"Damien…!"
Hugo's voice rang out, strained with emotion, but Damien didn't flinch.
His eyes, calm and resolute, remained fixed on Damien.
"My well-being is not something that you need to worry about," Hugo coldly said, his tone quiet but firm—an undercurrent of steel beneath the words. "What's more important… is the future of the Valthorn Kingdom."
The last syllables fell like a stone in still water, sending subtle ripples through those gathered.
Hugo didn't speak further. He didn't need to. The implication behind his silence was crystal clear.
Everyone present felt it. That unspoken challenge. That brazen claim of worthiness.
Devrok's eyes narrowed. The temperature in the air seemed to drop a few degrees as he took a step forward, voice cold and sharp like a drawn blade.
"Hugo, you're going too far."
His tone, though calm, cut deep.
"Are you questioning the foresight of my royal father?"
The words carried weight. The gathered knights and soldiers behind Roan stiffened.
