*

Flashes of red and yellow flames burst from the muzzles as bullets flew toward Reynard.